Pinterest will be the death of me. (Doll Quilt #2, with Pouch)

Sometimes it works in everyone's favor, like the time I came across One Pot Mexican Quinoa, but usually it's pretty self serving, knitting patterns, quilt patterns that end up costing real, actual money, and time.  Time that Mr Snork has to volunteer to occupy the anklebiters so they don't unwind my bobbins while simultaneously trying to puncture everything in site with a stolen seam ripper.  (They stole it from me, it didn't start out as stolen).

The other day, right after dropping off a baby quilt to my longarm lady, I came across this:

Literally, just after I sent the other quilt on its way, and it was a good time to wash some dishes and address that shady lower drawer in my fridge.  But, alas.  Pinterest never leads to dish washing.  And rarely to the lower fridge drawers, since it is not where I keep quinoa and enchilada sauce.  It leads to this:  

And this:

And ultimately, the best part, this:

And it would be awesome if I was pulled together enough to make this in a couple hours, like Pinterest said I would.  But Pinterest didn't know that instead of using any cute fabric, I'd HAVE to piece a mini quilt out of scraps from the recent baby quilt.  (It's kind of adorable to have a doll blanket matching baby cousin's blanket?)  Then I'd HAVE to try some sort of a new pattern (disappearing four patch, which, FYI, doesn't work if you use all the colors ever created.  If you can't commit to a solid color to pull it all together, you may as well just four patch and skip the disappearing act).  Then practice mitered border corners.  (that was actually cute).   

And the fact that my Singer 301 wouldn't have anything to do with minky fabric until I read all the forums and went to JoAnn's to get some ballpoint needles.  Picky, picky.  I don't know how a 60 year old machine knows what needle is jabbing fabric down there, but apparently it does, and if it's not the right one, it gets super offended.  

It was kind of worth it though, because historically the doll quilt and baby quilt I have made for the girls don't get used, ever.  Mouse says it's not a "real blanket".  Apparently, the REAL, made in China, preferred blankets of this household all have some sort of a fleece side.  And now that I know this, and  incorporated that in, it is Eva the Monkey's new favorite. It's been a long time since something I've made got picked over it's Chinese counterpart, I'm pretty excited.  

The Blue Elephant (Singer 338)

I picked her up, with manual and all extra parts at a yard sale for $8.  I was looking for a Singer 185, and asking everyone if they were selling an old sewing machine.  While Mr Snork rolled his eyes, and mumbled that if they were selling a machine, it would be on their lawn.

Naturally, as he was mumbling something to this effect at a sale in Pacifica few weeks back, the lady ran back into the house, talking about indeed having an old machine or two.  Her son/cashier, confided in me that it was the 'ugly blue/green from way back', and I probably wouldn't want it, as the Mr groaned.  "If it's ugly, she'll want it even more.  FML"

It turned out to be a Singer 338, complete with a plastic blue carrying case.  It's giant, very heavy, and generally elephant- like.  I stayed behind and petted its beautiful pastel blue enamel paint, lest someone think it's not taken as Mr Snork left to the ATM.   Not having any cash is usually a foolproof way not to buy stuff, but every once in a while, when I start petting inanimate objects, he just turns around and comes back with some money.  It's almost telepathic, and really, really endearing.  I wish I could pay him back in kind, but he just never gets excited about a screwdriver or a saw at a yard sale like that.   

Good thing I stayed, too, because two other ladies were hawk eyeing my new baby like crazy, and one asked if she could pet it also.  True story. 

The 338s were only made for a couple years, in the early 60's.  It uses cams for decorative stitches, and can even do double needle stitching.  Pretty fancy.  (I wonder if ever there arises a need for decorative stitches.)

I didn't need another machine, and I still want the 185.  But - for $8 - how do you walk away?? 

It's my very first "portable" machine, and I promptly unfolded it all at my dad's house, and imagined myself a travelling seamstress.  I mean.  It might be a little over a flight baggage allowance on most airlines, but it's such a pretty blue color.. 

It fired right up, the light and everything, and went to stitching like new.  All very, very pleasing. 

