Scrappy

My friend Lexie got a sewing machine and outed herself today as a fabric junkie. I suggest she enter a 12-step program. Step One: I''ll take that offending substance off her hands.

.

My sister (Whose blog is not public. Gah. What kind of sister of mine is not all about the attention?!) joined me earlier this year in retreating for a weekend of quilty goodness. She, too, is a burgeoning fabric addict on a slippery slope. But don't think I'm a pusher.

.

My friend Katie, also, she sews a mean streak. She sews dresses from pillowcases and slipcovers from remnants and probably was the inspiration behind a little book called StitchAholic. Her first step, I'm thinking, should be to hand over the stash to one who can watch over it for her. I mean, I'm prepared to help.

.

Today I sewed nonstop at my dining room table. I sewed through Sarah writing a riddle about Gandhi (who, it turns out, was quite riddle-worthy). I sewed through Madeleine applying for a patent (no kidding) for an invention that may or may not be revealed here later. (When she decides whether she trusts you, dear readers.)

.

I sewed through making umpteen cups of "cold cocoa" (known as "chocolate milk" unless you're a particularly particular child of mine) for Laura and through just as many sessions of nursing Salvador.

.

I sewed while Gracie spent her last day as a 6-year-old just as Gidgety as ever, never once glancing at the plainly visible increasing stack of finished items. Oh, to be that happy-go-lucky. Grace is a butterfly of a girl, you see, alighting on a flower here, a sunny spot there, gently unfolding her wings in the most springlike manner. Any other of my children would have had twenty questions, no fewer, for me, about the pile of bright floral and gingham fabrics. Any other of my children would have started asking me to sew something specific. Not Grace. Grace Hannah collects happinesses like I collect pretty bits of floral fabric. She just does. She can't help it.

.

Just last night, to give you an example of Grace's way of walking through the world, this same child burst into my bedroom at well past midnight. A headlamp blinded me as she excitedly bounced up and down on my side of the bed, waving two books in and out of the glow.

.

"I finished these, Mom! Do you want me to read them to you?"

.

"I want you to know what happens!"

.

There is something undeniable about Grace. She is enthusiastic; she's single-minded until she's inevitably distracted; she's effervescent. It didn't occur to her last night that she busted herself for reading well past "lights out" just as it didn't occur to her today that I might be sewing her birthday gifts in plain sight. She's just so full of joy, that girl. She's good medicine in a world that doesn't seem fluttery nor innocent right this minute.

.

What did I sew, you ask?

.

I slashed through a lot of my own personal stash creating a wardrobe for Grace's as-yet-unmet dream doll: Samantha, a beauty of an American Girl that my mom bought for our gorgeous middlest's seventh birthday. Samantha now has one period (1904-ish) outfit, three skirt-and-sweater sets and a pair of pajamas. Grace also has a lookalike skirt set so she and Samantha can dress in matchy-match glory tomorrow.

.

And now I feel as giddy as Grace! I can't wait to wake up in the morning and see her open her gifts! I couldn't be more pleased to bust through fabric than for this reason. It was a delicious day of sewing and school and reflecting on Grace's sparkly seven-year life.

.

Plus I made some room for more fabric. Isn't that the way it works?

Quilt top at ninety percent

I didn't finish the top... it still needs borders... but all the piecing is done and considering that I stopped to nurse the baby approximately four thousand times I am pleased with the progress.

Even more pleased with the sense of camaraderie and friendship I have come to know and love at this annual retreat.

RETREAT! Retreat. Retreat.

Retreat. Now there's a word that loses its meaning quickly upon repeat.

This weekend I am blessed to be among friends and fellow fabric hoarders at a once-yearly mystery quilting bonanza. I have chosen my fourteen (so not a typo) fabrics at the store and from my vast stash. I have wiped down various coffee spills from my sewing machine cover and I have assembled my seam ripper, that most important of portable quilting paraphernalia, and other ephemera necessary for cutting little bits of cloth and re-assembling them into something near art.

I am likely visiting quietly over and under and around the hum of a dozen sewing machines. At my table are moms and grandmoms and young career women and starving artists. We all have some things in common and it is not necessarily what you might think. Our color sense and our politics vary immensely. Our ages range from 25 to 80.

