I've spent the last two days making a dress for my ex-mother-in-law. Because of some fitting issues and specific colour requirements, she couldn't find a dress to wear to her youngest daughter's wedding at the end of May. So when I was in Utah in March, she gave me her favorite dress (so I could copy it) and the fabric for the new dress and I brought them back to Canada with me.
They have been put aside until this week when the kids are out of school. My kids can help me with the kids I tend during the day so I can get some sewing time in. So I have no pattern other than the old dress and both the old dress and the new fabric are rather slippery. It has made for an interesting and frustrating project, but once I hem it tomorrow, I'll be done and I can get it into the mail. Then I just cross my fingers and pray it will fit her perfectly and she'll love it.
Even though I've tried, I can't think of any way to relate the experience to writing. I haven't had much time to work on my own projects. I guess I was too focused on the task at hand but once it's on its way to Utah, I can concentrate again on my own work. There are just times when the writing has to get put aside because life gets in the way, but without the experiences life offers us, what would we write about anyway?