So I Smiled at My Brother, and He Smiled Back

  So, the other day I took a break from crocheting and cleaned the kitchen did a few other things. I started by sitting at the sewing machine. I almost stood right back up and walked away. I have a love/hate relationship with those things. I love the idea of all the wonderful things that can be done with a sewing machine, but I just don't have the patience to deal with the mechanics of it all - the bobbins, the threading, the breaking, the fixing, etc. I've had some recent bad experiences with sewing machines you see.

 

About 3 or 4 years ago I bought a nice little Kenmore machine. I spent more money than I wanted but this one got good reviews, seemed to have all the nice little bells and whistles without having too many of them and I needed a new machine. But after using it several times, something inside the bobbin casing/area broke. I took it in for repairs and after an obscene amount of money exchanged hands - half what I paid for the thing, it was fixed. I used it maybe twice more and it broke again. So, I said "Screw it!" and did no sewing for a year or so.

And the mending piled up and up and up. And I stuffed it into the closet. And sometime someone would say, "where is that shirt I needed sewn?" or "Where are those pants that were too long?" And I would just shrug and pretent I had no idea. Occasionally I would pull something out and sew it with a needle and thread but really, who has time for that?

So then, one day a few months ago I was walking through Walmart and saw this Brother sewing machine in the aisle advertised for $40. I glared at it for a bit and it just smiled back blandly. I circle around it, pretending not to look, but keeping a close eye with my peripheral vision, watching and waiting for it to give me the finger, or lunge, or smirk at me.

But it didn't. It continued to sit with a small pleasant smile, laid back and comfortable. So I turned my back on it, then whirled back quick trying to catch it in some dastardly act. But no, it remained calm
and pleasant.

So I approached cautiously and laid my hands on it's back. It actually arched it's back happily and purred! When it rubbed it's bobbin on me I was hooked. I figured for $40, if it broke, I could throw it out, vow off sewing forever and not feel like I was screwed over too badly (unlike the Kenmore debacle).

So I bought it, brought it home and left it in the box for a couple of months. It never once complained.

One day I took it out, threaded it up and let Sweet Pea give it a go. Everything worked swimmingly.
And then, just the other day I got up the nerve to give it a whirl. It took me about 20 minutes to find the manual and get it threaded up, but after that it was smooth sailing. I had a denim skirt that was floor length that just looked ridiculous every time I put it on, so I chopped off six inches and sewed up a hem. So far so good.

I have no plans on making anything complicated any time soon, but as long as the darn thing doesn't break and lets me sew up simple seams once in a while, I'll be happy.

And I smiled at my Brother, and he smiled back and winked. I think we may get along fine.
Quack!

This Dolphin Says WHUMP!

Snickers won a huge plush dolphin at the fair this year. It was one of those games where someone wins everytime and it was Snickers, Doodlebug, Sweet Pea and I playing. So the odds were pretty good that one of us would walk away with a prize. And sure enough - Snickers won! He chose a huge golden yellow dolphin that is about 3 feet long. He was ecstatic! It was stuffed with tiny little styrofoam balls so it was nice and light and made a soft shushing/hissing noise when you shifted it. He actually carried it around the fair all by himself for quite a while before I ended up with it.

But, as we discovered, that Styrofoam was dusty. Little clouds of Styrofoam dust ploofed out regularly. So much so that Snickers decided he wouldn't sleep with it for fear of suffocating on the dust in his sleep. So, it had a place of honor on top of his book shelves. But he really liked the thing and wanted to sleep with it so I told him I would replace its guts with some other stuffing that was less likely to kill him in his sleep.

He was a little worried but I reassured him - a single small incision and a little bit of time and Dolphin would be back up and swimming in no time.

So I set to work. I opened up the seam in Dolphin's tail and poured and squeezed and squished and dumped out about 17 cubic yards of Styrofoam balls. And of course, as is the way with tiny Styrofoam balls, and as is the way with me and my lack of aversion to making a mess, the operating room was covered in a half inch of Styrofoam balls that somehow missed the garbage bag. Now, we're not talking a nice even 1/2 inch layer across the floor. We're talking a layer on the floor, and on the chair, and on the table, and stuck to the front of the cabinet, and covering every inch of my legs from the knee down and static clinging from the tip of my little finger up to my armpits. Every nook and cranny within 3 yards of the surgery site had anywhere from a few little Styrofoam balls to a thick coating.

It was a mess!

It was disgusting!

It was glorious!

Like a warm snowstorm localized around me and the Dolphin. It was all I could do not to throw handfuls up in the air and twirl around, eyes closed and tongue out. But I had to draw the line somewhere.

