Cloche Hat 2: Movin' On Up to Fur. Also I HATE BELLY BUTTONS

First and foremost NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THE FUR FELT HOOD.  It's rabbit fur.  No death required.  Just some nice Czechoslovakians brushing bunnies for their fur.  OKAY?  Okay.

For the first cloche hat I blocked the entire thing in one piece.  This time there will be cutting and sewing and pleating and probably other things I haven't thought of yet, but they will occur.  When I was boiling water to soak the hood Charlie came in to the kitchen and said, "Ah.  Fumes.  Again."  Meaning the high inducing felt hat stiffener.  No, no fumes babe.  Just steam.

This hat is a wonderful aubergine shade.  You're going to look at pictures and say, "PURPLE, IT'S PURPLE YOU SNOB!"  But I'm sticking with aubergine because that's the color I ordered.  So meh!  No pinning at the start.  I'm liking this already.

Now I wait for it to dry.  Oh yay, another week of waiting!  Also you are becoming so familiar with our current kitchen.  I can't wait to move into our new place where I will have my own studio.  SWOON.  My parents can't wait either because then they can dump all my childhood paraphernalia on me, including the easel my dad built for me when I was in high school.

I have been out of the hospital for eight days now after a lovely week long stay.  My gallbladder was removed on March 8th.  The surgeon informed me prior to surgery that three small cuts would be made, no biggie.

LIES!

I wasn't prepared for one of those cuts included cutting into my belly button.  I have an extreme phobia about belly buttons that dates back to when I was a kid.  I remember visiting my aunt in her home after a cousin was born.  I volunteered to help change a diaper (stupid eight year old me) and saw the shriveled up end of the umbilical cord attached to what would become my cousin's belly button.  AUGH!  And guess what?  During that diaper change the black, shriveled up umbilical cord end FELL OFF.  Trauma!  Yeah, fine, call it weird or stupid but it's no different from having a phobia about feet or...whatever bodily phobia you have.  Oh!  I also had a drain in my side because some fluid from the pancreatitis  was floating around in there.  Fun!  The day I was released a different surgeon came in to remove the drain WHICH WAS SUNK SIX OR SEVEN INCHES INTO MY BODY.  So glad I had a private room.  Also I almost passed out when the surgeon went into detail about how big the scope was that went into my belly button incision.  I'll stick with counseling, thanks.

So for now I've been ordered to take it easy which is awesome cause it gives me an excuse to pick paint colors for the new abode and dream of hardwood floors as opposed to carpet.  Also I've had too much time to be introspective.  Well, more so than usual.  Also hyper analytical.  I just want to KNOW what makes people tick.  How they come to decisions, make choices, the meaning behind what they share.  Blah.  Psychology.  Anyway being in the hospital made me hyper aware that I hate asking for help.  After surgery the nurse told me to call for help when I needed to use the bathroom.  I only did once and that was because my drain was leaking.

I've been self reliant for a long time and there are probably times when I should ask for help but I don't.  I don't know it it's a pride thing or a long history of asking for help but not receiving it.  So I just don't.  It's really stupid, especially when you have the kind of support system that I do, and that I never, EVER take for granted.  Most of the time asking for help doesn't even cross my mind.  I just do it on my own.  And then afterward when I tell someone what I did they inevitably say, "I would have helped you with that" but honestly?  Asking doesn't even pop into my head.

This is definitely something I need to work on.  Tomorrow a moving company comes to give us an estimate on moving to our new house.  So soon I will be packing.  And cleaning.  But I won't be alone because I WILL ask for help.  Just not with my studio stash.  Thieveseses are everywhere!!