I will definitely sink

It's like the tattoo or maybe a picture shared on Facebook; the image of an old-timey anchor along with the words, "I refuse to sink."

Look, I know it's not supposed to be literal, but the picture and words just don't match for me! If you've got an anchor that refuses to sink, then you've got a crap anchor and soon you won't have a boat.
August is almost almost over and that is sad because it means I can't really wear my nautical themed stuff. (It's the law.) I guess I was too lazy to do a proper "before" picture.

There it is on a hanger what do you want from me I must have been busy. I got that at Goodwill over the winter from what I can recall. I seemed to remember a certain dollar day when I said, "fine, I'll do something with it for a dollar." Here's a closeup of the bodice.

While researching dresses from the company "Lanz Originals" on Etsy, guess what I happened to come across?

Well, look at that. It's by a cool vintage dress label and WHERE'S MY LITTLE SWEATSHIRT/ JACKET?!
I knew this was going to be a nautical-sailor themed dress that I have such a fondness for. So, when summer came around, I pulled this out of hiding. I decided that I hate square necklines, so I did that thing I always do where I pinch a little gather in the center of the bust area. I'm pretty sure I took a picture, but I did this months ago and I'm just know realizing summer's death is imminent and need to post about this asap. No time to search through all my pics, you'll have to wait until the end.
Look at how full the bottom of this thing is:

I wasn't sure how I felt about it, but decided not to mess around. I just cut about 2" off the bottom for the sash. It wasn't fraying so I didn't hem it. Corner cut. Now scroll up a bit and look at those odd little sleeves.
God damn it, I need to keep my pictures better organized! You'll have to imagine how those pointy ends this dress called "sleeves" made it look like I had wide shoulders. I cut them off, but don't worry I did hem the armholes.
So, I was getting somewhere. I went through a bunch of appliques and buttons to look for some sort of boat/anchor to add. That way there would be no mistake that this dress was nautical. I rememberd that several months ago, I pulled this out of the bins at the Goodwill outlet:

Cool, a sexy Halloween costume! Everyone knows that when you wear rubber gloves and dig an item from a large bin of undesirable castoffs, said item should be laundered immediately. Unless...

I want my $.70 back. Can't wash it in any way? I'm guessing the cheap blue dye would run over everything else. I figured I could use it for spare parts. I was reminded of something I've seen when browsing vintage nautical dresses.

Look at that wacky, waving mannequin. See how there's a large anchor right up at the top? Maybe? I seam rippered the gold applique off my costume. Here's a preview with the bodice with the bust gather and anchor.

I'm glad I made the sash belt, because an actual belt might be overkill. I did add a few gold studs to it for some reason.

Done.

I guess this is the demure and modest pose that doesn't fit with the style of the post or the dress.

See you when school starts.

Let's Review

Since school starts tomorrow (and I've been losing sleep with anxiety about it) I declare that today is officially my last day of summer. Here are some of the things you missed. Because I didn't share a blog post about them. I was busy, that's why.
Many of my items are refashions, but here are a few items that were just great thrift scores with no need for alteration.

This gorgeous aqua with white piping, sleeveless shirt dress. I love it. I took in the bodice a little.

Got it at Outfitters awhile back, put it away for winter, then kinda forgot about it. It was $5. I added the belt because I can't resist waist accentuating,
Check this out: it's a whale skirt.

Thar she blows! I paid full price for it at Goodwill; $5. It's vintage! Well worth it! Look at the whales!

I paired it with an anchor print crop top which totally goes with it. It's such a childlike garment, and I really wasn't sure what to match it with.

I said I was showing you a "few" things, which usually means more than two. The third thing was these:

There, I zoomed in. They are cute, black, wedge sandals and they're made by Dansko which I'm told is an expensive working lady shoe. Sticking with the theme, these were $4.99 at Savers.
For the fixer uppers, we have this:

This thing...it's so cute and summer-y. I bought it last summer and maybe wore it once. I hate being hot and this seersucker thing is perfect for staying cool and looking great. What's wrong here?

