I need somebody. Not just anybody.

Let me get something off my chest and on the record. I believe this is probably the billionth time a woman has stated this - and while this won't be read by the masses, it WILL be read by my husband, and every repetition helps I think.

When I have a problem and I tell you about it, I don't want you to tell me how to solve it unless I ask for a solution. If I don't OUTRIGHT say "Help me figure out how to fix this" that means you should hold your tongue and simply ride the wave of frustration that, by the way, is not directed at you or solvable by you.

This happens with pretty much every male I know and I'm particularly tetchy today about it because of what happened last night.

As you know, my current master craft is a craft bag. I worked on its design for WEEKS. I have an extra long pencil case for it (Incase of long paintbrushes), I have a needle and pin holder, I have tiny holders with tiny tapes and tape measures etc. I designed it with 5 scissors pockets and a notebook holder and a hammer holder and so on.

This bag has got it all. Or it would...

Before I took a trip this weekend, I had gotten to the point -in the craft bag making process- where I was pinning and sewing binding on the inside seams. I felt pretty good about it. The colors are vibrant, and I was doing a pretty good job with the sewing. Although I could feel a sort of dark cloud looming just beyond the horizon, ready to swoop in and rain on my parade. Why, you ask? Because this bag is a behemoth. This bag is the mother of all bags. This bag may take up the entire back seat of my car. Yes, it will carry all that I want and need on a trip, but it's HUGE. I wanted this bag to last for years and years and years - but at this size, my choice is going to be between bringing my craft bag on vacation, or bringing my future child.

The bag is big. And another side effect of a bag the size of Jericho that is made out of fabric is that, when set on the ground, it closely resembles my deflated sense of accomplishment. It lays on the floor like a dead thing, all impotent and flappy.

I managed to ignore the impending floppiness until the moment I had turned it right side out and set it on the ground to begin pinning the binding to the top edge. At that point it was difficult to block out the fact that my bag (that should hold up hammers, scissors, pencil cases and more) was as limp as a wet noodle.

I don't know what to do. I'm very frustrated, and rather than break down emotionally last night, I got pissed at my bag and myself. Greg was in the room when I freaked out that it wasn't working, and that I'd basically wasted my time, and it doesn't look good, and it sucks and I suck!!!

And he swooped in and started saying "Well, I'm not sure you can do it anymore, but maybe you could have...".

This was the wrong thing to say on so many levels. First of all, see the top of this entry. Second of all, indicating that he who-has-not-used-a-sewing-machine knows more about sewing and reinforcement than me and ALSO knows what I should have done differently after thinking about it for all of half-a-second is like jumping up and down and waving your arms above your head asking excitedly if you can be next in front of the firing squad.

We (read I) may or may not have gone to bed mad. This morning I am still edgy but that's mainly because I know there's an impotent noodle bag waiting for me at home, just taunting me with its inability to stand up.



Now. Help me figure out how to fix this. Do any of you have any ideas? I'm toying with a sort of skeleton on the inside. Everything's pretty much sewn. I could add things, but it will be tricky. Something to insert might be best. But what?
*sigh*

Help.