Sew many dreams, so little talent.

“Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.”
― Alexander Pope


Sewing machines hate me.

It's not that they don't enjoy my company... like the random person who happens to be somewhere in your social circle, but whom you try to avoid actually spending one on one time with, because you can never seem to figure out what to talk about.

No they hate me.

Harm themselves to get out of spending time with me

As in, if you walked into a restaurant and saw your worst enemy sitting next to your best friend, you would throw yourself onto the nearest open flame just to spend time in the burn unit instead of with this person.

At first I thought it was just my mother's machine.

I was convinced it was just old.  And needed my mother's years of experience to understand it's quirks.
 
The bobbin spits back out at me.

The thread snarls up.

Then I snarl up a bit.

 And eventually my mother just comes over and fixes what ever I just screwed up.

 Honestly, the last time I asked her opinion on how to sew something she just took it from me and did it herself.

Her exact words were "No it's faster if I just do it, if I let you touch it, you'll just screw it up"

It was said with love.  And it was the truth.

I decided last year, that now that I'm a real live grown up (with a baby of my own to prove my legit-ness in the grown-up department) it was time to buy my own sewing machine.  One that came out of the factory at least a decade or two after I came out of the womb.

 One that would work magically, would never tangle a thread, or pop a spool, or eat my shorts (or fabric intended to become shorts). It would make all of my crafty dreams come true.

Dreamer that I am, I'm also a skinflint, and could never justify spending $200 on something I didn't really need (because no matter how much I want to blame the machine, I know in my heart of hearts, I don't actually have any sewing skills).
 
 Then like the Fairy Godmother appeared to Cinderella. A beautiful Singer was dropped into my lap. Ready to make all of my sewing dreams come true.

 Well it was given to me... nobody actually dropped it on me. But for all the good I've done with it, maybe they should have just thrown it at my head and knocked some sense into me.

 I spent three months, on my last sewing project. It should have taken a normal person 2 hours.

Now please consider, that all sewing activities, no matter how much I may want to do them, have to come last on my list of priorities.

That list is not short these days.

First and foremost there is a cute little ball of energy that needs constant attention, feedings, diaper changes, and general guidance on the safety of climbing or chewing on anything he can get his hands on.

Then there is the dog... who as you may have noticed from previous posts, requires a fair bit of energy.

Add to that a business to run, a house to keep in some sort of order for fear someone call child services on me for only running my vacuum once a month, and on top of that, society actually expects me to keep up a certain level of personal hygiene.

 Somedays I accomplish most of these things. Others I'm surprised that my Stronger Half finds us all still alive when he comes home from work.

Sewing comes last. (um or maybe blogging comes last, if my lack of new posts haven't made that clear).

 But in the event that every other priority is either taken care of, or deemed reasonably non-life threatening to put off until tomorrow.... I haul out the machine and get cursing.

Tonight was one of those blessed nights.... I started a little project, and needed to sew eight simple lines to complete it. It was barely even worth dragging the machine out of the closet.

But like I said before.. fairy tale dreams of what I can do with this machine. I had come to the conclusion that all of my previous troubles were caused by dollar store materials.

My "out of the regular realm of sewing" type projects and my general lack of control when it comes to speed with a foot peda,l were also contenders in the "How the hell does she screw this up so much" mystery.

What ever the reason, I was willing to meet in the middle and take some of the responsibility for our past altercations. I needed to get on good terms with this machine, so we could go on to bring all of the magical fabric themed fantasies I have to life.

 So armed with Coats and Clark thread. Three different sets of three different name brand needles, and a project with out crazy material like PUL. I decided to rekindle our broken relationship.

 In response, the needle snapped clear off while I was threading the machine.

 Not even while sewing or using the presser foot... simply turning the wheel to pull up the bobbin thread caused this.

 That's the equivalent of a dog gnawing off his own foot when you  say you want to take it for a walk.