LOL, I censored it. It's a halter style and it's backless. I can't wear that to summer school. I DO NOT WANT TO LAYER! I probably did take pictures of the process, but let's just cut to the chase. I cut up a stretchy tank top and sewed it to the dress so that it looks like I've got it on underneath.

I went with black because I like it. I wish I had a black background. Do you see the fabric? The tiny white and light aqua stripes?

Here it is from the back:

There is more to show, but I was just over it that day, just like I am now. It's the night before school and I'm stressin' hardcore. I'm going to prepare now.

Thrift Hoard: Holy Grails

I feel like there certain items that most thrift store lovers/vintage sellers tend to covet. These are things that I find on a Goodwill shelf that I can't believe are still sitting there, because everyone loves those things.
For instance; globes, Pyrex, old luggage, and typewriters:

You see that on the bottom shelf and you're like, "hey, what's that thing? An old, plastic cassette tape holder?" Then you pop the lid...

 Well, kiss my grits! Look at the color of that typewriter!

Already listed here because it's one of those thing that kicks you in the ass and you want to clean all the grime and get that thang staged and photographed. The Smith Corona Giah Super G: one kickass typewriter.
The word "ubiquitous" is not one that I use nearly enough. I did use it to describe these popcorn bowls, because I feel like I see them on blogs and sale sites quite often. Of course, this was the first time I've seen them in the wild.

Hello there, Mr heavy glass popcorn bowl. Don't you look retro, mod, unchipped, and fresh! Your yellow sticker is half off this week! Oh, and you have your four kids with you?!

Here they are amongst several other glass popcorn bowl sets on Etsy.
I didn't actually know that this old poster book was any great find. I like the pictures and all, but meh... Also, I almost never get out my phone and try to research value in the store. I try to shop as efficiently as possible. If it's cheap and it's something I think is great, I'll bring it home and list it.

Posters of Mucha, published in 1975. Prints from Art Nouveau artist, Alfonse Mucha. I checked to see if any others were for sale on Etsy. There were; and they were in the $50 range. Aww yeah.

Posters of Mucha on Etsy.
I found these next items a few weeks back. Look, I'm sure about cultural significance or racial insensitivity of these wall plaques. They just seemed really interesting from an art point of view and in pretty good shape.

Yes, they're listed.
The last thing I'm showing you is definitely not a hot item from most.

A 70s latch hook rug? Laaame. There are millions of those old things for sale. But, this one is nautical themed! You know how I roll! Put an anchor on it, I'll buy the hell out it!
Question is...will you?
Honestly, this whole post was not meant to be a big sales pitch. I really just like thrift shares. Since you're reading my blog, feel free to ask for deal on any items you like, I'm a little flexible.
Linking up at Sir Thrift A Lot.

Do they know it's Halloween at all? it's a dress refashion

I'm referencing this song in the title. You know, but instead of "do they know it's Christmas time at all?' I'm saying Halloween. Because it's October. Clearly, I'm unaware of the upcoming holiday, because instead of a fun, sexy costume, I got this:

