Tops and trips

Thank you for all the helpful comments. I will be following up on pattern suggestions.

I made a muslin of the Sunny last night, hoping to follow failure with success.

Nope.

Maybe it's just me but it sort of looked like a sleeping bag with two spaghetti arms sticking out of it.

I realize that this look, which I have run into with some of the latest Stylearcs, is fashionable, the loose body and the skinny arms.

If this is what you are starting with anyway it doesn't exactly bring out the positive.

Moving on.

I don't know how much sewing I will get done in the next few days. I leave for NYC Wednesday afternoon and have a truck load of marking to do plus get the house and Mr. R ready for my friend who is going to be house/dog sitting while I am gone.

I am looking forward to spending time with my son and his girlfriend but you know I am not crazy about the plane part. It seems flights get cancelled a lot these days once you get to the airport, you have to cram in line with your shoes off, and they reduce the leg room by 3" every trip. You feel like baggage.

My preferred way to travel is on a road trip with my spouse who usually picks me up at school when we go to Florida with the car all packed and my coffee in the holder - but next to that I would like the train.

If I could drive the 15 minutes to the train station here and get off in Central Station I would be happy, but of course that isn't possible. And who has the time anymore?

When I was a very small girl my dad drove my grandparents to BC and we took the train home through the Rockies to Manitoba.

I remember it being incredibly glamorous. There were very nice people who folded down your sheets for you and brought you treats because you were a kid, and observation car where the grown ups played cards, and dinner with silverware on the table and flowers. The drinks had cherries.

When I was in university in Montreal I had a friend whose dad was the chef for the president of the railway. We went down to Gare Central down, down many layers of tracks and he sat us in the president's car and made us lunch. I could not believe he could actually cook in a rolling kitchen smaller than my small bathroom. I couldn't believe all the work that got done in such small spaces. My grandfather on my mother's side and all his brothers worked for the railway and I realized they had spent their lives doing that. Swaying along as they walked between cars all over Canada. One cousin actually died between cars from a heart attack. My grandfather died running along the platform for the train.

He was never late, said my mother. She has his watch. Well maybe just that one time.

And I sort of believe when you travel you should experience the space, not fly over it. Distances are real, something you should see and feel and not necessarily something you cancel out with ear buds and a curved pillow around your neck.

When you travel these days all the matters is the destination. Not sure that is always the best way to travel.

In life either.