Sister Mary Martha, I do hope you'll keep us posted on the halloween costumes and how you manage without a trip to Joann. I don't watch any daytime drama, so this is my substitute. Please let us know?
There are more fabric stores in the world, but Sister St. Aloysius never goes to them. The main reason is that the others are clear downtown. That is a whole day trip. There is one place, though, on our side of town. It is actually within walking distance.
I drove. Unlike the dreaded JoAnn's parking lot in which you have to drive in off a busy street and if you don't find a space, drive back out onto the busy street to go back in again, at which point someone who just got there will get the space that just opened up, this place has a secret parking lot. Not many people know they can park behind the building.
Everything about this place seems secret. I always wondered why Sister St. Aloysius avoided it. It's hard to describe. Large, dark, sort of dirty, like some old warehouse in which someone thrust an enormous load of stolen sewing supplies and fabric and made a hurried get away. Huge bolts of fabric crammed together and stacked to the ceiling. Spool and spools of cord and trim and ribbon. It's overwhelming.
I wanted to turn around and walk back out, but I was on a mission to find baby rick rack and check out fabric prices. I couldn't ask any one at the counter because there was no one there. There could have been someone there ducking down. I would duck down if I worked there.
The clientele seemed to all be really serious sewers, people that do upholstery for a living, interior decorators, set designers. You can tell because they are all on one side of the store where the really enormous bolts of upholstery fabric and curtain material resides. I slipped into the other side of the store where the bolts of cotton for quilting and aprons and fun little girls dresses resides. No body was over there.
Or so I thought. As I came barreling up to the wall of fabric a small woman with very short salt and pepper gray hair just about jumped out of her skin. I think she thought for a moment that she was about to be assaulted. Or maybe she thought one of the giant bolts of black fabric had come to life and was about to beat her brains in.
But then, seeing it was me and not attack fabric, she settled back into looking at muslin.
I settled into checking the prices. Way too pricey for us. Good thing I really only needed baby rick rack.
And thank goodness it actually says 'baby' on the package or I would still be there.
Every other aisle or so I would once again find myself sharing oxygen with the little gray haired woman. She was wearing a army green sweat shirt and jeans, but she was neat as a pin. That's when it hit me, although she was not someone I had ever met.
The next time I found myself in the same aisle I nodded to her and said quietly, "Sister."
And she nodded her head in my direction and replied, "Sister."
It was the neat as a pin part that gave her away. Wonder if she making all the Halloween costumes in her neighborhood. Maybe she just needs some new curtains.
It has occurred to me that I could put on an army green sweatshirt and jeans and take my neat as a pin self into JoAnn's. There's no law that says I can't.