Dark navy dress that's too big

Shall I go on? It's too big, and it's missing a hook and the belt that went with it. And that piece I'm holding on the right isn't a pocket. I don't know what it is. It's just a side flap.
Shall I continue story that I started over a month ago. So, it's last winter and I'm working in kindergarten with a little boy I'm calling Z. While he made progress, the boy whom I had helped the previous year (B) and then sent to first grade was slipping. B's behavior was becoming difficult to manage. It made me sad.
One day, I was leaving lunch and saw B in the hallway, hollering profanities at a male aide, his small boy's fists flying as he attempting to engage in battle with a grown man. I called his name, pleading for him to talk to me, but it was as if he didn't hear me. It was as if I was looking at a different child.
The next day, his teacher and our principal were apparently at their wit's end with B. The principal came to see me in kindergarten, asking "can you help this child?" She brought my little boy back to me. I told them that I was happy to help, provided that he set a good example for Z by behaving during his visit. And he was absolutely pleasant for the whole time.
For the 2013-14 school year, we had kindergarten kids eating lunch in their classrooms to help ease congestion in the cafeteria. B seemed to have a hard time controlling his behavior in the loud room full of children, so I told him that if his teacher said it was ok, he was welcome to have lunch in our kindergarten class. It meant taking on an additional responsibility, but it was important to me that I keep my word to be there for him.
This helped a little, but soon it seemed like he was spiraling out of control. There were many days when he had to have his grandfather called to pick him up, as he was unable to stay in school. Soon, he was infamous among staff for his profanity filled meltdowns and small acts of destruction. Keep in mind this was a small for his age little boy with a sweet little voice and his two front teeth missing. It was breaking my heart to see the little cherub I had nurtured the previous year this way.
They had no choice but to place a paraprofessional to be with him throughout the day. He moved into a different first grade class, to separate him and the little buddy he seemed to cause trouble with. He asked me, one day at lunch (towards the end of  the year) when these kids in my kindergarten class would be going to first grade. I told him that they'd go to first grade next year, when he went to second grade. He responded by telling me that when the next year started, he would be starting first grade all over again. His grandparents and the SPED team agreed that he should stay back.
That was probably a good choice. Z had moved to a new apartment and was finishing his kindergarten year at this school, before starting somewhere new in the fall. maybe B and I would work together again, I thought.
Here, I shall pause in the story to show you my refashioned dress. No pics of the process, there's no time for that. I took in the sides of the top a little, then took a little off the shoulders. I added a hook in the center, where it was missing. I changed out the matching buttons for...finally! Anchor buttons!

I actually went out and bought a belt for this, as nothing I had seemed to match or fit the loops. I found a navy elastic thing for $1.

Those big round things are a bit much, right. I was able to remove one. Finally, I decided to do little gathers on the shoulders to make them fit better. Here ya go:

After! I love it. It's a school dress. Well, it is when I put a shirt under it. It's perfect for first grade.
 First grade? But I started this story because I was upset about my assignment in preschool, why I say "first grade"? (I'm imagining that's what readers are thinking.) I'll explain--Hey look! There's a ghost in this next picture!

It's an orb! I'm looking right at it!
I was trying to redirect your attention because I'm too tired to keep writing. Here's the quick version: Preschool was like a totally different world that I was unaccustomed to. It felt a little like babysitting. The morning class was actually just two twin three-year-olds, who appeared and had the maturity of babies. Adorable, hug-worthy babies; but still...The older kids in my care for the afternoon were four and non-verbal, and non potty-trained.
The little girl was so sweet... and scared. This manifested in agitated aggression. I extended a hand to hold, and she responded by wrapping her arms around me, then jumping and wrapping her legs around me, and climbing me like a pole. Poor little thing was very big and strong! She screamed and cried, biting onto toys like a shark with a surfer's leg. She grabbed a stack of 20 papers off the desk and bit right through them. It seemed clear she has Autism, although not officially diagnosed. Could I keep her safe? I worried. Of course, my biggest concern was something else.
Diaper changing. My fears were confirmed. I became slightly nauseous and scared when attempting to deal with human waste. Apparently, these kids were going to come in each afternoon and poop every time. Maybe because I'm not a parent, maybe it's just lack of experience, but I just didn't like it. I felt justified in telling my boss, I don't feel comfortable cleaning the poop from the butt of someone else's child.

 For the month of September, I did my best and grew to care for the little ones, specifically the sweet little she-Hulk who just stole my heart. They deserved better; someone with more experience who got enjoyment from this age group. These little children who can't use a toilet, can't speak for themselves...they're innocent and sweet. As for me, I'll take an angry, foot stomping, 7 year old, who's calling me a stupid jerk, and I'll be ready to work.
That's what they gave me.
For the last two weeks I've been back with B in my own first grade teacher's class (yup, my first grade teacher still teaches). Of course, on the very first day of our joyous reunion, we encountered a problem. He is suffering from a severe phobic reaction to a kindergarten boy who chased him; due to this child having only one fully formed arm. B breaks into a sobbing panic attack at the sight of this smaller boy who happens to have one regular arm and one that is a small arm with two fingers. He doesn't want to go in the caf or out to recess.
Finally all caught up on my story telling; and the meme from Arrested Development that I used to tease last week makes sense now:

And here's the before and after pic with the lettering off center. Sue me.

