On Saturday, Annabelle and I finally snuck away for our long-awaited trip to SAS Fabrics. The logistics were tough — this just isn’t a place for Sophie, not unless you want to give me some meth to snort first. Otherwise she’d be off like a flash, lost amidst piles of probably-not-too-clean remnants. Everything’s at Sophie height, at SAS, from buttons to patches to pokey stuff with pins on the back and sharp edges on the front (those rhinestones can be murder). I had visions of losing her in a heap of tulle.

So we waited til Sophie took a rare afternoon nap and called goodbye to Ray as we were out the door.

For $28, we had a wee of a time, as my mother would put it. I got some random stuff I’ll never use: silver lame-esque rick rack, pieces of fabric with vintage Snoopy designs, iron on patches shaped like those cute Russian dolls that were “in” last year. (What I’ll do with them I haven’t a clue, since I already know I can’t manage to get Annabelle’s Brownie patches to stick.)

But Annabelle’s purchases were the main event. She got a wad of fabric squares for 25 cents each, rhinestone appliques for $2.99, rolls of lace (65 cents) , tiny flowers (50 cents) and a hunk of the palest pink satin (99 cents a yard).

I chucked the blue plastic bag in the bigger bag we were hauling over to my mother in law’s yesterday, and figured eventually, something would come home. At first, Annabelle said she was planning to make a dress for a friend. But when I got home last night, she was wearing the creation herself: A satin floor-length gown, sleeveless, with lace trim and flowers. It went nicely with the Halloween tattoo on her bicep and her mouthful of missing, growing-in and wiggly teeth. And her enormous smile. (This morning I found her original pencil designs and some photos the fashion photographer — Grandpa — took on the back patio.)

“She designed it herself!” Ray announced, as Annabelle twirled and bowed.

A designer (with a wonderful assistant) is born.

I was glad we weren’t home, because Ray might have wanted the girls to watch, and I just can’t let them make Sarah Palin any sort of role model. Heck, I’d rather they watch Kenley, the bad whiny girl on Project Runway.

Literally.

OK, I am a horrible mom. I let Annabelle stay up til 10 on Wednesday, to see the end of Project Runway. Hey, it was down to four designers. It was a big week. Truth be told, if you’d made me pick one, I would have skipped the debate for the runway, no prob.

I love that Annabelle loves Project Runway, and not just because it gives me a reason to watch something other than childrens TV. (I actually don’t mind kiddie shows much; they drive Ray nuts but I think they make nice background noise.) But Annabelle, like (I’m guessing) millions of other little kids (and some big ones — Trish swears that 15 year old Zach is among them) are now planning careers as fashion designers.

And what’s wrong with that? I love that she wants to create. After the show ended Wednesday (I won’t spoil it for you if you haven’t seen this week’s yet) Annabelle announced that she was going to design her own evening dress. It will be sleeveless and orange with a big flower in the middle and it will go down to THERE, she said, pointing past her ankle. She intends to pair it with orange boots, which she also plans to design herself.

“You go girl,” I thought. “And thank goodness you’re gong to Grandma’s on Monday!”

I seriously have trouble sewing on a button, a lack of skill I inherited directly from my mother (GAGA). But my mother in law, now she can sew. She’ll laugh when she reads that, but I am in awe of her abilities — she can even operate a sewing machine. We met up for bagels last weekend (pic to follow) and the girls got silly with her, but I have a feeling that Monday Annabelle will arrive to spend the first day of Fall Break with Grandma, and she’s going to be carrying a bag of materials.

We’re planning a trip to SAS fabrics this weekend. I can’t wait. After the debate last night, no one quite knew what to say: Palin did just well enough to escape the full-on wrath of the crowd, which frankly pissed most of us off. So we talked about other things, like Project Runway. And trips to SAS. One friend with grown kids fondly remembered trips to SAS (it’s a dump of a small warehouse packed with fabric remnants and accoutrements — sequins, feather boas, patches, ribbons, I’m getting excited just writing this) as a young, poor mom. For five bucks, she recalls, you could occupy the kids for days.

Not bad advice in this economy. Google SAS fabric. There are several in the Phoenix area; I’m not sure how far the chain extends.

All I know is that Grandma better have her equipment out on Monday!