Our commonality, then? We are retreating. We are purposing, if you will allow that dubious verb, to give ourselves a weekend of beauty and productivity. We are breathing in and out and it is a meditation, this endless stitching while barely remembering to sip at a cup of tea.

In my preparations for the retreat I found myself frantic. Go figure. Instructions for the baby. Meal planning and preparation for the family. Last-minute laundering, mopping, swishing and swiping in (vain?) hope of returning to somewhere to sit, somewhere to lay my sewing machine down.

I even emailed my husband to say that the getting ready phase could be crazy, because I knew I'd be relaxed at some certain point. When we leave on vacation I'm usually similarly frantic with the packing and the pressure until we are seated, mocha in one hand and novel in another. Then comes the whoosh of relaxation, of ease. Nothing to be done! It's already done! I am without duties!

Not really sure where I'm going here? ME neither. It's just that, when I was getting ready for the quilting retreat, I kept hearing that Civil War movie cry of "RETREAT" in my head. There was a general chaos and sense of near-danger in the urgency of the moment. And yet now? I'm retreated. I'm out of the battle zone (yikes... not that my home is that!) and in another kind of zone.

Hope to show you some quilt squares, maybe a finished top, when I return. And I hope your weekend is restful. I hope you experience your own retreat, without, possibly, the frantic trampling out.

In which the manic nesting continues

It dawned on me, quite literally at 5 a.m. yesterday, that I hadn't yet made a quilt for the Suite baby.

So in my typical organized fashion (snork perfectly appropriate here) I settled in at the table with a stack of fabric from my stash. And nary a plan. Of course.

That led to some last-minute, ill-advised changes that had me seam ripping the center block out not once but twice. Laura thought that was fun. Plus it distracted her from the Charlie Chaplin mustache of a cut she suffered in an unfortunate high chair incident.

This afternoon, with precious little light from our perpetually storm-crossed windows, the quilt is done. Fini.

.

I wanted to play around with a traditional nine-patch and log cabin, only I've seen these wonky log cabin quilts where the center "hearth" of the block is asymmetrical. Let me tell you, it's not very easy on a girl. That there center block is the third wonky block I pieced and inserted into the quilt. Again, I don't recommend my methods. Casual and balanced is difficult to do at once. For me.

.

And a little side note: I must bestow the Husband of the Year award, once again, to Mr. Suite. For valor at the cutting table in pursuit of a piece of Warm and Natural batting. He may have been completely out of his element, making three phone calls to ascertain material width and length and whatnot, but he is completely secure in winning that particular award; he's got it wrapped up for decades yet.

Slipped! (Or, it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful)

All linked up to Pink and Polka Dot's slipcover party... there are some seriously beauty-ful slips over there!

Did I promise a picture of a third-trimester slipcovering adventure? (You should click there to see the devastation wrought on one representative cushion.) Did I tell you I could camouflage, nay, bestow new life upon, my old blue-and-pink striped sofa into something a little more restful for our den? And for less than the cost of a mocha at a coffee drive-through?

Well. I wouldn't want anyone to think that the $2.99 is some sort of joke. I don't think I spent even that, unless I counted thread. But if you want to attempt this at home be prepared to raid your fabric stash and, further, to be happy with a mish-mash of prints.

I slipcovered all the t-shaped seat cushions as well as the back cushions. And the ottoman. And the cushion for one wing chair, which is, in its au naturel state oh-so-80s-hunter-green-with-pink-dots.

.

But I ran out of steam (and the ability to sit at the sewing machine with my baby bump in the way) for the body of the sofa. So that part's still just tucked and draped.

.

So I present to you the (maybe less than) $2.99 family room cover-up. It'll do.

.

And it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful. (To me.)

.

A few details: The seat cushions on the sofa reverse to match the turkey red paisley on the back cushions. I do have plans to sew a fitted slipcover in cafe-au-lait color for the sofa itself and for the two wing chairs (one is living in another room currently). And I probably will sew cushion covers in the same creamy neutral in case I get in the mood for a less mix-and-match-Ralph-Lauren look. But I'm pretty happy with the interim version, especially since the feathers are no longer flying from the upholstery!

Simple shoe organizer

Do you trip over your children's shoes when you kiss them goodnight? (When you kiss the children, that is, not the shoes.)

Me too.

