My sewing machine and I have struggled to maintain a healthy relationship of late. I spent all that money with my first technician to still have problems with my free-motion quilting. Then, I bucked up and tackled sewing a simpler project. I thought we were on the mend. I ordered silver variegated thread from my local quilting store, waited a couple of weeks for it to arrive, and yesterday sat down at my sewing machine ready to try again.
If you read my sewing-machine drama post, you’ll know that my sewing machine and I have been more on the outs than on the ins. This is unfortunate for many a reason, not the least of which is, of course, that I like to sew. I spent awhile troubleshooting my machine in a bid to determine the problem.
My sewing machine has not been cooperative of late. In fact, the darn thing has been downright obstinate and temperamental. Its behavior has meant that it has done hard time both in the repair shop and in the closet while I actively ignore it whenever my friends come over for craft night. Nor am I alone in my technology woes. Every kind of technology inspires people to rage beyond every kind of reason as evidenced by the universal love for the scene in Office Space where the much maligned office printer is beaten to death to the gangsta tune of die, motherfu…, die. Now, I’m not quite ready to drive my sewing machine out to a remote field in Kansas and beat it with a baseball bat a la Office Space, but my machine definitely could start toeing the line a little more obediently or we may very well take that drive.
I have been meaning to make these pillow shams since I stitched together my very first quilt years ago. Years. As part of my happiness project, I’m rolling around to unfinished lingering projects and finally knocking them off that perennial to-do list. Although other happiness-project goals may be cast on the wayside more than I’d like to admit (like reading Latin and writing every morning for 30 minutes), I’m slowly and surely making progress on new and old crafting goals.
The window in my living room is of Giganotosaurus proportions. The same window is also the primary source of light in that living room. If the window weren’t needing of plus-sized window treatment before, let me just add that the window is likely as old as my house (Est. 1952). Last winter, my husband swore that he could feel a cold wind coming through the corner of the window. I didn’t doubt him, but I was still surprised by the strength of that draft when I first felt it.
When I purchased my my fox kit from Craftsy, the cutting instructions included a mistake that I diligently followed, assuming they hadn’t sent sufficient fabric. Unfortunately, I was mistaken, which I learned only after I had already cut out all my fabric for the quilt and was then sent new cutting instructions. After a flurry of emails, weeks of waiting, and another flurry of emails, I was sent another throw-sized fox kit. I did some math—rare, for a language nerd, I know—and realized that I had enough fabric leftover to also make a baby blanket and some other small project. I decided to make the quilt and two pillows to donate to my synagogue’s annual fund-raiser.
We are officially licensed foster parents, just awaiting the call where we ask a gazillion questions and a kiddo arrives at our house.