Note to 18th century self: you'd make a shitty bride. You carry no dowry, you can't carry a tune, and you can't sew worth a lick.
I haven't blogged since Sunday for many reasons, but mostly because I have gotten crafty. Sadly, I don't mean Fantastic Mr. Fox crafty; I mean hunkering down and trying to make crap myself crafty.
Project #1: Fix pillows. Annoyingly, I ordered custom pillows when we moved here (Aug 2007?) and they took 6 months to make (economy was better then, EVERYONE had custom pillows). Not long after I got them, the seams split. I mended them. They split again. (See memo to antique self). I finally got tired of stuffing the stuffing back in and repaired them. They're SO FLUFFY now. Check.
Project #2: Recover box valances for guest bedroom and S's room. Since I painted and redid these rooms, I thought I'd pick a more unifying fabric for the valances. Besides, S was not going to abide Lightning McQueen much longer. I found great (CHEAP!) fabrics. Unfortunately, I got a stripe for his. Do you have any idea how freaking hard it is to work with stripes? Grrr. The downstairs got a big floral with a cute trim. It's SO FLUFFY! S's went up easily with M's help and we got super cute black roller shades, that cost marginally less than the arm and the leg required for roman shades. His room turned out super. Downstairs will require husband help this weekend. It's almost transformed, that effing bedroom, from usable bedroom to flood zone to storage hellhole, to usable bedroom again. Sheesh. Check.
Project #3: cute tailored tablecloth to cover world's ugliest table. My Columbia friends might recall WUT. It was in in the living room, had a marble-ized top, and 3 fugly goldfish-tattoo-y looking things on the base. I chose a neutral burlap fabric for some texture and started out on my quest to hide the WUT.
For those of you who (wisely) do not craft or sew, here are some lessons learned.
1. Who the hell managed to invent the sewing machine like a hundred years ago? (Actually, prior to that, per Wikipedia. Howe patented his in 1845, and since he's American and that's all that really matters, I'll go with him.) Seriously? It's so freaking complicated, I can barely thread it and run it. In fact, sometimes I can't do that. Bobbin? What kind of sadistic accessory is this? It tangles, unwinds, frays, jams, and just when you think you're sewing, the mother is out of thread.
2. Sewing is tedious, detail oriented business, best reserved for people with patience.
3. Sewing requires math skills. I lack math skills.
4. A seam ripper should be purchased at the same time as any sewing machine purchase. Expected ratio is 3 rips for each seam sewed. But, as you can see from #3, that estimate might be off.
So, one day this week, 21st century me and 21st century friend, MT met for some decidedly mid-20th century activity. She brought her sewing machine, I dragged out mine, and we parked them at opposite ends of my kitchen table. She sewed on Brownie patches for her troop. I wrangled with the effing burlap. MT is incredibly neat, well-organized and patient.
I am not.
I was cursing and sweating, and MT, with the exception of slight frustration of her clear thread, had her machine humming along smoothly. I mean the woman bought CLEAR THREAD, for pete's sake. That way, she wouldn't have to change thread for each patch. Hello? They're Brownies. Use brown thread. Their den leader isn't Martha Stewart is she? Are 8 year-olds going to notice? Care? But, no. MT struggled through her frustration and had 6 or 7 neat little vests with perfectly stitched and tidily arranged little patches on them. Fittingly, all the patches represented all the crafty little skills her daughter's troop had mastered.
I wrangled with the effing burlap. I was not a Brownie.
We ordered pizza and ate and visited. MT ironed her little vests, and for a moment, I swear I was hallucinating in black and white
Annoying. I mean, I am sewing, and ripping and sewing and ripping, and cursing and sweating. And MT is sewing on patches like June Cleaver. Dammit. I nearly broke down and ordered online:
But, I thought, if a 12 year old in Malaysia can make this for $194, then I can make it for $3 a yard. As it turns out, the 12 year old Malaysian would make a hell of a 17th century wife.Today, two days later, and lots of cursing and starting over, I finished. I'm not photographing mine. It'll have to sit right under this professional photo, and I won't subject myself to feelings of inadequacy and failure. To sum up, I approximated the results for $12 and 16 hours of my time.
MT, I salute you. You make a rockin' wife in any century. Me?
And can't sew a lick.
No comments:
Post a Comment