Zipper phobia and a mystery flower

On Face Your Fear Friday, I did. I am knitting my first pair of non-Fuzzy Feet socks and wanted a bag in which to tote my progress. I'm just a little tired of shapeless, drawstring bags and had seen a box bag like this one that I thought would be ideal. I would buy one, but...um, no can do with the House-of-DIY-to-sell still hanging over my head.

Then I saw Drago[knit]fly's tutorial on Box Bags. Oh joy!

Oh. Crap. A zipper.

I've never sewn a zipper before. They're so mysterious to me, gliding open or closed like the parting of the Red Sea, and nestled into their garment like they'd evolved there. I've only seen the likes of Nancy Zieman or Sandra Betzina (sewing goddesses) accomplish marvels with a zipper foot. No one in Real Life. Ignorance is not bliss, my friends. Barely capable of creating button holes, I have been stuck in an Antebellum lack of continuous closures for hand made clothing and sundry accessories.

Poor me.

Oh well. Mine is just a multi-hundred dollar sewing machine, right? So what if I break it on a zipper tooth in my pursuit of learning new skills. Like breaking machines. I gotta have me a new bag.

So Friday I made this:





I had to rip out the zipper only once, and I never broke a needle. I was so happy with myself I was on the verge of smugdom.
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But then we began clearing out my Dad's garage on Saturday. Ugh. It took five hours to plow through the first third of the "neat stuff." We even sorted items into the Mission Organization categories of KEEP, TOSS, and GIVE AWAY. We're keeping considerably less than we're tossing or giving away.

But I'm not sure it made the task easier. I had a minor meltdown going through all the wires, metal bits, and automotive leftovers I didn't understand. I felt guilty about my ignorance and the unshakable certainty that I'm getting rid of something he would have told me is super important and valuable. But, what can I do? The task needs to be done and I can no longer wait for others in-the-know to find time to mill about the garage and finger grimy do-daws they just set down again after they murmur "interesting". This tells me nothing.

(Actually, my conscience is stricken here because no one has really been so callous. There are several who have milled about the garage and given labels to things, filling in my spotty grease monkey education. For that, I am unbelievably grateful. In spite of this help, however, much remains "interesting" but Unknown. And I don't have time anymore to elicit more help.)

So, much of the "interesting" stuff is getting hauled off one way or another. To the dump, DAV (second hand shop), or scrap yard. And if I hear something like, "Oh, I can't believe you got rid of that!" after it's all said and done, I swear I'm a-gonna... I'd say bite his head off, but my dentist tells me I actually have a small mouth. At that I had to laugh. Is that not a hoot?

Anyway, during the long and winding road that was yesterday afternoon, I was made to smile several times in spite of my blue funk when I caught a whiff of the blooming hyacinths.





They're right next to the garage, and they're adorable. They're just a couple clumps of them, but the fragrance is nearly intoxicating.

On the other side of the front walk, next to the driveway, is a meager little sprouting of tiny blue flowers.



Does anyone know what they are? You can click on the photo to go to a larger version of it. Each bloom is probably no bigger around than the end of a pencil eraser.

Here's the deal. If you are the first person to accurately name this itty bitty ground cover, there's something in it for you. (This opportunity is your reward for making it to the end of this vainglorious entry.) I don't know yet what that "something" is. But, leave a comment with your answer and please include whether you are a quilter or knitter. And, if you're a knitter, whether you use predominately needles or a loom. Oh, and I have to be able to contact you in return. So, please be sure I can track you back through your blog or include your email address in the comment form.

Who knows what I'll send. Maybe something with a gratuitous zipper.