Rambling:

Remember where I claimed not to believe in writer's block? I'm not-having it again. I can write. I wrote a couple of paragraphs about sewing patterns. And cloche hats. And the nice camp shirt that I saw on someone. And how I want a camp shirt pattern. And it was all really boring, so I deleted it. I'm restraining myself from deleting this, because, as I said, there is no such thing as writer's block. Nope nope nope. So I'm just going to keep writing.

Part of the problem may be that my head hurts. I don't know if it's about sleep or caffeine or heat. Or if I'm working up to a migraine. Whee?

Um.

Or it may be junk food deprivation. There are Thin Mints in the freezer in the garage that I'm not eating. And I'm imagining Pringles. Or Andes Mints. Or pound cake. I used to make pound cake from the recipe in a 1970s-era Joy of Cooking. It was really good. I want some now.

Um two.

See, I'm trying to refrain from eating sugar. It's resulted in losing a fair little bit of weight, very much to my surprise, because I've never really lost weight on a diet before. Though the weight loss might be coming from the fact that I'm no longer drinking a fair fraction of a gallon of milk every single day. I miss milk. It was my mood medicine. Now I'm getting my tryptophan from sliced turkey and raw sunflower seeds.

Um three.

There is no writer's block. Really. No such thing. Figment of the imagination.

I've been thinking of gradually learning to make all of my clothes. Except for underwear and shoes and raincoats and hats. Not that I wear a lot of hats. Did I mention the cloche hats? Ah, yes, sort of. And I wouldn't make T-shirts; I'd replace them with something else. Like camp shirts. With dropped sleeves. I'm having trouble with sleeves.

Oh, and socks. I'm not going to be making socks. Or panty hose. OK, I'm going to be making clothes that can logically be sewn out of woven fabric. Not including blue jeans. All those layers of denim are too hard to sew through.

Um.

That is all.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.