I went to the fabric store yesterday.  It's been too long.  I frequent craft stores often enough that I know my way around, but fabric stores?  I haven't been to one of those in probably two years.  And I've never been without my mom.  I felt like a lost little kid.  All three sweet ladies working there watched me wander around (trying to appear as if I knew exactly what I was doing and was on the hunt for a very specific thing).  Really, I was wandering aimlessly through every aisle.  When they asked me how many yards I needed (the part I'd most been dreading), I admitted, "I don't know, my mom always does that part for me!"  I'm twenty-four.  I have got to get better about the measuring.  Whatever we're building, sewing or otherwise creating, I do the random abstract ideas and my mom always pulls out the measuring tape and pencil.  I'd really like it if whoever I marry wouldn't mind taking over that part of the creating too... but I figure I better not count on it.  Not to mention, in the meantime, I'm not sure I can always drag my mom along (such as this time).  I figured out about what I'd needed (with the woman's help) and added half a yard.  That's about how I tip too.  Numbers, I was always good with them in high school, but somewhere in college and my submersion in the written word, numerical digits became foreign and frightening to me.  It's really an unwarranted fear, I know.  And I'm trying to get over it.  I'm taking baby steps, such as filling in the actual number on the tip line rather than writing an arrow to the total.  If I do decide to go to grad school, I'm going to have to take the GRE, which includes some nice math in there.  It would probably be good for me to brush up on Algebra and Geometry regardless.  Who would guess I used to be smart.