I used to see shoe bags in the stores. Back when I went to stores. I even have one hanging in the girls' bathroom. But it has a job holding hair ribbons and styling products. Also it is floral, and Madeleine and Sarah are so over a floral bedroom. (Good thing I can still inflict my Laura Ashley sensibilities on the younger two girls.)

So. I measured the bathroom hair ribbon holder and lo and behold decided after that exhausting research that I could sew a shoe holder for the big girls' Saltwater sandals and Converse sneakers, thus saving my toes from bumping into random objects on their floor at night.

(Your obligatory Suite aside: Boots, in this household, are another matter entirely. The Western boots we Suite girls collect basically need their own room. And even if you never, ever click over, you should click on that first one. It's all about me growing a pair. A-hem.)

Without further ado I started hacking up some feedsacks from the abundance of horse feed we go through around here. The colors work with the big girls' room and the theme is certainly appropriate. In case you've not run across this type of feedsack, I'm also known to sew grocery sacks and bookbags from it. It has the feel of oilcloth, it's washable and wipable, and the colors are very vibrant. Also, it's free. First I cut strips twice the width of the vintage pillowcase that I used for the back of the whole shebang. I could have used another feedsack but the girls liked the way this looked together.

Then I pinned the strips down the left and right side in mostly even rows. I sewed using a zig zag stitch for strength.

Then I found the center of each strip and pinned it down. I sewed one long row from top of the shoe holder to the bottom, right down the middle. This left me with big loopy pieces of feedsack strip to the left and right. I I found the center of those and pinned them down, repeating the long row of stitches from top to bottom.

For the final steps I had to make the horizontal rows of feedsack strips into pockets. To do this I pleated and pinned the bottoms only of each row, leaving the tops open to accept shoes.

The hardest part was the pleating. And don't get me wrong: it's not that hard. I started out by measuring and pinning but ended up, in my usual degage way, just eyeballing the pocket pleats. It worked out fine.

I don't have a grommet thingamajig so I used some heavy-duty webbing, sewn in place in smallish loops. Then I hung it from over-the-door hooks.

I think I'll go do a happy dance in the middle of their floor. Right after I find a solution for the boots.

i

Easy anything bag

Did I mention the projects are flying from my sewing machine unattended?

I am trying to whittle away at my heap of fabric and shoulda-dones before the baby arrives. Meanwhile the weather outside has cooperated with my efforts by alternating sunshine and hailstorms in breathtakingly fast succession. Too stormy to plant anything? Grow your own laptop/diaper/bookbag:

The last time I blogged about a tote bag I was thinking of Earth Day, going green, and getting the stack of feedsacks stored in my barn down to a husband-acceptable level. That little bag is pretty cute, still, and led to my farmgirl self producing dozens of grocery-style bags made from feedsacks.

.

Those're pretty popular in our granola neck of the country. Some cottage industries sell them at our outdoor markets -- people will pay for the empty feedsacks they use as materials -- and they sell for $12 apiece. Yikes. I didn't know that when I started stitching them up. But I even made some for a former neighbor because he stopped at my house and asked for them so many times and then at one point stated that I had promised them to him.

.

I didn't remember promising anything but I made the bags for him so he'd stop stopping.

.

This new bag is not so indestructable as one made from feedsack material. And it's strictly for myself. It's big enough and padded enough for my laptop computer and has shoulder straps in my favorite paisley. It's washable. Not that that's important to a mom of five.

.

For the body of the bag I used a big rectangle of fabric sandwich, quilted on one side. For handles I used a long tube of fabric arranged on the outside of the quilted side, pinned in place before sewing:

I'm not usually that big on pinning, but straps and handles have to be in the right place or they feel weird on your shoulder.

.

I also sewed in some inside pockets, measured to fit my phone, my notepad and pens:

(I should mention that the first thing I did was reinforce the very middle of the big rectangle, or the bottom of the bag, with extra layers and triple stitching about an inch wider than my laptop computer is deep. There are products for this that are stiff, enough to make a bag stand up, but I don't find them to be very washing-machine friendly. And, um, I would have had to go to the fabric store for some. 'Nuf said.)

Finally I placed a little rectangular side gusset (is that the right word?) on each side so the bag opens wide enough for whatever:

As an afterthought I also added some little ties to close it at the top.

I took it to the doctor's office yesterday, loaded with crayons and coloring books and the big girls' novels, and got compliments on it in the waiting room.

