I Have A Confession

I once smacked the crap out of a grade-school chum because she sat in my seat and wouldn’t move and I wound up in the principal’s office. No, that’s not it.**

I used to sneak booze from the cabinet as a teenager when I was home alone.  This probably explains my aversion to vodka.  Nope, not that one either.**

I lied about where I was going and went to a Metallica concert the night before a big high school final exam. This explains my familiarity with…never mind.  No, no, no.**

The payoff for making the Pocahontas costume for The Diva’s class project was totally worth the angst and vile language I spewed with abandon. Yep, that’s the one!

Here she is, all Pocahontas’d up…

Did Pocahontas paint her toes, too?
Did Pocahontas paint her toes, too?

And, of course, we had to have feathers.  See, Sally, the feathers are pointed down!

Gad, she looks jaundiced!

The payoff?

Yep, it was worth it.
Yep, it was worth it.

Will I ever make another costume?  God willing, no but since I know He has a sense of humor, the answer’s probably yes.

And now for the disclaimer: all “**” stuff was someone else’s confessions.  I’d never pull that crap.



  1. Pocahonta’s is much better than school uniforms! She looked great (but yeah, there is some yellowing! Eeek!)

  2. Looks good and she looks happy. Nothing else matters. I will confess, I would make costumes for the entire class before I would ever hand stitch a binding. Actually, that would be a lot more fun than making a quilt for me.

  3. There ya go Steph, Mary can make you the costumes you need and you can hand stitch her bindings? Sounds good eh? LOL!

      • I have what my family refers to as “Mary’s Costume Lending Library.” Chances are fair that I already have the appropriate costume. In the correct size is another story. I never throw them out.

  4. OK, OK, I was being…anal. Again. But thank you for the pointed-down feather.

    I grew up not far from Jamestown, and went for an extended visit to New Mexico (that included visits to pueblos) when I was about 8. The juxtaposition of those experiences made me very aware of Native Americans as individual cultures. It has gotten me in trouble. Like the time I got all upset at my son’s third grade teacher when she had them wearing war bonnets, making totem poles, and eating Thanksgiving with the Pilgrims. SIGH As I told her, it would be like saying all Europeans wear wooden shoes, eat crepes, and travel in gondolas.

    Learning something is the point, right? I just want do my part to make sure this kid learns actual history, as opposed to the Disney version.

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