So tonight I give up. I will pack away my threads and bobbins and three packages of new brand-name needles, and dreams of being a professional seamstress for another day.  Tonight was a lesson, although I can't quite figure out which one it was.

"Don't quit your day job."

"Great expectations lead to great disappointment?"

Or, since I know I will forget the frustration of this evening, and like a herion addict returns to their dealer, I will haul the stupid machine out and try again someday.

"It is easier to forgive your enemy than your friend."

Now I get what hapened to those two front teeth....

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Three phrases that sum up Christmas are: Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men, and Batteries not Included. ~Author Unknown

It's that time of year again...time to stand in line for hours, scramble like mad on internet sites, and spend half of your life savings to buy that "must-have", "greatest gift of all", "what everybody wants" "it" toy of the season.

Soon to be followed with "recall season" where you find out that this years version of Tickle me Elmo is coated in lead paint, oozing cyanide out of it's ears, and has small radioactive pieces that resemble chewing gum when they inevitable fall off.

So in celebration of shoppers everywhere... I'd like to share with you a warning that came with a Krazy Carpet I once received as a Christmas gift.

Warning

Slide only in safe areas.

(Maybe in general they should just stick a warning on us at birth..we pop out and up pops a sign..."warning life can be dangerous, please don't do anything unsafe"...

This would I’m sure abolish all need for warnings on products in general).

Do not use in standing position.

(Mainly I’m sure because you’ll look like a fool halfway down the hill when you are still in a standing position, but upside down with your head buried three feet in the snow.

Even worse if you’re wearing a skirt..which you will notice is one warning they’ve left off the package)

On or near streets, roadways, driveways

(Don’t go anywhere were you may get into it with something bigger than you, a good general rule for life),

sidewalks, near trees or obstacles on steep slopes or in icy conditions.....

(so generally the only safe place to slide is on the stairs into the basement.

Until your mother finds out, then you must enjoy your sled from the floor of your bedroom, where you will be until the grounding is over)

Do not tow with any vehicle. This is not a tow-able device

(Of course not!! it’s certainly not sturdy enough to withstand the tow rope..but don’t worry once we get the duct tape and reinforce the handles.....)

Product will develop high speed under certain snow conditions

(like the conditions that allow you to tow sleds behind four-wheelers)

Product has no brakes or steering mechanism

(No sh#t Sherlock, it’s a long piece of plastic)

and excessive speed can cause loss of control and injury.

(Again another good general life rule..injury mostly to your bank account through the court and insurance systems, or your spinal fluid, depending on the type of speed)

The wearing of a safety helmet and protective goggles is strongly recommended.

(if you enjoy being the joke of the neighbourhood and want the crap beat out of you)

Always face forward.

(If you try to turn your face to your back you will only get a cramp, and realize you don’t like the look of your butt in those jeans)

Keep hands feet and head within the outer edges of the carpet while sliding.

(I’m glad they added that head part..because generally if something isn’t safe for me to put my hands or feet on, the first thing I wanna do is stick my neck out and put my face in danger..literally)

There was more, and I'm sorry that I never copied the entire warning.

(It took up half of the 3 foot carpet, and it was fine print.)

And although I originally wrote this years ago, it still puts me in good mood every time I read it, so that is why I share it with you here today.

Actually it kind of puts me in the mood to go find my dog, tie him to something plastic and make him tow me around the yard.

(Don't worry, I will, as always keep my head away from anything I wouldn't want to get my feet and hands near.)

People in glass houses, shouldn't throw cantelopes.

Learn all you can from the mistakes of others.  You won't have time to make them all yourself.  ~Alfred Sheinwold

This week my niece learnt a very important lesson.

Not to throw rocks.

She actually learnt it with the least amount of damage. There was no broken glass, no dented car, no bloodshed, chipped teeth, or trips to the emergency room.

She threw a rock across to road about two seconds before the school bus passed by. The family dog ran after it. My sister screamed bloody murder at the dog, and he did stop.

Then she continued to scream bloody murder at my niece.