.

I love the fabrics in this so much I may make a few receiving blankets to coordinate.

.

But if my ex-neighbor comes asking, I don't manufacture these and y'all need to be my witness: I promised NOTHING. I have enough projects of my own lined up.

.

That being said. In the next few days you should bug me if I don't post my other recently finished project -- a shoe organizer made for Madeleine from more feedsacks.

My $2.99 family room makeover ... the tease edition

Those are the mix-and-match fabrics I grabbed from my stash for a much-needed sofa slipcover.

Needed? Nah. (I am so mortified to post that picture. It's almost as bad as the kitchen before of yore after which Lexi exposed evidence, hotly debated by me, of a tequila/margarita "habit." Exposed stuffing... almost as bad as suspicion of drinking on the blog.)

.

We've actually had a SureFit slipcover on this sofa for the past few years or so. I think the brand name SureFit is ingenious in the same way a small car becomes "comfortable" in the advertisements. Of necessity there's no mention that you can't get your knees to fit between the steering wheel and seat. In this manner, the SureFit slipcover, while cute, needs constant adjustment, tucking, cursing, and so it's time to make a fitted cover for the body and new upholstery for the seats to hold it all together.

.

I wanted a new sofa even though this one is unbelievably comfortable. Well-made in that annoying heirloom furniture way. (Ugly but too good to throw out.) It's just, um, not my color scheme and it's HUGE. It takes up the entire den. So I wanted a new sofa even before some mysterious strange phenomenon (can you say "my children never jump on the furniture"?) started pulling the upholstery and underlying thin layer of down and feathers to bits.

.

However: I shopped for MONTHS for a new sofa before deciding to tackle this project in the face of my shopping failure. (Hardly a first. Shopping and me, we're like t --- h --- i ---s.) I have slipcovered before, friends, and it's not a job for a girl in her third trimester with accompanying asthma, pre-term labor, a family to feed, etc.

.

Nevertheless. I'm sewing. And I'll keep you posted.

For the love of books ... and marshmallows

Sarah sewed her own bookbag with scraps from my fabric stash. Here's her pattern: Two squarish pieces measured about one inch bigger than her sketchbook. One long rectangle for the bottom and sides, double strength on the bottom. Two tripled skinny rectangles as loop handles that can go over her shoulder. She measured.

And then she got a little more confident and made an MP-3 pouch to coordinate with polka dotted grosgrain ribbon for the strap. (My favorite part of that is the big vintage button closure.) Reading and drawing and music and funky fabric combos. She must be my daughter.

.

Right now Madeleine and Sarah are both reading The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan. We're late to this party but it's so much fun. The book incorporates a lot of Greek mythology and we're just now entering the rise of the Roman empire in history class so there's some serendipitous school overlap. Plus I just love Greek mythology. See how easy it is to make me happy?

.

And on that subject, I was in line at the grocery store this afternoon right behind a farmgirl I know from our rural village. While Madeleine and her oldest son talked about that very book my friend and I had a chance to catch up as well. Both of us, she with her four boys and me with my four girls, took guilty glances at our carts.

.

The quick draw was on.

.

(Now I know this woman to be a great mother. An accomplished vegetable gardener. Raises much of her own meat. Super involved with their boys' school and Scouting. In short, I admire her a lot.)

.

I took inventory of my cart. She waved a hand over the conveyor belt of goodies from her own cart.

.

"The boys have had sore throats," she explained hurriedly over her (clearly not everyday purchase of) pudding cups and single-serve yogurts.

.

"And we're going camping," I countered breathlessly about my (uncharacteristic haul of) cheddar dogs and marshmallows.

.

What a funny world. As if I would ever judge her, or any other mom, based on the contents of her grocery cart. At least not until I took the Nutter Butters out of my own eye.

I might have mentioned a quilt block?

All 12, in fact, are now finished. Each block, and I'm not saying I counted or anything, has approximately (see, it's an estimate, and I'm stretching but still "counting" some of this as homeschool math) three bajillion tiny infuriating pieces.

Add to the mind bogglingly small triangles, squares, rectangles and trapezoids my terminal indecision about color and my fascination with every ELSE's color choices (like restaurant ordering envy, but much, much worse), not to mention my general, non-pregnancy-related aversion to the little quilter's helper called the iron, and you will have one hormonal (YES I'm blaming this on the baby; wouldn't YOU?) mess of a piece.