And, to crown the last yard sale of the day, while the Mr was off banking, there were these sterling earings in an old sewing box.  First I hunted down a matching pair..  and then I added them to the tab.  Total at check out: $8.25.  Win.

Vogue 8552, Sack-ness, and Cute-ness.

Affectionately known as The Sack.

I think it could be super cute, on someone with lesser hips than mine. I was in love with the pockets, and overall sack-ness of it, but, turns out when I wear a sack – not SPECTACUAR. My mom would say that it's good for selling potatoes at Moscow's Central Market.  The cartoon chick on the envelope pattern does it better. Certainly not because she’s drawn on a scale of 5’11’’ height and a 10” waist.

The other problem is that inevitably, I am drawn to colours, and sparkles, and big bunches of pink. It’s like I think I might expire out of boredom, if I used a sensible, solid fabric. But, I think this dress would do well in a solid fabric, may be with some contrast topstitching, to bring out the pockets. That way they might not look like a flowery extension of my butt.

However, I made it, so I LOVE it.

Not to mention, it was my birthday, and for the Most Thoughtful, Cute Gift EVER, Mr Snork got me these:

Tell me you didn’t just fall over, overwhelmed by the adorableness. I feel overwhelmed just typing about it.  My very own labels.  I feel very Gaultier-like. 

Some other developments for this dress:

I figured out how to use an ancient “Buttonholer”.

I'm not even sure how it works, it all happens so fast.  I think it just maniacally rattles the machine, which in turn sews a buttonhole out of sheer terror.  That's what it seems like, anyway.  Although it’s entirely a crapshoot on whether it’ll make a buttonhole or chew up and spit out your fabric mangled – I bravely made a buttonhole (attempt 2). Complete with tiny, cute, glass rose buttons courtesy of JoAnn’s. I also spent a half hour with my seam ripper on ButtonHOLE Attempt 1, but I don’t like to talk about it. I will say, that is a LOT of stitches in a small area. A bit of an FML moment. But, it can’t be blamed – It came with the sewing machine I got at a garage with a receipt from the 60’s.  It’s a wonder it didn’t just crackle and fall apart. 

I decided to forgo the zipper, mostly because I wanted to use a buttonholer, and I put in two small darts in the front, under the bust. The ruffles on top translated into a ‘belly pouch” area that I found unattractive and in need of being eliminated.   It's a little evident in photo below, but its after I put in on, having eaten a loaf of bread with olive oil that it really thrives and stands out.. It would make a fantastic Maternity Sack.

The best part came in after I washed it, for the first time ever, because I forgot to preshrink.  It’s now a much shorter sack. Luckily, I kept shaving off the armholes, until I had taken off nearly an inch, because it seemed I either have behemoth arms, (I don’t) or they were cut for wrists. I worried that an inch made them too ‘gapey’. Not to worry though, the shrink job took them right back up. Speaking of armholes, I thought those sleeves would look stupid and flappy, but they’re flappy and CUTE!

Hello, Baby (Craigslist WIN)

I have a Craigslist obsession.  It's bordering on unhealthy.  I know it's a problem, and I'm trying to deal with it.  Unsuccessfully. 

Introducing, my newest toy:

I have been diligently stalking Craigslist and garage sales for a serger, with not much luck, for a few months now.  Just when I was resigned to buying whatever I could get  my hands on for $40, and mastering french seams (check) this came up.  For $50, I have the BabyLock Protege (BL 402), with a carry case, although no manual.   It's got 4 scary needles, differential feed, and works faster than I think.

I was a little intimidated, because I had called a local sewing shop last week - to see about their used/floor models - and the sales guy dropped some unsettling knowledge on me regarding sergers.  Most of it had to do with me needing the self threading serger, because they are otherwise impossible to thread.  Impossible.  It takes professionals 15 minutes, he said, and it blew the wind out of my serger sail significantly.  The magical serger starts at $1,000.  I mean.  I love this sewing thing, but if I had an extra thousand Snorkcoins, I might allocate it to Mr Snorks' New Dirtbike Fund.  Or something that involves an exotic country.  Not a sewing machine.  Time for those french seams. 

