My mom always used to wear matching bras and panties. Not that they had the same exact print, or anything, but maybe the top would be beige and the bottoms would absolutely have to have that same beige somewhere, even if it were a little bow in the center front or something to that effect.
I always wondered why, which isn't a big surprise, because I'm about the least matchy-matchy person out there. (For example, I refuse to wear two hand-knit items at once, unless they are gloves or mittens or socks or...is there any other knit item that comes in pairs?) But after a few years ago, when a biopsy I had of a teeny tiny mole on my thigh came back with the title: "Early Melanoma," (my mom succumbed to a rare form about five years ago), well, I rethought the matchy-matchy underwear thing because, after I had a huge chunk taken out of my thigh to prevent its spreading, I had to start undergoing body scans every three months.
And they let me wear my underwear, only, and maybe my glasses, too, but that is it.
So that is the reason why my stuff matches now, at least most days. Unless I'm turning into my mother, or something.
So, I've been working like a dog on this Adult version of Drive-Thru. I just finished one sleeve. Once I can finish the other one, I can get started on refining that pesky motif on the yoke. I want to keep it simple, but make it definitely more sophisticated that the kids' version. Thing is, every time I sit down to work on it, something else calls out my name. Last night, on a whim, I decided to spray paint two teak bookshelves that were in my office. Now that the walls are chartreuse, that teak finish just won't work.
But I ask you this: Why is it, on the spray paint can, they don't tell you how far the paint particles spread? Forget about my feet. You should see the garage.
(And yes, I went to my body scan this morning with these feet. They were hard to leave at home.)