I quilt.
Or, more accurately, I used to quilt. A lot. I loved it. I loved it so much that I went and bought a fancy-delancy quilters sewing machine. A Bernina. It's a beautiful machine. It's the BMW 7 series (or luxury car of your choice) of the sewing machine world.
Then I stopped quilting. Probably three years ago. I made one quilt for a friend about a year and a half ago, but that's the only sewing I've done.
And my sewing area got to be a bit of a nightmare, along with the rest of my office. Fabric and notions were everywhere. Papers, pens, pencils, and other assorted detritus were starting to overtake me.
About three weeks ago I decided it was time to clean up in here. I bought a new shredder and some fabulous new plastic storage bins for the occasion. I started at one end and slowly made my way through the piles. It's a far cry from perfect but it's much better.
And in the process of cleaning I saw my sewing machine sitting there. And something called to me. OK, maybe it was just my friend Kelly calling to talk to me about our other friend Jill's baby shower. But I heard ringing. And somewhere in the middle of the conversation it occured to me, "What better baby gift than a home-made quilt?"
So I decided to start sewing again.
I sat down with all my quilt books and scoured for the perfect pattern. I found it. I went and bought my fabric.
Here's the thing...when you're a quilter (or I guess any person who loves sewing and fabric), when you are out and about and see some fabric that you like you buy it. Maybe just a 1/4 yard, or maybe a yard or two--depending on the fabric and how much you love it. Because when you see that fabric, you know that one day it will be the perfect fabric for that particular quilt you're going to make. So you add it to the other piles of fabric you have acquired in that way and you have what's called your "stash". I have a ton of fabric in my stash and I love it all. Yet, for some really really sick reason, I am reluctant to use it in any of my quilts. I love it and know it would be beautiful but some sickness prevents me from actually cutting into it. So when I want to make a quilt, despite how ever much fabric I may have in my office/sewing room, I have to go out and buy more.
So I went and bought more fabric for Jill's quilt. She's having a boy baby so I bought a beautiful bunch of blues, lavenders, and teals. I could barely wait to get home from the fabric store and start cutting into it and sewing it.
I dusted off the old Bernina and started sewing.
And then I remembered why I stopped sewing. You see, it seems my sewing machine is posessed. I would step on the treadle and it would sew the way it's supposed to. Then, despite still pressing it would stop sewing. Then I would take my foot off the treadle to examine what was going on and it would start sewing. All by itself. And the only way to stop the sewing is to turn the entire sewing machine off.
For those of you who are not familiar with sewing machines--like a car, they are not supposed to go unless you press the treadle (think gas pedal).
So I side-lined that machine and took out my trusty old Singer (think 64 VW bug to keep with the car methaphor I started earlier). It's not pretty. It does not glide across the fabric. But when I step on the treadle it goes and when I take my foot off it stops.
I vow to take the Bernina in to the shop but it pains me as I know it's going to cost me a minimum of $300 to get it fixed. And the Singer is doing just fine.
Then I run out of thread on my bobbin.
I go to wind a new bobbin and for some reason the Singer is not enjoying this very much. I have everything loaded the way it should be, and when I step on the treadle I hear the motor going, but the bobbin is not turning.
So I go back to the Bernina. Because even though it's not working the way it's supposed to, it does not matter if the machine runs uncontrollably when threading a bobbin. And about half way through the bobbin the Bernina decides it does not like this and refuses to work.
So now I have half a bobbin, one sewing machine that is totally on the fritz, and my old cluncker that's getting clunkier by the minute.
The very next day I take the Bernina into the shop. That was a week ago Tuesday. I explained that my machine was possessed and that I wanted it exorcised and just generally cleaned and serviced as soon as humanly possible. He assured me a week ago Tuesday that the machine would be ready on Thursday at the latest. In a flash I used up the measley little half bobbin I managed to cobble together before blowing out my machine for good.
Well, now it's been 10 days that my machine has been in the shop and it's not going to be home until next Thursday at the earliest. Because in addition to the gears that needed replacing, and the various and sundry other things that were apparently wrong, it also needs a new treadle and that is on backorder from someplace in Colorado.
I'm absolutely on pins and needles. A long holiday weekend perfect for finishing Jill's project and starting the next one I've already got the fabric cut for. No angel music here.
Posted by beth at May 27, 2005 09:41 PM