(Okay as I write that I realize child services might start to take interest.. but you know what I mean).

My niece was quickly put in "time-out" to think about what just happened.

I think my sisters intention was to let her sit and imagine how horrible and guilty she would feel if she had of been the cause of the demise of the beloved family dog.

My niece is four. She didn't really grasp that concept.

Instead, for two minutes she sat and thought "oh, my Mommy is MAD at me... she did not want me to throw that rock, I wonder how long she'll be mad at me?? I wish she wasn't so mad at me.... what can I do to make her not mad"

So in her little four year old mind she devised a plan to fix things.

"But Mommy, I didn't throw the rock... Magnum did"

Second lesson of the day, don' t lie to your mother. Or at least don't always try to pin it on the dog.

This story (after the fact) was quite entertaining, (although I think traumatizing in general for my niece).

And it got me thinking about some lessons I learnt as a child without ever meaning to.

Nail Polish and Barbie Dolls don't mix.

I decided my Barbies would get in a car accident. And then need surgery. I used lipstick for the blood.

When that ran out, I used Covergirl Valentine Red #076 Nail Polish.

Looking back, perhaps this was the first sign of my resourcefulness as a make-up artist.

At the time my mother didn't quite see it as an act of a budding artist. I can still remember sitting on the kitchen counter, watching her try to scrub the polish off all the barbies, some of them loosing their eyes and their lips with the acetone.

Our one and only African American Barbie contracted Michael Jackson's skin bleaching disease.


Not all lessons have to be learnt from the destruction of property.I also learnt early on that Older brothers really are good for some things

One day I decided to follow my cat while she went exploring through the woods.

I chased her around the well, and over rocks, and finally up a tree, only to have my foot caught between two branches and get stuck.

As the malicious feline sat and watched me cry for awhile, then simply got up and trotted off as if to say "Ha, that's what you get for pestering"

(she was a cranky cat, this incident should have ended our friendship. But one lesson I've never learnt is when to let people out of my life who are only going to hurt me)

Hours later dusk was settling. (Or perhaps 20 or 30 minutes... the drama of it all kind of skews my memory... but in 5 year old time it was hours) My brother wandered through the woods and informed me that Mom was looking for me.

He probably could have left me there if he wanted to be as heartless as dear sweet Kitty. But his conscience couldn't escape my hyperventilating wails and he broke the other branches to help free me from my captivity.

And you aren't done learning lessons once you pass the age of innocence.

I learnt that Bus schedules aren't just decorations at the bus stops

No they actually mean something. And should you choose to take a bus, you should probably learn how to read them.

Figured that one out somewhere in England. I say "somewhere" because I honestly don't know where I was when I did figure that out.

I got on at my host parents bus stop... and just kept going. No one else from the Academy was on the bus, but I didn't really notice.

In fact I never really noticed anything until I realized we had gone into the country side, and back into another town, without ever passing anything that looked like the Steiner Training Academy.

It was 30 minutes before classes started. And it would be another 15 minutes back to where I started, and 15 minutes from there to the Academy.

So here, in this strange town, was where the bus decided to park for a 20 min break. It was also in this strange town that I vowed never to take a bus by myself again.

Trust me, it does no good to explain to your future employers how you can completely competent in every single way, except at understanding a simple bus schedule.

I refuse to talk about the reasons why You should always wear underwear when in a strange country. But trust me... I had not intended to learn that lesson that day either.

The one thing that does come from learning things the "unexpected way" is that they really stick with you.

I never played "ambulance" with my Barbies again. I've always appreciated my brother, and know I can count on him in an emergency.

And you can always pick me out in a foreign country...

I'm the tourist paying 10 times as much to take a cab instead of the bus, who has panty lines.

A Learning Curve

You can't teach and old dog new tricks, and you can't teach a young dog to stay home.

There are some things in life you may have been taught but you never actually learned.

Some things like walking, talking, looking both ways before you cross the street and even times tables are perpetually drilled into us until we can accomplish the task with an 80% success rate.

