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Yesterday my family threw a massive triple-decker birthday party for me, my twin sister and my AWESOME sister-in-law.  (Happy Birthday E. & K!)  My Padre (affectionately called “Lurch”) gave me the perfect birthday present; and I only had to drop one teensy little hint. 

I am already in-love (Sorry handsome, don’t be mad.  wink wink)  Within ten minutes of my nephews ripping off the wrapping paper I already had three requests to “fix this” and “make me that” and “can you patch my crotch?”  (I swear that is a true statement, although  I will not reveal which manly-man blurted out THAT gem of a question.)  I already have about a hundred projects of my own to tinker with; curtains for the loft, snappy lime-green Euro shams for my bed, a slip-cover for that nasty-looking plaid couch.  Not to mention the notebooks full of dresses, vests and jackets that I have been sketching long before Project Runwayand Heidi Klum came to town.

 I am so excited to go to the fabric store and pick out something for a fantastic shirt-dress, something else for a swanky little vest (dark gray herringbone, perhaps?), some lime-green and stripey for my next incarnation of my bedroom, and something neutralish for a sofa slipcover.  Oh, and I suppose I’ll have to find a crotch-patch for a certain someone, while I’m at it.

 I am typically the anti-domestic diva; routinely claiming to be domestically defunct; or at best domestically dormant.  But, give me a month or two to figure out all those little buttons, and to scrounge up my small-but-stunning collection of Vogue patterns, and I’ll be posting pictures all over the Internets that will make Miss Martha jealous…or, rather, at least not embarrass her.