First Cut

There's something vaguely irreverent about cutting up a piece of clothing.  The thrill of snipping into virgin denim for the first time (but Mom, jeans look nerdy without holes [as if this was the end of the world {it was}]) stands out in my mind at least as much as my first kiss.

So it goes with each garment that lands in my repurpose pile.  Rebellion, doubt, excitement, hope. The first of the new shirts is now a pile of fabric on my cutting board (or Li'i's lap, as the case may be).  Eep!