Oh! Oh! Oh! I musn't forget that throughout the quilting retreat I spent a lot of time with my camera. Not the usual method of finishing a quilt top in two days, you say? Well. This year's weekend was particularly poignant as there were several grandmother-granddaughter and mother-daughter pairs stitching side by side in a multigenerational display of loveliness and timeless pursuit of household beauty. I couldn't help myself with the camera.

So try not to look too closely at those points (be they fabric or philosophical), if you don't mind. It's hard to sew over 5.5 months of baby bump. For me. All righty then.

In other news:

My wonderful husband bought me a much-desired (drool might have been involved) book yesterday. Shocking, I know. Its title? Weekend Sewing by Heather Ross. The irony isn't lost on me either. Just let me have a moment with it.

Blooming

I'm waiting for spring.

It can be hard to do.

While I wait, I keep myself busy, mostly indoors (because it's pouring down rain as though El Nino is a little bit of a liar, that's why). I spend my spare time on a little sewing (that cute gathered knit top with fabric button flower), a little seed starting (peas and spinach, anyone?), a little bit of virtual shopping on craigslist (so far of the window variety only although I did find a tempting LOG CABIN for $2,995, "you move it"), a little bit of dreaming of sunnier days when this baby will be born at just about the same time as the summer garden goes in (if it goes in).

Also I spend a little (lot of) time on parenthetical type thoughts. Clearly.

Is it still snowing where you are? Or, like me, are you teased by the first daffodils but thwarted from outdoor fun by the fact that it's not. yet. spring?

It stacks up

So this weekend I'm gone to a quilting retreat.

Last year I spent a good deal of my preparation time, um, er, freaking out about all the talented quilters and designers and whether I'd stick out like a sore thumb.

This year I was invited back! But the retreat weekend snuck up on me a little. That was good because it condensed the panic time.

My fabrics are chosen and cut; even my back-up complementary fabric is cut in case of last-minute change of mind. Not that that ever happens to me. My sewing machine, cutting mat, rulers and overnight bag are at the ready.

But wait.

Last year the retreat was on a remote mountaintop in the middle of public forest land, enhancing its exclusive mystique and my sense of removal from home and hearth. This year, by sheer coincidence, the venue is moved across the road from me. I may sleep at home in between hours of frantic, I mean earnest, stitching and creativity and fellowship with the neat women and artists I was privileged to meet last year.

And I hope to share pictures of my completed quilt top when I return. From across the road. (Why did the chicken...?)

People pocket dress

I got a little restless while waiting on some paperwork yesterday so I started cutting up Laura's t-shirts and some random flannel bits.

This dress is not the most seamstressy thing I've ever made, but it sure is the baby's favorite.

Because of the Little People pocket! An afterthought with an oversized button closure and a scrap of ricrac, it makes the perfect play dress accessory. I might have to add some Little People (Lego, Beanie Baby) pockets to more of her swing tops.

(Don't mind the mountain of toys in that snapshot. Please.)

What have you repurposed lately?

Good Egg

All I can say is... that poor hen.

Grace outgrew her favorite jeans. We got a little flirty and added a ruffle.

Turning compost. Check out the rubber boots.

Scratching around for something good to eat.

Seven eggs a day!

What more can I say about that?

The couch didn't see much of us this past weekend.

We partied with friends in a pre-Oscar extravaganza. We worked outside. We cleaned inside. We returned to the week ready to rest up from the weekend.

While I Was Sewing

Cute block, huh?

A few more hints here.

That was the view distracting me at my quilting retreat.

And that was the sassy and sweet welcome home I received!

I had a marvelous weekend of stitchery and fun. I only missed my girls every other minute, but I know they had so much fun. My husband took them to the Grange for a potluck and a showing of Princess Bride. He also took them to a basketball game to even out the foof factor. The girls don't show any ill effects of my absence, so I might have to do it all again soon.

Our hostess at the retreat definitely gets my vote for homesteading woman of the year. Together with her four children and her husband (who has a full-time job outside the home) she quilts, makes yogurt and cheese including cheddar and parmesan, sells dozens of eggs and 80 gallons a month of raw milk, works their garden and woodlot, runs regularly, and in general makes me feel inspired to do more and do better.

