You might not think so, but kids are bound to pick-up on some things. Growing up in a traditional household, my mom was always into sewing. She would make us a shirt from the fabric of our choosing each school year. In first and second grade, it was a fabric that had a gold or silver thread in it. When I was in third grade, I had a shirt with a Millennium Falcon embroidered on the back. Unfortunately, the work took so long to do I outgrew it before I could wear it, so my brother got it. It did win a blue ribbon at the county fair.
I suppose that it is probably still true, but back in those days winning at the county fair also came with a cash prize. It was $3 for first, $2 for second and $1 for third. When I won two first place prizes for my rabbits, I thought I was rich. That is a little back stage baseball on our kind of life.
There was always a sewing place in our home. I was too young to remember before the utility room was converted in my first house but there was a dedicated sewing room in my second house. As we got older and busier, the sewing projects got farther and fewer in between for my mom. Hemming pants gave way to occasional mending and patches on our Boy Scout uniforms.
As kids do, sometimes we held onto those patches a little too long and needed them sewn immediately. In those cases, we had to do the work ourselves. No problem, I talked earlier about taking home economics in middle school and sewing our own bags. I thought nothing of it.
In this stage in our lives, I occasionally find that my wife has a few friends over on the weekend for a taste of normalcy. Given the impromptu timing and lack of planning, I often find myself heading to the basement to tidy up and stay out of the way but close enough to be nearby. It should be no surprise that I have a a myriad of things going on generating the clutter. As a result, I turn on some music and get to work. In these days of lack of control, having organization over my domain makes me happy.
One of the things that I had on my to do list was mend my son’s insulated pants. I had to of course tidy up the space around in order to have enough room to work. I was feeling in a darker mood that night. My music started with System of a Down and worked toward Metallica. Then I decided to crack a beer. When I was all done I was looking at the aftermath and I couldn’t help myself. I could never see my Grandma drinking a beer and listening to Metallica while sewing.
I have kind of had that moment that I had when I was in college. I needed tools to work on the car but I had nothing, including money. Dad always had everything that I needed. The same is true about sewing. It was always around and available, all the tools and supplies. I never imagined that I would be shopping for replacement needles and thread and other supplies. But, now it seems like I need to stock up in this area too.
Truth be told, my work is hack job level. I broke several needles and I had to watch a video on how to load a bobbin. It would win no ribbons at the county fair but it got the job done. I need to spend more time with the machine to figure out how the different stitching modes work and the different nuances. It is just like anything else, it takes practice to get good at something.
End Your Programming Routine: When I rescued the sewing machine from the giveaway pile at my in-laws estate, I only saw the utility of it. That is still my primary motivation. But, I wont lie that I enjoyed my time fiddling around trying to figure it out how to use it. I would like to get to the point that I could sit down and not have to watch videos to get started. I would also like to get to the point that I hope nobody notices how it was done. Like I said, hack level work.
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