Bear!

I made a bear.

Advice on Sewing

A bad photo, I know. I snapped it at a fabric store while waiting in line. I know, I know - it's dated, it's sexist blah, blah, blah-de-blah. BUT, in my experience, it really does make a difference to have niggling household matters taken care of before I dig into a creative project.

AND, when I am able to feel ready for the day (showered, presentable, teeths brushed), it's easier to lose myself in a project. Perhaps this is just my general paranoid over-preparedness and desire to be organized. Maybe another person would have their creative juices quashed irrevocably if they had to brush their hair first. I don't know. But I do like this advice. Except for the French chalk idea. That really isn't necessary unless your creative outlet is rock climbing.

Bunny

Like real bunnies, it's possible there will be multiples. But for now, quite happy the prototype came together in time to give to a friend's baby boy. The final bunny is a little wonkier than my rounder, perfectly-aligned-ears vision ("bowling pin" was one person's assessment of the final shape). However, I am finding the wonky aspects endearing. Pictures of the process:

Another friend was as giddy as I was about the tie. Really, it is the best part.

Weekend in mid-May

First farmer's market of the year. Morels and asparagus.

Blouse for my neighbor, Laura. Japanese print from Bolt, Portland, OR.

Courtesy of Lisa's garden. Rhubarb custard pie.

Some Projects Take Longer Than Others

In January 2006, a friend and I wandered into a fabric store in a small tourist town. At the back were bins of fabric quarters, most were reproductions of vintage prints. We spent over an hour looking through them, choosing our favorites, changing our minds, and choosing more favorites. Maybe squabbling now and then over who got that only of of that kind. Maybe.

When we left we both hefted large bags of fabric scraps. We looked at one another. "Does this mean we are quilters?" "Um, I think so." "Do you know how to quilt?" "No. Do you?" "No."

I had done a few small hand-quilting projects in high-school (yes, I was that kind of high-schooler). But cutting? Assembly? Batting? No, ma'am. Not a clue. So, I did what made the most sense. I procrastinated.

A year goes by. I get some initiative. I quickly discover anything beyond squares will make me a mad woman. Squares it is. Good enough for my great-grandmother, good enough for me. By October 2007 I am here:

The intention was a throw or twin size. But, not being one to measure in advance, I sewed enough four-squares for a full-size quilt. Okay. That's fine. It's just going to take a little longer to finish. It will be ready for the bed I'm given in my rest home.

In March 2009, to my great surprise, I am on my last quadrant of hand-quilting (and have convinced another friend to make her own):


July 2010, having faced down my terror of making binding and overcome a few miscalculations on that front, I launder and hang out to dry, just like a frontier woman would, the finished product:
By September 2010, the final touch:

Proud? Quite. Going to make another? Yes. Eventually.

Out To Dry

I've reached the halfway mark in my year of not buying clothing. The only thing I ache for is something I cannot purchase: a favorite cardigan, lost in my move. I sometimes stay up too late at night, Googling words that might reap a doppelganger of that which I loved: blue, wool, cable, cardigan. Sometimes I dream I'll find it in an empty box, or on the racks at a Goodwill, even see someone wearing it on the street. I've calculated how much money I'd give, how hard I'd plead. I may not be above conking them on the head and making off with it. This sweater and I had a love match.

But I digress.

Lest one think otherwise, not buying clothing doesn't stop one from consuming. I hope I am consuming less, but I may just be consuming differently. Moving makes you notice things that have become ratty: bedsheets, bath towels. And there are new spaces that ask for attention: blank walls, bare windows. Not being a budget-keeper, I have nothing to compare and contrast. (Shame, I know, I know.) However, there is no doubt that, without this self-imposed ban, I would have been purchasing wearable items in addition to the towels, sheets, art and curtains.

The pictures below could be considered a failure of my resolution. I was at an antique show a few weekends ago and saw this French Embroidered Cotton Lingerie, per the tag. Hand-embroidered, French seams, 1920's, --the lines, color, design that make me wish for a mass return to the gin-drenched Jazz Age. The fabric is immaculate. I doubt it was ever worn.

Would I have succumbed if it hadn't, wonder of wonders, happened to fit? Maybe not. Will I actually wear it? Maybe. The camisole could be great with jeans.... However, it could just hang in my sewing room and inspire me for future projects. I consider my resolution sound and unbroken. Cracked, perhaps, but not broken.



This last shot is gratuitous; I have a crush on my clothesline.

It's Curtains For You!

Actually, for me. My kitchen window needed a better solution. The plan was a muslin curtain with a simple border. Numerous mis-measurements gave me this instead:


Hooray for the few days when you can embrace your mistakes and be glad you made them.

Natural Conclusion

So that's how someone thought up a crochet hook:


Craftiness is everywhere if you look hard enough.
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