Masks and questions

A friend of mine was sent a request for fabric face masks for the Rollette County first responders. She does not sew, so she passed it on to our wider group to see if any of us could help them. While I’m not sure exactly what they will use the homemade masks for, I was willing to try.

As the curator of a large private textile collection, plenty of supplies are available. LOL — this is the time for all good (hoarders) seamstresses to take our rightful place!

Since all the confusion over the Covid-19 virus began, I have collected several “in the hoop” mask patterns for the embroidery machine. I didn’t have a “need” for them at the time. Originally, our local hospital did not want homemade masks, but I am saved the patterns anyway. As a beginner to the embroidery machine, I am building up my pattern collection by collecting the “freebie patterns” that designers make available.

This seemed like the right time to try using those patterns. While making the masks in the hoop sounded like a good idea, it was not as easy as it sounded. I finally gave up on that idea and am now using the regular sewing machine. The patterns and instructions were not user friendly at my skill level. As it turned out, the majority of construction of these “in the hoop” patterns is done on the ironing board anyway!

I searched out patterns for the regular sewing machine. Was not excited about any of those either. What I ended up doing was bastardizing several patterns to make one design that seems to work out reasonably well. Hopefully they will be what the end users are looking for!

I did, of course, find yet **another** “free” in the hoop pattern last night, so I will have to try that one out. Hope springs eternal..

Monkey Business on the Mouse River

Roosevelt neighborhood takings

At a meeting at the Moose Lodge several years ago, a spokesman for the city of Minot commented about one intention of the resilience grant was to keep people from being financially ruined by the city’s taking of their property.

This is an established neighborhood of moderate means. People have worked very hard and paid for their houses, and they cannot afford to start making mortgage payments because somebody in another part of the city wants to profit off the backs of those of us in a less expensive neighborhood.

One intention of this resilience grant was to permit the city to make up the cost difference, because if you have a paid off, three bedroom, 1500 square foot house that is being taken by the city, you should be able to move into another paid off, three bedroom, 1500 square foot house without being driven to financial ruin in the process.

Nice Girls

Nice Girls Don’t…

In the world where I grew up, I was taught from infancy, “Nice girls get fully dressed before leaving their bedroom.”

Fully dressed includes all clothing, socks, and enclosed shoes.

It was never acceptable to walk around the house wearing stockings without shoes. Socks are an undergarment, not outerwear.

Nice girls would no more go out in public with bare feet than with a bare bottom.

At the pool or the beach, you could wear thongs or sandals, but they were not considered appropriate for street wear in public.

A few years ago, people started wearing shower shoes in public and calling them “flip flops.” About that same time, some people started asking guests in their house to remove their shoes. In my brain, that is a slightly disreputable request. I always expect the next comment to be, “Pssst…Take off your pants, and we can look at some naughty pictures.”

not so tasty chicken

slim chikn

The good, the bad, the ugly.

The lines have been insane since it opened, so we waited to try the new Slim Chickens until today. (13 Jan 2020, 1214hrs)

The cute guy ordered a Classic Meal and I ordered a Bacon Ranch Chicken Sandwich Meal.

$18.79. Spendy for a fast food lunch – about five bucks more than eating at McD’s or our usual order at Subway. I pay at the counter, they give me a number and two glasses, and we go into the dining room to look for a seat.

The cute guy spotted the row of tiny tables for two. I could not see them, as they were hidden behind the bar-high tables for six. These tables for two are tiny, but we sit down and stand up the number. On the table is a cardboard corral, holding a roll of paper towels and a ketchup bottle. The table is a bit wobbly, so the corral is needed to keep the paper towels on the table. The cute guy raises his eyebrows at the roll of paper towels instead of a napkin dispenser. We laughed, assuming the need for a roll of paper towels was a good sign and promised us amazingly juicy fried chicken.

We filled our sodas from the dispenser and the server brought out our meals. The tabletop was completely filled when she set down the meal bowls. My sandwich was dry. I had expected it to be juicy chicken, dripping with gooey ranch dressing. It needed salt. The cute guy also needed salt for his meal, so he went up to get some from the rack. He brought back packets of pepper. There was no salt in the holder marked “S & P,”  just pepper.

“I’ll go to the counter and ask,” I said as I stood up.  The table rocked, and my cup hit the floor. It exploded. It had a “spillproof” lid on the cup, which was still secure, but the side was split out.

I picked up the cup and went up to the counter.  I waited as several other people were waited on. Each of the two people working the counter took several new food orders as I stood there. Finally somebody noticed me. “What can I get for you?”

I smiled. “I need salt, a new cup, sauce for my sandwich, and a mop.”

The lady working the counter handed me a cup and tossed the broken one. She called to a young man in the back to bring out salt, and went back to the front counter to take orders. He brought two salt packets and four pepper packets. I shook my head. “I don’t need any pepper — just salt.” He took back the pepper packets and brought out salt.

Half a loaf is better than none. No sauce for my sandwich, no mop…but I did get the salt and a cup. The cute guy used the roll of paper towels to mop up the floor. He didn’t like the garlic parmesan sauce he had got, so he offered it to me to try. It was more of an oil-vinegar salad dressing with garlic and parmesan – more oily than creamy. I was not impressed either.

I nibbled on a few fries. Then I picked up a French fry and saw the hair attached to it. Not a long hair of mine sitting on top, but embedded into the fry – short, black and curly. I showed it to the lady wiping the table next to us, and she was horrified. She quickly grabbed it, grabbed my bowl, and whisked it away.

A short while later, she returned with a new meal. Beaming proudly, she said “I had them remake the meal for you!”

She meant well. I wished she had not done that, as my appetite was gone. It is actually hard to destroy my appetite — I didn’t get this girlish figure by missing many meals — but I was not able to eat the replacement meal.

To be honest, I’m not sure what Slim Chicken could have done to make me happy at that point. I do know I won’t ever go back there, and I cannot give them a good review.