I made it work, Tim G.

I crafted! I'm crafty!

Obvs, I still need to hem the bottom. But that could take another month.

The dress looks better if you squint. Also, whatever you do, do not turn the dress inside out. It's total chaos. My guess is that Ivy will wear the dress for one minute before the  haphazard seams start to drive her bananas and we have a total infant meltdown on our hands. Don't worry, I'll take 45 pictures in those 60 seconds. #the camera is my crack cocaine.
This beast was my second project of the week. The first was cutting my own bangs. They, too, look better if you squint.
I think next time I'll purchase an actual textile pattern instead of just wingin' it from some super vague instructions off the World Wide Web.

Speaking of internets, is it just me, or are the blogger captchas getting out of control? Like, 27 characters out of control. Sometimes I'll go to leave a comment but the captcha is so crazy that all I can do is give up and walk away. It's not like those letters and numbers are easy to read. Is it an "L", or a "1"? Sometimes I fail the captchas, which makes me wonder if I'm really a spam robot and no one ever told me. #time for my lunch of scrap metal and brains. #just kidding. #OR AM I? #om nom nom.

carrying this torch

I've been sitting here for an hour. I've erased five different first sentences. It's hard to know what to write. I would tell you all about Christmas, but I think we're all a little tired of the festivities by now, aren't we? I would recap the year, but that would just mean rehashing the details of baby-growing. I would write a list of resolutions, but I sort of hate resolutions. I rarely remember them past January 5, and if I do remember they only make me feel guilty for my lack of proactivenesstivity. It's a word, deal with it.  I would describe how it feels to be so close to having a baby, but that feeling morphs from sheer joy to utter panic every thirty seconds, and I don't want to give you reader whip-lash. So I guess I'll tell you about sewing. I sew now. I'm a sewer. Six days ago I became the elated owner of a limited edition Project Runway Brother sewing machine. The first page of the machine's manual declares in bold, capslock THIS IS NOT A TOY. But if you ask me, it really depends on your definition of toy. For what is a toy if not a gateway to dreams? A mechanism for unlocking possibilities, for letting imagination rule, for shape one's ambitions? Just as Go Go the Walking Pup taught me to be a responsible dog owner and Legos unleashed my inner architect, so does my sewing machine make all those pinterest projects possible realities and not mere pipe dreams. Who knows? Maybe I, Meg Morley Walter will some day be the next Project Runway winner. I've already (almost) completed a baby quilt, all the while hearing Tim Gunn's voice in my head, making it work.