May the 4th be With You

The first Surly Griffin game of the season is fast approaching. Roller derby is exciting enough, but when CRDL go and come up with THIS poster for bout 2, you know it’s going to be epic.

Don’t believe me? I find your lack of faith disturbing.

You can get tickets here You really should. Seriously stop looking at the awesome poster and go get some tickets before they sell out.

20130425-222742.jpg

.

Tall Poppies

When I started Red Lead Kitty it was my intent for this blog to be predominantly about sewing.  I love creating, I love fashion and I admire the many women who are rocking the blogging world with their talent and wit. I sew alone most of the time and a blog seemed like good way to share what I was doing with the wider community. 

But then I started having a bit of a blogger identity crisis. I found myself wanting to write about other subjects I’m passionate about.  About roller derby, and pop culture and hell even food (I’ve been taking food photos for years – I’m a natural blogger). This is all ok because this is my blog, a space to post whatever I want. It is for me, not an audience.

However the audience IS there. When you post you are throwing yourself out into the world, saying here I am, this is what I think. Do I want the world to think I am a giant douche bag? I do not.

I like a rant, I really do. I’m also a big fan of telling it how it is. But recently in the sewing blog community I have seen some posts that honestly enter massive douche territory. This too is ok, because everyone has a right to voice his or her opinions. But when you are outright attacking another person, that is not cool.  That is being a bitch. When you are having a spit because you didn’t rate a mention in a competition, you are being a twat.  Hey, it’s your blog, go ahead and be a twat. If I don’t like what you say I’ll move on. Please do the same here. Or comment and tell me what you think. Conversation is good too.

But don’t hide your ugliness behind a piece of writing and say it’s in the name of constructive criticism. This makes me all kinds of angry.  To out rightly name another person and say they have no talent or right to be doing what they are doing does not reflect poorly on that person. What is does is make you look like an arse.

Tall poppy syndrome – Wiki that shit people and maybe take a long hard look at your posts before you hit publish. 

Judy Blume

When you are 12 years old getting your periods is a big deal, along with boys you REALLY  like and in my case, Twin Peaks.

That would be the haunting 90′s tv show by the way, not what I hoped to one day to fill my training bra with. However if “I must I must increase my bust” strikes a cord then read on nostalgic visitor.

While I don’t actually recall any ‘talks’ with my parents (I’ve blocked them out, sorry Mum) I do remember reading Judy Blume. Even the mention of her name takes you back doesn’t it, to a time when everything just seemed simpler, despite the hormonal war raging in your clueless body.

For me Blume is an author that just got what it was like to be a pre teen or ‘middle grader’, a term as delightfully American as the books themselves.  I don’t remember anything else like it, her text had the ability to tantalise and comfort us at the same time. It made you feel normal, despite at times the obvious cultural references.

Image

I have just finished reading Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. It’s been about 20 years after I would have first read it and 43 years after the novel was first published. That is some crazy shit right there.

It was thoroughly enjoyable to revisit, but what smacked me right in the face was how I completely missed the gist of the story as a child. You would have thought the title would have given the 12 year old me a heads up, but to be fair I was probably distracted, trying to imagine what the hell a sanitary belt was (The updated publications have actually changed this reference to adhesive pads, totes modern).

“That’s ridiculous!” my mother said when I told her. “You know how Daddy and I feel about religion.

“You said I could choose when I grow up!”

“But you’re not ready to choose yet, Margaret!”

“I just want to try it out,” I argued. “I’m going to try a church too, so don’t get hysterical!”

“I am not hysterical! I just think it’s foolish for a girl of your age to bother herself with religion.”

 Unsurprisingly it is Margaret’s parents I now identified with, and their efforts to raise their daughter free from religious influence. The book is of course about Margaret’s struggle to identify herself through a single religion. She is confused about where she fits and also has to witness the family conflict created by her Christian grandparents. They are mighty pissed that their daughter married a Jewish guy and pretty much disown her.  They are also shocked that their granddaughter is denied the guilty good times found at Sunday School.

Let’s be honest, the maternal grandparents are arseholes. Sylvia however, Margaret’s Jewish grandmother, is someone you want to know more. She is warm, a little cunning but always with good intent.

 “Grandma is really clever. She knew my parents would never say no to one Saturday a month at Lincoln Center. That was culture. And they thought culture was very important.”

Margaret’s parents wish for her to choose her own religion when she is ready. I suspect they hope this decision will never come. I like that Margaret confides in God, but slams organised religion. She is a savvy kid.

“I’m not any religion,” I said.

“You’re not!” Gretchen’s mouth fell open.

“What are your parents?” Janie asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“How positively neat!” Gretchen said.

 What was your favourite Judy Blume book? Do you think they are still relevant for teens today?

Tessuti Gridlock Competition

Image

Watson Jacket baby – done did! I totally sewed the hell out of this pattern.

Image

Image

ImageImage

Image

I’m glad I’m not the only one who was cutting this deadline fine, lots of great garments are popping up on the Pinterest board right now. With 33 minutes to spare I emailed these appalling photos to Tessuti. Natural light – who needs it!

Well obviously me, rather desperately. This is what you get for leaving it to the last minute…again.

I’d like to make this one again, but in a black fabric with a less jaunty capelet and no sleeves.

I’m not going to lie, this fabric is not me. But it was good to have this challenge as a motivator.

Image

Oh, and it’s bigger on the inside. Well I say bigger, I mean lined.