However, The Baby has a tiny handy color coded threading diagram right on it, and Mr Snork downloaded a copy of a similar Brother 1034D serger for me, and played a few YouTube videos of the threading process.  Even without the YouTube videos, I had the thing threaded in 5 minutes. That includes a couple of choice words and looking in the bathroom for my tweezers (they come in handy). 

I think I will call the salesman back and call him a dirty, dirty liar.

It's stupid fast.  A lot of scraps later..  I have the tension thing eyeballed.  Not so good:

Pretty bad:

Pretty good:

A 'chain' !!: 

The lady I got it from had bought it off her friend and never ordered a manual and learned to use it.  She thought it might need a new blade, but wasn't really sure if it was missing, or broken, or what.  (Blade seems to cut fine).  There was really no way to test it - since neither one of us had any idea about threading it, so she told me - "If it doesn't work,  you can bring it back, I'm not a jerk or anything".   There are some super nice people floating out there. 

Piles of Stuff and the Sewing Pile

I have recently been motivated (by reading the appropriate blogs, of course) to declutter my closet and bathroom.  How can I shop for MORE clothes when I can't make sense of what I've got, right?   I was doing fine with the bathroom until I came across a 5 year old botle of Chanel 'glitter' foundation, remembered how it was $90, and it halted my progress.  On one hand, I can't be putting 5 year old glitter bits on my face (I'm sacred to even try in on a wrist), on the other, how DO you toss it away? 

With bathroom decluttering at a stall, I went to adress the closet.  I keep meaning to do this, and always get just little spurts done.  Ever since I moved in with Jesse, and he kindly relinquished the master bedroom closet, I just dumped all my stuff there.  I pluck at it to find certain items that I wear regularly, but the rest is a mess.  Sweater stacked on top of capris, skirts hanging under thsirts.  It's horrible. 

It's not that I have too much clothing.  It's the fact that I keep ALL of it, from what I packed in suitcase to come here from Ukraine, to now and everything in between.  That skirt I wore in Paris the summer of '97?  Here.   The jeans I wore to Ukraine?  Here.  Ugly shirt that is probably fashionable by Russian - IN Russia standards, but that my grandmother gave me?  Here.  My first ever (and ugly) Juicy Couture skirt?  Checking in.  The dress that I *really* liked, but didn't fit into, but bought anyway, hoping to lose 10 more pounds? Here. Except, now, I'd have to lose 45 lbs. It's like a penalty for procrastination.

Am I *really* ever going to be 95lbs?  Probably not.  It's probably not even safe to try given my 5'6" height and sugar addiction.  Plus, size 2 of the 90's is a size 0 of today.  What they both have in common is that they don't fit a size 6, (8 during "lady times").  There is also a lot of in-between clothes - ones that were too big in college, so I kept them in case I found myself pregnant or just 'fat', that are now too small.   Those 'fat clothes' *really* displease me, along with the fact that I considered size 4 to be fat.  HAA.  ha.  Humph. 

I have 4 piles going: 

-Rag pile.  These are the hopeless clothes, that have seen too many campfires and climbed too many fences/rocks.  These are also clothes I can not identify or assign ownership to.  Or that belonged to an ex.  Don't leave your stuff at my house, is the moral of this story.  If I don't find it nice enough to wear (BTW, thanks for that shirt you accidentally left at my place, Heather!), these will be cut into rags.  Which is awesome, it's about time I washed me a floor.  Spot cleaning with paper towel is just not leaving a desired effect.  My grandmother would be uimpressed. 

- Goodwill pile.  This a nice assortment to give back to Goodwill (I DO wish they accepted trades).  A lady this weekend's Redlands Goodwill told me that in Phoenix they give you a 20% coupon when you donate.  That would be nice.  But I'll deal.  They give me a lot of neat stuff, they get stuff back.  It's like 10 years old, but you can bet I only ever wore it once-twice.  Then I had a sandwhich and it no longer fit. 