She is a lovely woman I am so glad to have met. And, hurray! She lives just three miles from me and yet I'd never met her. I finished my quilt top; it's lovely and I shall update you with photos as I continue work on the pieced fussy-cut borders. I finished a truly beautiful quilt top and I made some new friends. But more importantly I returned home refreshed and ready for the day-to-day of it all.

I think seeing the beauty in that dailiness is the window of opportunity we're all so fervently seeking. For some reason I remember a momentary encounter of eight and a half years ago. I was driving through Kentucky Fried Chicken (such a flattering part of the memory, I know), having snuck out of bedrest with tiny Madeleine in her carseat in my beat-up Volvo station wagon.

My hugely pregnant self was wedged in so my never-long legs could reach the pedals while still allowing the steering wheel clearance to turn. My craving for a biscuit I can still feel intensely. I can even still hear the untintelligible voice from the drive-through speaker on that hot July day. I remember the difficulty I had rolling the window back up with a hand crank only to have to roll it down again when I reached the biscuit delivery moment.

On that day, along with my biscuit I received some advice that I have frankly not thought about between then and now.

"It's none of it work," said the grandmotherly woman who took my dollars and handed me my food. She looked meaningfully at my sleeping toddler (and probably at my pregancy-weary expression) before repeating herself. "It's none of it work."

"You just enjoy these years like they're never coming back. You hear?"

Panic Sets In

We spent a quiet weekend on the hobby farm.

My husband woke up late Saturday morning after working nearly 'round the clock all week on a big project. I woke up early Saturday morning after holding down the fort nearly single-handledly all week.

I tiptoed past the girls' rooms like a teenager sneaking out of the house at night, avoiding the creaky floorboards and barely breathing. The baby could sense me passing. I froze in place and waited for the quiet rustle of turning over in her crib.

I just wanted to putter in my kitchen, walk around the frosted farmyard with a steaming cup of coffee as the sun came up, check on my seedlings, and get my sewing machine warmed up. I had a little Valentine dress in store for Gracie and Laura, not to mention the quilting retreat of next weekend.

The puttering went fine. I reorganized my baking center. I bleached out the sinks. I dug through the bread box and gave the chickens a Saturday feast of crumbs and bread heels.

The frosty sunrise walk was as though I'd pushed a re-set button on my weekend. The garden is mostly still blanketed in mulch. My cold frame with garlic and salad seedlings is cute as can be. The horses followed me along the fenceline between garden and paddock, nickering for breakfast and pawing at the frozen ground for emphasis. I was sure the house was ready for breakfast as well but it was hard to go back inside.

I just knew there'd be something wrong with my sewing machine.

I've been quilting for almost 20 years. I started machine-piecing blocks in college as a way to avoid studying for finals. I moved on through strip quilting (hah hah hah... sounds like I was wild in college... anyway, for non-quilters: this means quilting with strips of fabric, not removing one's clothing to quilt) and hand applique. I flirted around with machine quilting for a while but wasn't really pleased with the results.

Almost every aspect of quilting is relaxing to me. I love the fabrics. I love the repetitive steps of piecing a block. I love arranging the blocks differently to see the quilt's potential finished beauty. I love the magic of a finished top emerging from the machine, shaken out and left on the back of the couch to admire before the work of making a quilt sandwich for backing and batting and binding.

So when a friend invited me to a hush-hush, exclusive quilters' retreat for this coming weekend, I knew something would go wrong.

First I was worried that I'd get uninvited after I lost my friend's 4-year-old child (however briefly).

Then I started losing sleep in earnest when I received the six pages of instructions. It's a mystery quilt, an original design by the famous quilter who hosts the retreat. I am instructed to buy certain yardages of certain color values in three separate color groupings and cut them into specific widths. I am instructed to burn the instructions after reading (just kidding).

The retreat is next weekend. I am sworn to secrecy, which of course means I'm gonna try to sneak my camera in and beg for blogging permission. I can tell you this: All quilters will arrive Friday with their sewing machines, rotary mats, fabric. All quilters will leave Saturday night with a finished quilt top.

Crikey. That doesn't sound remotely relaxing.

The brochure (book) even has scheduled time for walks in the woods and meals and snacks and chatting. Are they KIDDING?