Other things are brought to our attention ... "Here's a skill that could be useful in life" and then left up to us if we ever really figure it out properly

I wish I had of actually learned how to iron from my mother... I still can't do it.. maybe that's because it's one of those things that comes with practice.

Since I'm not very good at it, and I don't like to buy new clothes, I'm not willing to sacrifice the ones that I have to practise until I'm good.

There for I am 26 years old and still bring my cotton blouses to my mother and ask her to iron them for me.

It was my dad who was always trying to teaching us weird random skills that I now wish I could actually do.

It may have been great parenting, or it may have just been boredom, but Dad taught us many things as kids.

He taught me how to play hockey, and golf, and that's why I am right handed but always hold my sticks lefty.

He also taught us all to walk on stilts once. He had every kid in the neighbourhood outfitted with two by fours with foot rests at varying lengths.

The older kids had to stand on back of the pick up truck in order to get on the stilts. Actually I'm amazed no one died... this was back in the day before they made you wear a helmet to brush you teeth or walk downstairs.

Being the youngest, my stilts were only about 4 inches off the ground. So I didn't really learn any circus credibility, but I think I can credit Dad to this day for the fact that I can walk two miles in 3 1/4 inch heals without flinching.

He also taught me a valuable rollerblading lesson. Don't go down a paved hill when there is only gravel at the bottom to stop you. That was a lesson he taught me by example. I didn't need to try it myself.

But the one skill that I think would be really useful these days was back when I was about 7 or 8 years old and he decided we should all learn to use a lasso.

This is a skill I actually practiced with a certain amount of dedication. (Mainly because at the time I still believed that a horse for my birthday was a real possibility. Being able to use a lasso, and looking good in a cowboy hat seemed to get me one step closer to this dream.)

But alas, having no real training, and only the tiniest concept of how a lasso actually works, eventually that skill was given up as well ( actually, I think that was when he moved us onto the stilts).

Every time my dog heads out the yard, and I stand there useless, screaming my head off, fifty feet of rope all around me, I have a tiny smidgen of remorse that I never mastered the art of slinging a perfect circle of rope around a moving object.

Class Dismissed

Sometimes you have to fight a battle more than once to win it.

And sometimes you have to be taught a lesson more than once to learn it.

Sometime you have to be beaten over the head with that lesson multiple times. And then when you finally think you've figured it out, life teaches you again, just for good measure.

There are things I've managed to learn the first time around. Well..... for the honest truth, at the moment I can't think of anything.

I can certainly think of some things that took me a few swings at bat to figure out.

"Don't date the guys who treat you like crap"...took a few times to see that one clearly.

"Lock you car doors only if you HAVE the keys"..... took a few more times to get that one through my head. As a bonus to this lesson I also learned "how to break in to a Ford Probe from any angle".

Which also leads me to "no running out of you apartment building without your keys". Again this has a second lesson attached called "be nice to you landlord so she'll let you back in".

Driving in excess of the posted limit, took me more than a few tickets. As well as a few dollars, some lessons are better taught through your wallet.

The lesson I was re- taught again this evening-"don't let the dog off leash and expect him to come back". I've been learning this lesson for a good six months here.

Sometimes, even as I reach my hand down to un-clip the leash a little voice in the back of my head tells me "This seems bad".

Yet I still do it.

Then I feel the exact same string of emotions.

Astonishment, first at the fact that he has run away, then at the fact that I didn't see it coming.

Annoyance, first at the dog for being stupid, then at myself for being the actual stupid one.

Remorse, this one only gets worse as I continue on to Panic and then Dread.

Both of these emotions can be magnified when you add in a good imagination of what could happen and how it will be all my stupid fault.

All of these are followed by Relief, when I finally have him back in my not so capable custody.

This last emotion somehow has that magical ability to wipe out your memory of every other emotion that has preceded it... that is until the next time I manage to call class to order.