I've been shamefully lazy about NaBloWriMo. I think I've missed three days. Pathetic. Last year I managed to post each day despite, you know, giving birth to twins via major abdominal surgery (okay, so I scheduled posts ahead of time--sue me).
I enjoy seeing small children in somber clothing. Dignified, serious clothing makes their foot-eating, food-wearing antics even better.
This dress nearly wound up in the scrap bin due to a buttonhole mishap. While opening up the buttonhole with a seam ripper, my hand slipped and tore a giant hole in the placket. I managed to patch it; you can see the repair job on the top button hole here, but I've decided it's good enough. I didn't cry, curse, throw crockery or yell at my kids. I feel so mature.
This is not my first buttonhole disaster. Either the automatic buttonhole setting on my machine is at fault or this is just one of those things (like pie crust) that I'm just going to routinely screw up despite having decent theoretical knowledge of what needs to be done.
Other than that, I'm pleased with the dress. I made it out of an old skirt I had sewn years ago, before the mysteries of fabric grain had been revealed to me. Perhaps it's the fact that the fabric was essentially free that I was so patient with my buttonhole issue. Hmmmm.