I bought a sewing machine. And a bunch of things to sew. In my head, my creations are beautiful masterpieces. Alas, that’s the only place they exist…
Once upon a time, when I was five, my mom taught me how to sew with just a good ole needle and thread. I made pillows and pillows and more pillows. It was fun and I remember the satisfaction of having created something all by myself.
Fast forward to today…
I had a few items in mind and pulled my shiny, new machine out of its box, along with a pretty piece of fabric and some heat bond cotton lining. Attaching the cotton to the fabric was easy enough – I can at least iron 😉
Then I sat down to figure out the machine. I realized immediately that thread was required. Oops. Duh. Quick-ish run to Michael’s.
Back to the machine. I bribed the 11 year old to watch the baby so I could “quickly” figure this out.
Ten thousand screw ups later and I sewed a crooked line! I was sooooo happy! Almost as happy as when I made a pillow 30 years ago.
I didn’t actually compete anything, but I semi figured out the machine without screaming and cursing and all that stuff I never do.
I even promised my eager-to-sew daughter how to use the machine once I learned first. Actually, she’d probably pick it up immediately!