I’ve been racking my brain trying to think just what it was that sparked the flame, but somehow two months ago I decided that I could sew. Now, not to break my grandma’s heart – I have used a sewing machine yeeeaaaarrrrs ago for projects that we used to make together. But if I’m to be honest, I really just enjoyed keeping her company and pushing the odd line through.
After we first moved in, I broke out my Baba K’s sewing machine (a good olde Kenmore classic) that I inherited and was able to conjure up a single paneled drape for our bathroom. I suppose you could say I was a bit subborn with the process, in that I spent an entire day in front of the machine determined to figure out how to spool the thread without looking it up only for my dad to come over and move the switch over!
Around Christmas, I decided (thanks to Angie (see her awesome blog hashtag random) and the other DIY bloggers I read) that I would hop back on the horse and give it another go. I enrolled in a sewing class and made W a wonderful pair of pajama bottoms that took me weeks but he seems to love.
So when I decided one weekend in March that I was going to make not one, not two but a touque, three tops, one maxi skirt and alter an old pair of jeans while W was away everyone (including good olde Kenny) was in disbelief. As luck would have it they all turned out (except a fourth top that will never be mentioned…).
Since then, I still make beginner level mistakes, so much so that it’s just a part of the process that I always get a laugh out of, especially since I don’t know how half of them even happened.