I'm going to arrive with no clue of the quilt's design and LEAVE WITH IT FINISHED?

Panic sets in. The meditative walk at dawn, the quiet kitchen organization, was all for naught. When it got time to get the sewing machine out, I just knew. something. would. go. wrong.

There's no truth to that self-fulfilling prophecy idea, is there? For a full hour on Saturday I was sure my feed dogs (sewing machine part that feeds the fabric through at prescribed speed) wouldn't go back up. I flipped the switch. I consulted the manual. I unplugged the machine. I cried. I even wielded a screwdriver in my frantic state. No sewing machine, no retreat. My husband actually asked me to leave the room, such was my anxiety level.

Um. Did you know that feed dogs go up and down in a rotating motion as they feed the material? So they might actually be "up" and ready to work, even if they appear to be "down" ....

Well, friends, bear with me in my starstruck crafty freakouts. I'll try to sneak you some pictures.

Accountability Sewing

Okay. I know it would have been fun to contemplate the feed bag purse for a while, then let the feedbags stack up in the barn until Ryan went ballistic about saving g-a-r-b-a-g-e, then finally acquiesce and send the bags to the dump with another "I coulda made such cute blankety-blanks" sob story. But then KL threw out the "get real" challenge. And I had a serendipitous homebody day. And the baby took a good nap. So...

The feedbags are woven oilcloth-like fabric. The designs are fun and graphic. It sews together really easily with a regular weight needle. The only real challenge I had (other than not making a plan before I started, lol) was that it is pretty stiff. It was important at the corners to notch it like the picture shows.


I lined it with the red calico, 100% cotton fabric I pulled out of one of my fabric bins. I was planning to have the lining just inside, but because the feedbag didn't press back like a fabric seam, I folded the calico over. It doesn't look as tidy from a seamstress perspective, but I think the red showing is pretty cute.

I originally cut up a pair of Osh Kosh overalls to make handles, but they didn't work very well, so I used some yellow grosgrain ribbon that I had on hand. I was tempted by the memory of some great purse handles I had seen at JoAnn fabric on my last day out with Sarah, but in the spirit of farmgirl frugality (and to avoid putting off what can be done today or forgot about forever), I used the ribbon. I think it looks fun!

Homebody Monday

More snow on daffodils that I shoveled out of the new horse paddocks straight into this old wooden trug. Note the careful placement of an upside-down sprinkler.

Cousin Makayla and Sarah... very happy to find eachother at the big ballet class.

And Gracie, super tired out after plies:

The Sissonettes, freezing in their leos outside of the class.

Sarah's superthick braid. She gets her hair from me:

Eugene did it! On Sunday afternoon the girls and I helped set a Guiness World Record for the
"World's Largest Ballet Class."

We enjoyed another whirlwind weekend. It snowed ... and snowed... and rained... too yucky to be outdoors, but a great weekend for dancing in the University of Oregon's Mac Court for an attempt at the World's Largest Ballet Class. The numbers were initially a little low, so even I stood at the barre for 45 minutes, attempting plies and developes with the crowd of 580 or so. Holding Laura on one shoulder to boot! I guess I've still "got it." Plus 20 years. As one of the instructors put it, "young dancers have the bodies, midlife dancers have heart."

In other news:

Our church's search for a new pastor continues. We are eager to find the right person since the parsonage is across the road from us. The girls really miss having a family live there.

Grace and Laura and I are having a (sort of) day off. I am calling clients and writing yet more company bios today from home today. Tomorrow morning I get to show property and goodness knows what the rest of the week will bring, so we needed a homebody day.

The chicks are almost completely feathered out. I need to take more photos. Ryan wasn't able to finish the chicken tractor over the weekend, again thanks to snow.

The feedsack purses are the craft project du jour. I will post photos this afternoon, good or bad. I understand there are some sewing challenges going on in blogland. KL at http://www.katiescalamities.blogspot.com/ is determined to sew something today with her unbelievably vast stash of fabric, which I understand grew more over the weekend. Misty at http://www.mistywagner.blogspot.com/ is also (I think) tackling some sewing. Anyone else?

We were blessed last night by our good friends cooking us dinner and dessert and sharing a very special drink to celebrate our business purchase. That was fun!

I think that's all the news that's fit to post. Have a blessed day all...