Flunking Tests and Making a Dress
Posted by thedarwinexception on February 18, 2008
Yeah, I know, you all want to hear how the stress test went. Well, I flunked. So there. That’s how it went. I think that’s the first test I ever flunked in my life.
But, to be fair, they didn’t give me a chance to finish. They stopped the test early. So really, they *made* me flunk it. There was one guy monitoring my blood pressure and one who was running the heart monitor, and the guy taking my blood pressure read the last reading, got up, went to the heart machine, typed some numbers in, and the other guy said “OK – I’m stopping the belt now”. I looked at him and said “That’s it?” And he said “For you it is.” I thought that was rather ominous.
It took more time to get all those sticky things on and off me than the actual time spent “walking the treadmill”. I only go to the first “OK – the belt is going to incline slightly and go slightly faster” before they stopped the test.And I wasn’t even feeling “stressed”. There was no crash cart in the room, I knew the guy taking my blood pressure readings – he was the one who did my blood pressure in the ER, I didn’t have to have an IV, and Leslie the Chamber of Commerce lady had brought me and was with me – so I felt really good and not stressed at all. I didn’t get stressed until he said “For you it is.”
But, I guess I flunked.
It’s a damned good thing Leslie the Chamber of Commerce Lady and I went to McDonald’s afterwards, because otherwise I would be *really* pissed that I had to get fucking dressed and go out for nothing.
So, I called my real doctor and told him I flunked the test. And he laughed. He said “No, you didn’t flunk, it’s just that your blood pressure was getting too high to continue.” But really, folks, isn’t that flunking? The doctor is getting the results from the hospital – he said we would go over them when I came to see him this week.
In other, more exciting news, I am entering the Joann’s nationwide sewing contest. You have to make a prom dress. I’m making one for Ray and Lynn’s kid, Karissa. Remember Ray and Lynn? They ar ethe ones who have the annual New Year’s Eve Party. Karissa is their youngest daughter. Their other daughter was my favorite teen kid around here – Katie. Until she got knocked up. Now, not so much.
But Karissa came over and picked out the pattern she wants and we talked about embellishments and changes to the pattern and color. We are starting with this pattern:
And we have a few changes we want to make to it, and a few embellishments. See that band around the top? We are going to use the Gemmagic and put rhinestones all along that. Good thinking, huh? Seeing how the judging is going to be based on workmanship, originality and DETAIL, I want to put a lot of detail into it. And she wants a baby blue fabric. I’m thinking either silk or charmeuse. Just because charmeuse drapes so nicely and has a light sheen to it. (And where’s Rami when you need him, huh? Because that fucker can drape!)
Oh, and here’s a picture of Karissa – this is her graduation picture. I think it will be nice to work with her on her prom dress – and she has a real body – she’s not one of those stick skinny teens that won’t look good in anything you make for them. I don’t expect to win any prizes in the contest (let’s be real, it’s not like it’s an “Upstate New York” contest – or even a Malone contest – it’s a Nationwide contest.) But since I would have made her prom dress for her anyway, and since I would have bought all the shit for it at Joann’s anyway (do I have a choice?) we might as well take a couple of pictures of her in the dress and send them off with the Joann’s receipts.
You’ll never guess what I got in the mail this weekend. Picture a box – no, bigger than that. Picture a BIG box – really, really big, and really, really heavy. That’s what was sitting on my porch when Paul went to take the dog’s out. He had to struggle to lift it and get it up the stairs. And all the while he was struggling I was swearing up and down I didn’t order anything. (well, not anything *that* big.)
So once Paul drags the box upstairs, I open it. It’s FULL of fabric. Hundreds of yards of flannels, stretch knits, solids, novelty prints. Un fucking real. Given to me by an anonymous donor. I haven’t teared up like that since my kids were born. It was like I was looking at the Holy Fucking Grail. It was a religious experience. And now I need the Pope to come and build me another shelving unit. Or Lisa the Domestic Diva needs to pay a visit and get me fucking organized. I have way too much fabric and way too much yarn to store. Way too much. And Joann’s keep having sales. The bastards.