- Ebay pile.  Or 'trade' pile.  I have an unfortunate amount of 7 Jeans that are in ridiculous sizes.  I think I bought them, thinking, the smaller they are, the better they will make my butt look, and have an overall "Spanx" effect.  Not true then (couldn't breathe or sit), and definately not true 45 lbs later (won't go past my knees).   There's shop called Trade Post on Harbor St that buys, sells, and trades a very limited selection of clothing.  Limited in the brands, anyway.  I am hoping to go turn in my size 26's for some 29's (31's for lady times).   Some other things will get thrown up on Ebay for .99c.  A yard sale of sorts, if you will. 

-Sewing pile.  This is my favorite.  It is a solution for the skirt I wore to Paris, and can't quite give up.  The Disney sweater that I thought would be cute for camping.  But turned out I looked like a hobo wearing mens size L.  The million pants I can't wear until hemmed, or dresses that would look cute if they were shorter, or clothing that various people 'donate' to me, ever since I got my awesome sewing machine.  I enjoy tearing stuff apart and making it either fit me, or converting to something else entirely.  Every once in a while, it might end up a candidate for the Rag Pile, so I can't be BUYING clothes for this purpose, the rejects will do.  I also imagine myself making a quilt at some point down the road, incorporating all the "Paris skirt"  and "grandmother given shirt" bits.  And those awesome sparkly jean pockets. 

All these pieces of clothing were randomly strewn about my closet and dresser, contaminating the environment, posing as clothes I could readily wear, but no longer!  I freed my closet, and to celebrate I ran out and bought an Express skirt and pants in fabulous vivid green and teal colours at the Huntington Beach Goodwill.  Sizes 0 and 2 out, sizes 9 and 10 in.  Ha. 

The Ebay/trade pile is awaiting a chunk of time I need.  Jesse already carted a bag over to Goodwill.  Or Salvation Army, we like to mix it up in our 'reverse dumpstering'.  And the sewing pile is in a plastic bin on a top shelf of my closet.  It is now a sewing BOX.  I can dive in there on nights I'm bored for a quick project.

Monday night, for example, I took on the skinny jeans (that I HAD to have during a Bebe clearance in Chicago, that looked horrible as jeans, because that's what happens when you cram a giant butt and tiny ankles into some spandex and call it jeans, Bebe or not.  Lesson learned.) and hemmed them into some capri leggings.

The above mentioned Disney sweater also got tackled.  It got the sleeves cut off at the seams, two inches taken out of each side, sides sewn back together, and sleeves back on.  If I was feeling really creative, I could have also made the sleeves narrower.  It would make me look like a hobo even LESS.  Another day, another project..

The one side looks better already, see?

The Ruffler Rig

I FIGGERED IT OUT!!!



My sewing machine came with drawers full of parts, feet, and attachments, of which I knew how to use none. It is on my List, to figure out if any of them are usable enough. They are a little rusty, and there's a good chance they were original with the machine in 1922.

I don't know how it happenned that I couldn't get anywhere the past months, when it turns out yesterday singerco.com has no only photos of various feet/attachments, but also PDFs of manuals, and, for some, even a video demo!

Out came the Ruffler, or, "that thing with the crab pincher"



I FOUND the instructions, but I'm way too smart and proud to a c t u a l l y make us of a manual, so I saw the picture, eyeballed the position, and ran to fetch mine. It took 3 solid minutes of wiggling, rocking back and forth, and staring blankly before it all made sense (but not before I almost crushed the table, trying to press the entire foot mechanism down with the bottom of needle screw, as opposed to hooking the "pincher thing" OVER the needle screw, which, if you were half way clever, is the ONLY way to get the whole little rig moving to do what it does. Which is, MAKE RUFFLES!



The big screw on top of the Ruffle Rig regulates how deep the ruffle is:



Screwing it tight and to the bottom makes them deepest, letting it far out makes tiny shallow tucks.



My attachment has settings for a pleat every stitch, or a pleat every 5 stitches. In the middle is the "rest" groove, if you need a break from ruffles, and don't want to switch out feet.



I cut into some of my left over cotton from Danish Chairs covers, and then remembered the machine also came with a drawer stocked full of bias tape of all sorts. I picked out the one I'm least likely to use for a sewing project, and experimented with all 3 yards of it.




