Like virtually every other shirt or dress I've ever owned, it wants to slide off my shoulders. I'd blame my utter lack of sewing skills, but they've picked up more than their share of blame for this project. My shoulders just point down and entropy, like gravity, goes along for the ride.

I finished all principal sewing on my Halloween costume tonight. In fact, I am wearing it, breathless and giggling, as I write these words; I am giving my body a few minutes to relearn how to sit properly in a dress of this type.Scratch 'relearn.' I've never worn anything remotely like this.

(whap) "Tenzing, get OFF the fabric!"
MEOW! (indignant)
(sound of cat being tossed across the room)
(sound of cat jumping onto fabric)
"Edmund!"
(sound of cat being tossed across the room)
(sound of cat jumping onto fabric)
"TENZING!"
(sound of cat being tossed across the room)
(sound of spouse laughing) "Got help, hmm?"

...and so it goes, and so it goes.

"Nope. Forty-five inches." He shrugged, folded the fabric neatly back onto the bolt, and handed it to me. Ok, I thought. So my dress won't be emerald green. I took the bolt from him and wandered back to the 'luxury fabrics' section of the store with a sinking feeling. I compared the width to the red and blue velvets I liked. They, too, were 45" widths. I grumbled (audibly) and mentally scratched options 2 and 3 off the list.

It is a braless, serene Sunday, with all the men in my life dozing in different corners of the house. Tenzing has found a comfortable, shady spot in the reading room; Jeff is belly-down, snores-up in the master bedroom; and Edmund, having despaired of actually being helpful to me, has bathed himself to sleep on top of the guest bed, cheerfully dousing the dark green comforter with loose bits of off-white belly fur.

Edmund may not have been the brightest kitty in his litter, but he knows, with the intrinsic absolutism of feline knowledge, that my setting up the ironing board and scattering sewing implements on the bed means that I will, without a doubt, return.All he has to do is lie on top of the fabric and wait.

As soon as the dryer finishes drying the rest of the fabric I bought, I'll begin.

What, you don't believe the entry title? Silly you. I can't imagine why, what with my propensity for choosing arcane and random titles for my entries over the past three years. Nevertheless, let me reassure you; indeed, I speak truth, for tonight I created the technicolor feline pajamas of doom.

Well, okay, actually they're just technicolor feline flannel pajamas. Adam added the "(of doom)."

It really wasn't planned. Honest. Except that I'd been dozing on the couch, and then I snapped awake with the horrid realization that I was planning on three weeks' worth of out-of-state trips in the not-too-distant future, and that one pair of sneakers, one pair of jeans, and two pair of shorts just weren't going to cut it.

Clothing. Needed. Now.

Somewhere in a snoozy doze I thought, hmm, maybe I should wander down to Hancock's and shop for fabric. A couple of simple skirts to go with my sweaters would make packing for long trips much, much easier. That is, I thought, if I could find anything I liked.