Gimme some rope I'm comin loose

I'm at the end of my rope! (title of post is from Foo Fighters, btw) Many times when I had previously claimed to have been at the end of my rope, I was wrong, and still had much more to lose! Like all those times I've thought that I had hit rock bottom, thus had nowhere else to go but up. LOL nope. Throw me a rope, I've fallen into a pit of despair!
All this talk of rope is going somewhere. I wanted to show this necklace:

 Then, this kickass anchor embroidered L.L.Bean skirt from Savers:

There's actually a whole body around here, somewhere.

  Finally; I will continue with the topic I was prattling on about in my last post. You see, it's that sad time known as the end of summer. When you wake up one morning to a light breeze and feel like you missed out on enjoying your whole summer (and by that extension; your whole life) and you just turned a year older and you're watching your youth slip away. Oh, and it's going to be fall, so you can't wear your nautical themed stuff any more. Ain't no one gonna be on a boat anyway. 

To begin this week's tale of loss, I take you back...

The time was August, 2012. People were jamming ironically to the sounds of  Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe." "The Dark Knight" was in theaters. Barack Obama was in the White House...Ok, it wasn't exactly that long ago. I had just gone through a summer of change. It was filled with ups and downs, alcohol and tears, and it ended with me resigning from WAW Wrestling, which was an important part of who I was. It was a hard time, but I what I didn't know was that my hard times were only just beginning.

I showed up on the first day of school, still not knowing what my assignment was. I was a teacher, but feeling lack of confidence in that role, I was instead working as a paraprofessional. My job is to work with students who have special needs throughout their school day. On that late August day of 2012, my boss handed over my case load: Three little boys in kindergarten. The classroom teacher, Jamie and I went outside to the playground to meet our new students. (who's names will be abbreviated for their anonymity, duh).

One little boy stood out. B was an adorable little boy with blond hair and blue eyes. He stood nervously, with his grandmother by his side as he clutched his Cars lunchbox in his hands. As we introduced ourselves, he pretended to sneeze. 

"He does that when he's nervous," his grandmother said. We were about to head in. I wasn't sure how he'd react, but wanting to ease some his fear, I held out my hand.

"Would you like to hold hands?" I asked him. Much to my delight, he reached out and put his hand in mine. From that moment on, I knew I would have a bond with this child.

Interjecting some outfit-of-the-day pictures, throughout the story. Because blogs need pictures.

Classroom life wasn't always about the joy of teaching cherubic little five year olds. My little boy, K was visually impaired and very shy, but usually an easy kid to work with. M was a well-dressed, handsome little sweetie who worked very hard at avoiding work. B's issues seemed mostly emotional.  

In other grades, teachers make up classrooms in certain ways because they know the kids. They'll spread out difficult students, and avoid certain pairings. In kindergarten, you don't know what you're gonna get. Our class was rife with tantrums, disagreements, and all around poor choices in behavior. B would copy what other kids were doing and he would even come up with his own naughty routines.

 I remember him pulling at my dress, as I tried to brush him off and walk away in order to ignore his plea for attention. He would use swears (although usually incorrectly) and other "naughty" words. One time, for no reason at all he spat the word, "bitch!" at a little girl who knew very little English. She looked at me in horror, as she apparently knew that word. I comforted the girl, reminding everyone to try and ignore behavior like that. One afternoon, he ran laps on the ramp area of our room and eventually hollered to me, "Ms. C! I am running on the ramp!" exasperated that I wasn't stopping him. 

"I know you are," I replied, as I read with K. "I'm paying attention to a child who is behaving." I explained that he didn't have to act foolish for my attention because I liked him.

B had an unusual background. Removed from his parents, the year before, he was raised by his grandparents whom he called Papa and Meme. It seemed he was very well taken care of. Both grandparents were such kind people and good to him. He was always prepared for school and on time. If he had a note from home, he would take it from his folder and give it to us, first thing--just like they told him to. I remember him complaining about a hurt knee and saying that he fell while playing football with his papa the day before. I couldn't believe that this older gentleman worked all day, and then still had the energy to toss a football. He was in good hands, but I was worried that whatever happened in his life before his grandparents still haunted him. 

