Sewing, for me, is quite a long involved process, pulling my sewing machine table and my equipment boxes and my project box out of the closet, setting everything up, hunting down that comfortable chair, fending off two cats, and the family … and all those other interruptions. Then afterwards packing it all up and putting it all away again.
Then my daughter moved out and I had that extra room, and I could shut the door and spread out – way way out – it was a heavenly room – even without much furniture!
Then four months later she moved back. Back into the closet I went. I had been spoiled rotten! (But it is so lovely to have you back again, Darling!)
So the other day I decided to cut out a couple of my favourite shirt patterns. I think I showed them to you already, but here they are again…..
I thought if I cut out a few things in advance – assembly line style – they would be ready for me to just sit down and sew a bit here and there when I got home from work (still unpacking my sewing stuff and packing it all up every time). I must confess, I do dislike the “cutting out” phase of sewing. (Am I the only one?). I wish they would invent a serger that would take a metre of fabric and cut out your shirt pattern as it sews! Are you listening Singer? Janome? Pfaff? Anyone?
So I clear off the kitchen table – “Go eat your dinner on this tray in the TV room”, I say – and spread out my fabrics and patterns. All goes well, I think. I am measuring, placing pattern pieces, checking grain lines, and cutting, the whole while listening to my Other Half talking to me as he gets his dinner on his tray. “Politics, the economy, blah, blah, politics, the economy, power tools, blah blah”. Then I notice I am cutting on the size 22 line – I am not a 22, maybe a 14, maybe a 16, …not a 22.
@&$:)(&&/@@/:::$& – “Out! That’s it! Everyone out!”
To make a long story short, after my temper tantrum I had three shirts cut out. But I am not sure what size the beautiful beige fabric is going to be – too small or too large? I think Dolly is going to come in very handy in my salvage operations of that beautiful material. That’s okay, she is up for the challenge!
My Mom always told me that I was very lucky to have a man who talks. I guess Dad is the “strong, silent type” . Hmmmm…. Love you dearly, My Other Half!