I am AMAZED that something like this actually DOES something. I mean, it's a couple pieces of steel, few screws, a 'pincher' a 'toothy metal plate', and a 'tiny sprocket' * Not to mention that the whole deal attaches to something powered by my feet or hand only. If all in the world went wrong, and we ran out of sunlight and electricity (these things could happen) I could still make ruffled curtains by the candlelight, all day every day.

This might only be new to me, because I have since found these online, and for newer machines.

Next, it light of this development, is the ruffling of the Green Fluff that is to hang behind my living room curtains. I've been meaning to stitch it and gather the stitching, and stitch again to a ribbon, but this might be easier. I think I have 180 inches of Fluff width, and a 102" window, so I have to figure out what fuffle setting is going to give me a 102/180 ratio.

On my list of Mysterious Attachments now is the Tucker. I found a picture of it, which is how I know what it's called. But it's not the same as the PinTucker on the singer.co site, it's a thingy with a whole mini ruler deal attached to it. I don't know that anything can match the ruffle excitement, but I will try.

Treadle On

A star feature in my Random Things I Could Have Probably Done Without collection.

A lady at work had this Singer treadle machine. Did I even know what a treadle is that morning? Nope. But anyway, she said it was a sewing machine, and a cast iron base, and a table all in one. Cast iron appealed to me, probably because I have the 300 lbs of it in the kitchen, and it seemed unfair that other rooms have none.

I went to see it, and even though, in retrospect, I have walked past 80-140 of them in my thrift shop/antique mall strolls, I fell in love. It had minimal rust, medium dust, and maximum cuteness factor. (It is tiny). I could picture sewing outfits on it, then flipping it closed and having tea on top. I'd make the cast iron black and shiny. What a win. I looked up the serial number, and it was made in 1920. The needle moved. I was in love.

Later Jesse confessed he didn't think I'd get the thing working, but there is no talking to me when I see shiny things I like. Or dusty, dirty things, that I can picture nursing to shiny. So we loaded it up, and brought it upstairs, at the (imagined, but probably very real) dismay of neighbors who see a never ending string of "pieces" entering the dwelling, and very seldom (never) one leaving.

My reasoning was that :

1. My grandma was soon bringing curtains that would show up in a one giant piece of fabric to be sewn and I needed the sewing machine.

2. I've always wanted a sewing machine

3. Simple sewing machine with a googled, almost never fail mechanism was my best bet.

4. I could always Craigslist/Ebay it if it doesn't work/we have no space for it.

This last point is my most convincing argument when it comes to finding and insisting on dragging "pieces" home, and somehow, Jesse keeps falling for it. It's genius, really.

I have yet to clean the cast iron, or paint the "Singer" wording gold, or to completely revamp the wood top. (Jesse took pity and glued down the offensively sticking out veneer bits). I polished some shiny bits, and the wheel, took it apart as far as I felt I competently could.
(There was a really ugly - putting bobbin case back in episode that I'm not proud of, and that inspired me, in the future, to have a strict protocol of taking "before" picture in any projects that involve disassembly). Then I got impatient, and just wanted to sew. Which, it did! After threading, rethreading, cleaning out the bobbin case, and ruining a perfectly innocent queen size ratty old bed sheet of Jesse's. WIN!

On a technical side, it's a Red Eye Model 66, that has only a straight stitch forward (All I need, it turns out). It needed a new belt, which I found in a local sewing/vacuum shop, and a bobbin winding wheel. I haven't had great luck in finding this wheel, but Jesse uses a special DIY duct tape attachment on my drill, that allows me to wind a bobbin faster than my feet can treadle the treadle. The little side drawers came with heaps of bobbins, needles, thread, attachment feet (these look scary, if I ever try to make use of them, I'll post) and a whole bunch of packed bias tape. All straight from 1970's. (Does bias tape expire? Will it disintegrade on contact? We'll see)

I think we found a permanent spot for it in our living room, where, if I ever clean off heaps of fabric, thread, and pins off it and close it, it can very well be a functional little table.