Sometimes, when he was upset it looked like he was reverting to a baby's coping mechanism of crying out and flailing his hands. When he took a little spill on the playground, he sobbed and cried "owee!" When I pointed out that he didn't have any cuts, just some sand on his palms, he quickly calmed down.  We made behavior charts for the boys, throughout the day. Each activity had a space where we could color in green, yellow, or red (blue if you did something really awesome) to indicate behavior. I remember the first time he had a good chart with some positive comments. I told him that his grandfather was going to be very happy when he came to pick him up. He seemed surprised. "He's gonna be happy?" he asked, as if he didn't realize how that worked.

One particular moment from this time will always be with me. One of our other tough cases, BP, was not a SPED (special needs) kid, but a smaller and younger boy who was prone to tantrums and outbursts. During an autumn recess, B and BP ran up to me, each with their pointing fingers extended at each other shouting "he threw sand at me!" What a sad little sight, two angry little boys covered in sand. I told them I don't know who did it first, but pointed out they didn't solve a problem, as they were both all sandy and they were both mad. We went in and it looked like B had some sand near is eyes. I grabbed a wet paper towel and gently wiped it off so he didn't rub it in. Suddenly, he smiled at me as if having some moment of clarity. "Mama!" he exclaimed. "Thank you, mama!"

Oh nooo...How on earth does one respond to that? "Honey, I'm not mama," I said with a smile. "I'm Ms. C." and that was about the best I could come up with.

Anyway, fall turned to winter, winter to spring. K moved away, and my remaining boys got a little bit bigger and even lost some teeth. B's tantrums were fewer and fewer. He still got himself into trouble, usually in the cafeteria, where it was noisy and crowded. Sometimes, I would send him to a time out in the room next door. He would leave our room, furious, his brows all furrowed. When I would collect him, he looked up from the time out spot with this big smile. His anger subsided, he was ready to return. I asked him if he understood that I put him in time out to help him and I pointed out his smile. He was sorry for "using potty words." He was learning. I was so proud of him.

While this was going on at school, my life outside of work was spinning out of control. By April, I was at an all time low. (The details can be found here!) After a particularly awful night, I somehow managed to drag myself into work the next morning and was told I had to go to another class and cover while that teacher was in a meeting. I went back to my kindergarten room about 20 minutes after the start of the day. 

 Upon my entrance, M and BP (who looked like they were just loitering) ran and wrapped their arms around me, with cries of "you're here!" Jamie looked to B and said, "See? I told you she was here," as a beautiful smile of relief came over the little boy's face. 

Holy crap. It's not like I had never been out sick before...what's up with these guys? M hadn't even hung up his backpack, yet. I had a moment. I realized that my little, insignificant life had a purpose, at least on that day. I had to go to work. I would have to find a way to get out of bed each morning and go to school for these children I pledged to be there for. There was a reason to go on; somebody needed me. 

In a way, I guess I needed them. I'm about to lose my sense of purpose.

Well, now seems like a good time to call it quits for the day! I'll totally finish this tomorrow. I'll leave you with some pics of how I adjusted this skirt. It was loose around the waist, and I planned on taking in the waistband with a couple pinches in back. That didn't work! The zipper wasn't long enough to accommodate my ass! I would have to do some kind of elastic thing. 

Do you see what I did there? Yes, it's all bunched up, but I'm ok with that. I was able to open up the seams on both sides and push a thick elastic through just the back section. 

See? On the right, that end is sewn into the seam. On the left, it's safety pinned. I tried  it on and pulled the side with the pin to where I wanted it and then sewed it in place like the other side. A completely easy task that anyone with two hands can do. Love easy stuff.

I'm just not feeling my rope necklace. It's made out of craft store rope attached to a ship pendant, which for some reason has two jump ring attachments, instead of just one in the middle. The other side is a piece of black chain with two buttons hanging off. The anchor button was just silver, but I painted it blue and then wiped it off the surface, so that the paint remained only in the cut away part. Looks cute on display, not so much as a necklace.