Randomness

Sweet Daughter asked “What’s ‘unconscious’ mean?” (We were watching The Incredibles. If you haven’t seen it, remedy the situation tout de suite.) I gave her my version, and Shorter Half gave his. I liked her four-year-old summary better.

“So, it's like being killed, but not to death.”


In other non-news, here' are a couple of a pictures to go with this post.

How it started.

I’m not a gun crank. I don’t have to be; I’m married to one. However, when Sweet Daughter had a special request for her fourth birthday, I ventured over to Jay G’s blog to see if he, as another gun crank and a dad, had another perspective to add. I’d been lurking for a while and he and his legions of followers seemed really newbie-friendly. Not only did I get some wonderful advice, I got amazing positive feedback. I’m still gobsmacked.

Go here to see where it all began, and here for the follow-up.

The Cast of Characters

Well, there’s me, Nancy. Middle-aged mother to 4 year-old Sweet Daughter, and married to my Shorter Half. (Yes, I'm 6' tall, Rick's not.) I work full time due to necessity as I happen to like living in a house with heat and having food on the table. Hobbies include 18th century living history and the detritus that goes with it, and things that go boom.

Shorter Half, a.k.a. Rick R. Gun/Military/History Geek with ADD. I have never, not once, asked him a question in any of these areas that he couldn’t answer. Once or twice he’s felt the need to fact check an answer, but the Geek button is always on. Always. Oh, and he likes bacon. A lot. This is the man, who while we were in line at a Wendy's, mused out loud as he gazed at the menu, "I don't know if I want chicken or if I want meat." I replied, "Honey, in some cultures chicken IS meat."


Sweet daughter, Susan. Brilliant, kind, silly sense of humor and an absolute joy. Mother’s are supposed to be biased. Get over it.

Projects

I’ve got a big box of projects sitting next to my chair. The deal is that if I’m going to be sitting in front of the TV, I have to be doing something useful. Last year, in the space of about 9 months, I accomplished a lot. Since July … not so much. Those 9 months yielded 8 pairs of 18th century knit mittens, a wool bedgown, a black silk bonnet, a cambric shirt, two gowns for Sweet Daughter, a matalesse petticoat, aprons, assorted bags and hemmed linens, refitting the bodice on two of my gowns, a new chintz round gown, a linen waistcoat drafting patterns, assembling garments for others to finish, and a pair of stays (sans binding), among other things. Since then, I’ve been trying to get motivated. Somebody kidnapped my sewing muse and I want her back. With my luck, Ms. Muse has Stockholm Syndrome and I’ll never see her again.

So it begins.

I've had three people tell me I should start a blog -- not that that's an overwhelming large sample of my acquaintance from which to draw. One was a family member that I don't have as much contact with as I'd like, one is a close friend that I don't see often enough, and one couldn't pick me out of a police line-up. He did use a letter of mine in his blog though, and that's when I starting to consider sipping the Kool-Aid.