There are

thirteen Smiths on the fiction shelves in Borders.

Thirteen.

I need me a new name.

We were talking about names the other day, my family and I. I think it was Julie who was considering the tradition of passing on names and asked why Dad wasn't named after his mum's dad. I can't really remember how she came to that slightly contorted conclusion. Anyway point is if he had been named for his maternal grandfather, my father would be John Smith.

I mean I have nothing against my surname, it's easy to spell and pronounce and balances out my long first name so I can usually just about fit it on a line but damn it isn't very exciting.

More exciting I got the cutest top, and I mean the cutest top, and a skirt from my local designer charity shop. Got them both for a tenner I did which is fantastic considering the top was more than that originally on its own. I do love secondhand shopping. There are so many ugly things that I want to own and make pretty but I'm not that talented and often they are too expensive. I still long for them though. Terrible dresses haunt my sewing machine. One of my biggest regrets clothing wise was this huge tshirt with the Doors on it. It was too expensive so I had to leave it on a hanger but dammit I had a plan. There was this perfect design in my tshirt book and oh sometimes it's painful to think about.

It's Audrey Hepburn week on Sky. I have watched so many films my eyes hurt. I got to utter the phrase Humphrey Bogart is speaking, why are you? which resulted in a lot of things thrown at me. I have learnt that My Fair Lady is just as bad as I supposed it to be and if you happen to fall in love with someone it will be fairly easy to find them again.

Also having shorn off five inches from the hem of a dress I can only imagine was purchased just in case somebody died I am now the owner of a little black dress. I'm quite in love with it.

I have no occasion to wear such a thing though.

She obliterated everything she kissed.

There's a charity shop down the street from work. I stop in there when I'm not too tired just in case there's something amazing lurking in the racks. Or second best: potential. There hasn't been much these past few weeks except a rather awesome hat that was too small. First time for that. Today I found an Audrey Hepburnesque little black dress and so I had to try it on. I mean it was almost compulsory. And there was potential. Bags of potential apart from the fact that the bust and the sleeves would have to be adjusted but I've been itching to start a new project that wasn't make another bag. But the work I'd have to do and the price didn't make for a bargain and besides when was I going to wear a Hepburn dress.

Thing is once I try something on and start fixing it up in my head I've made it mine. Putting it back on the hanger is like a pang. Some tiny little part of me is still there working out a way to make it work. So now I'm looking at old black dresses in the back of my wardrobe and spinning my scissors round my fingers. Somewhere in here is a gorgeous dress. I've just got to work out how to find it.

She died like she lived: in vain.

Julie came home sick this morning, disrupting my very lovely dream and forcing me out of bed at the ungodly hour of half past ten. I couldn't get pissed though because an hour later she was freaking out, Mum was freaking out and then I had to phone my dad so he could freak out too. I was told nothing as they drove down to the doctor and I comforted myself with the thought that at least her adrenalin was still with me so she wasn't like dying or anything. She came home, thought about throwing up some more and then danced down the stairs singing "Shake your booty" louder than I would have liked. She's watching Happy Feet now as I type happy but for the fact that she's not allowed online to talk to her Devart fans.

While she was tucked up safe in bed I dragged down my sewing bag from the attic and found a couple of dresses I haven't worn in years. Unfortunately I could only get them on if I lost my bust. Pictures may follow later of my new skirt, made primarily of a giant vest top I got for a pound in one of the many charity shops down on Main Street. Seriously there's more down there than is needed for one road.

In other news I have two new freckles! This may not seem like news but when I was wee all I wanted was freckles. Everybody I was friends with had them and wished they didn't and I had none. On the one hand I was instead crazy pale and when people asked if I was ill I would lie and pout and get sent home. I never intentionally lied you understand I just knew how to take advantage of a good situation. On the other hand, well all the pretty girls had freckles and boyfriends, such as they were in primary school at least. I was pale as death and had a boy who told me one day that I was his girlfriend if this other girl decided they weren't going out anymore. Seriously. And this was like primary one. Is there something about me that screams 'hey she'd be great if I weren't already with this better girl' because it's hilariously depressing.

Picture time since I finished faster than I though, mostly because I couldn't be bothered reinforcing the pocket. It's not a great pic cause my camera broke ages ago and all I have is my mobile but hey you get the general idea, right. The pocket's a tee of my dad's recycled and I have no idea what the cyrillic says so lets hope it ain't offensive.