Rev up the Machine...

Remember that post from a few years ago concerning a search for some sort of artistic talent? Well, I think I'm settling on fabric. It's rather by default, really. I've always been a sucker for fabric and handmade papers and pretty patterns. I could spend an hour just rubbing silk velvet against my cheek. There's just something so... sensual about fabric!

The kinda funny part is that, while bemoaning lack of "artsy-fartsy genes" (a shout-out here to Patti P. for that phrase), I was spending every weekend getting my sewing room together, making quilts and working on costumes. Forest? What forest? All I see are trees!

Yesterday, while trolling the 'net on my lunch break, I ran across a great site, A Dress a Day. Talk about smacks to the forehead! I'm NOWHERE near as talented as she is (her name's Erin, too, which i find strangely neat) but thought that, if I'm actually going to use this blog (a concept, i know), then it would be a good place to share my successes and failures (i have feeling the failures will be much more amusing than the successes) as I learn how to tame my sewing machine's feet. Perhaps I'll even learn how to keep the cats off of my fabric when I'm in the middle of feeding it under the needle, too!

Please be patient about pics, though. I'm still looking for a color scanner that I can afford, but will probably start going scan-happy after that. (i really wish i could show you the nifty flocked organza i got for a new skirt... sooooooo pretty) That said, I CAN share a pic of my newest family member. She came with the name Spice, but I'm thinking "Mouth" or "CB" (for ChatterBox) may be more appropriate. :)

Ooooooo.... I can't wait to get this started!!!

Never Half-Way

After some time away, it's a relief to be able to come back to the blog. Granted, my personal luddite journal has seen more entries than ever before, but...

The past few weeks have been - interesting. I recently spent over a week at Harrisburg Hospital due to a bout of diverticulitis. I've never been admitted to the hospital before, though I have made visits to the ER for broken bones, accidents, etc. I've always been more of the patch-me-up-give-me-drugs-and-send-me-home type of person. Hospital stays were wedded in my mind with surgery, elderly people and births. While diverticulitis is waaaaay more common in the more elderly population, it is not unheard of for younger people to have issues - especially if you are obese.

First, I would just like to give a big kiss to Janos Kabay. He's the Hungarian (yah, hungarians!) chemist who figured out how to extract C17H19NO3 from poppy straw. In other words, he helped to bring morphine to the masses. I'd never had morphine before. The first couple of shots through the IV took the pain and set it aside. I still knew it was there, but I didn't really get too upset about it. Then, once it was determined that I would be admitted, a nurse came to me in the angelic glow of the ER fluorescent. Her face was kind, her brow slightly furrowed in sympathy as she saw me writhe with pain on the gurney. Her blue scrubs assumed the serene phosphorescence of the Virgin Mary's robes as she murmured, "Since we can monitor you, I can give you a full dose now." Her syringe probed the port inserted into my right arm, the plunger poised. "This is 10mg. I could only give you 5 before." The drug whooshed into my vein, spreading across my body in a warm flood of sensation. I believe I moaned "whoooaaa..." as that wave turned my head to the left.

After that, things were a little fuzzy for a while.

I ended up staying for about eight days. Six of those days I spent tethered to an IV pole. Four of those six days, I held a little stick topped with a button in my hand. Every eight minutes (i timed it), I could press the tiny button. My reward was a soft "beep" and a smooth lilt of perception as the 1mg dose of morphine made its way through my body. I was sad when they took the pump away.

...to be continued.