So, after cleaning up the mess, vacuuming the floor, my pants, my shirt, the cabinets, the bookcase, the computer and the cat I then decided to shake out the Dolphin for good measure to make sure I got it all. Then, after once again  vacuuming the floor, my pants, my shirt, the cabinets, the bookcase, the computer and the cat I got out a bag of polyester fiber stuffing.

I stuffed and I stuffed and I stuffed. I stuffed approximately 20 pounds of stuffing into that thing.

Remember that nice shushing, hissing noise I mentioned? Yeah, that's gone. Gone into the huge garbage bag. Gone into the guts of the vaccuum cleaner. Now this Dolphin says WHUMP! It's quite an impressive sound!

I carefully sewed up the tail and Snickers was delighted with the change. If only he could lift the darn thing! But with perseverence he managed to wrangle it into his bed.

And while it's an improvement and he no longer fears suffocating on the Styrofoam dust in his sleep, he now has a new fear. He fears being crushed to death under the weight of the thing should it fall onto him in the middle of the night. Not to mention the forhead bruises and elbow contusions from accidentally bumping into the thing in the night.

I promised him I would perform a followup surgery - a liposuction - to remove some of the excess fat. Hopefully when all is said and done it will be 10 pounds lighter, soft and snuggly and no danger to anyone. Only time will tell.

Quack!

Cat Knees

  Over a year ago I posted about how Doodlebug prefers his knee patches to be kitten-shaped, rather than plain circles or squares. Well, that still holds true today. Maybe by the time he's 17 he'll want something a little more subtle. Here are some of the latest:

Yes, some of those are covering some rather large rips in the knees. He's very rough on his pants!

Quack!

Look at that Strange Woman with the Huge Furry Purse

This weekend I whipped up a case for my dulcimer. I pulled out my sewing machine and just sat down and made one.

Wow! Just typing that makes me sound like some kind of seamstress goddess. "I just pulled out my sewing machine and made a [insert wonderful sewn item here]."

But really, it's nothing like that. I enjoy making things (out of paper, beads, glue, wire, pencil and paint, words, cake, dough, batter. . . ) I also love little hand sewn things like the things made here, here, here and here. I'd love to be able to make these kinds of things. But I also know that I have limits. Sewing is not something I generally enjoy. I can hem pants (with much swearing and finger pricking). I can sew on a button (again, with much swearing and finger pricking). And I recently discovered the wonder of iron-on patches for the knees of little boys (and little girls, but especially little boys) pants. What an incredible invention those are! No needle and thread required! And they can be cut into shapes that little boys approve of. (Doodlebug will NOT wear a plain circle or square patch thank you very much!)

At one point I even managed to make an adorable little lady-bug costume for Sweet Pea when she was a baby and it came out beautiful. I also managed to make a damn nice Rennaisance Faire outfit for myself complete with a blouse, skirt, over-dress with ribbons and boning and big loose sleeves. It really came out nice and I always get compliments on it from complete strangers. But something happened in the 7 or 8 years since I've done that. It may be that I just don't have the time for it any more. It takes patience, which I usually have a lot of, but when it comes to sewing it somehow disappears. It also takes time, which is somewhat at a premium right now. And it takes planning - finding or making patterns and picking out coordinating fabrics and isn't something that you can just do on a whim.

But for some crazy reason, I decided to make a case for my dulcimer. With fabric. And a sewing machine. I wasn't able to find a case online that was reasonably priced and that I was sure would fit my instrument (dulcimers come in a lot of different shapes and sizes). So I pulled out my fabric box.

Now, for someone who professes to not like sewing, I have a lot of fabric. A huge Rubbermaid tote full. (I like the idea of sewing, it's just that the actual act of sewing doesn't often live up to the image in my head.)

I pulled out a nice heavy, woven, cotton print in a light turquoise and cream pattern. I traced my dulcimer and cut out some pieces of fabric in the right size. Then I went back to the box searching for a suitable lining. Something that wouldn't clash with the turqoise (red and blue plaid flannel anyone?). In the box was a large piece of fur; something I purchased years ago with the intention of making something cute and fuzzy for Sweet Pea. My husband joked that it would make an excellent dulcimer cover.

And voila! It practically made itself.

There are definite issues with it. If I did it again, there is one major thing I would fix as well as several other minor things, but hey, with all that fur, no one will notice a crooked seam, or a misplaced stitch. They will be all, look at that strange woman with the huge furry purse. What is she doing? Did she really leave the house with that thing? Doesn't she own a mirror?

And I'll be all oblivious as I strut down the street, proudly displaying my homemade (really?) fuzzy dulcimer case.

Yes, it's rediculous. That's what makes it so much fun!


Quack!