I am busy working on the Sampler girl St Patrick's Day Cupboard Sampler. I have SO's mom's done. Now for his sister and brother to each get one. My mom knows she is getting one too, and of course we get one, but ours will be last. I have three of these to stitch and finish this week. I tried to find coin candy on Saturday on my way to work for his sister's sampler, but no go! The closest I can come to leprachaun gold are Rocher candies. Those aren't kid candies though. I told SO that we are going to have to get M&M's and pick out the green and yellow ones for them.
Of course this is all contingent on my ability to get to the fabric store for fabric and trim. Surprise, I have nothing appropriate for St. Patrick's Day in my stash! I dropped the car off at the body shop this morning to be worked on. They seemed slightly dubious that it was going to be an easy fix. RUH ROH. They're supposed to be looking at it, and who knows from there. Y'all, at that moment I seriously wanted to just run as far and as fast away from the car as possible, screaming and waving my hands. It probably would have been a good stress reliever, because when he said, "We'll probably end up doing a supplemental estimate," time slowed down, a roaring entered my ears, and I developed a migraine. ARRRRRRRGHHHHHH.
Anyway, I am driving SO's Tahoe until my car is fixed. This is probably one of the reasons I have a migraine. It's a huge change from either the Neon or the Vibe. I keep telling myself I learned to parallel park in a Dodge Dakota with a cap and poor power steering, using my father as a traffic cone (he is a brave man), this has to be easier than that. Then I remember, the Tahoe is a little bigger. But, I mean, seriously, how difficult can it be to drive that truck? A lot of women around here drive bigger SUVs than that, and it's a lot cheaper than a rental car. I'll figure it out. It's what has to be done. And it's not like I'm gonna be riding up and down the Pike in it--SO asked me not to joyride in it. But I do need fabric. Maybe he'll drive there . . .