Simple Afternoon Project

Or – How I Spent My [Entire] Weekend

The Monkey

The actual sock monkey part of this project, while time consuming (because The Angry Seamstress, when placed before a sewing machine, retrogrades to some kind of alternate time realm, not unlike dog years) went well. It all worked out and was pretty uneventful, but to make this part of the story a little more interesting for you followers (all THREE of you now!), I’ll tell you this: I presented the cashier at Hobby Robby the obligatory Rockford Red Heel Socks, two sheets of cardstock, and my 40% off coupon. She asked if I’d like to use the coupon for the socks ($12.00) or the paper (25 cents a sheet). I paused for a moment before answering because that has to be a joke, right? No dice.

The Dress

A friend of mine has made this Simple Sundress for her daughters, so I thought something with Simple right there in the title would provide an easy and quick way to dress up Lady Monkey. I feel obligated to point out that something with the word Simple in the title should not involve French Seams. But the French Seams weren't the problem. It was the sizing. The pattern offers measurements for girls age six months through eight years but mentions nothing about monkeys (who, as I would later learn, are quite tall). I thought, surely, Lady Monkey is smaller than a six month old, so I divided all measurements for the six month pattern by two and decided to just go for it. This is where my all-my-latest-sewing-projects-have-been-going-as-planned-and-making-me-happy streak ran out. Now, Lady Monkey has the word Lady right there in her name, so she should not be showing off her lady business, right? And, is it going too far to add that the area of the monkey that is being covered by the modesty patch is the area where the stuffing was added and then hand stitched? With brown thread? Quite a bit of it? It's all kinds of wrong.

Emphatic Exclamation!

How I Saved $38 by Stealing a Design from an Etsy Seller

I made this "Hurrah Banderole" (no one can bust me with a Google search!) for the nursery, and it makes me very happy. It also introduced me to fabric glue and felt, which decreased tantrums and cursing tenfold.*



* Excluding a trip to Hancock Fabrics where I found out - at the register - that a $7 bottle of glue had been stocked in a slot labeled $2.49.

Mouse: A Survivor's Tale

Or - That One Project that is Taking Forever

Still working, on and off, on Mouse. I lost interest long ago but will persevere as to not disappoint my followers. All zero of you. And since it is taking me so long and is so tedious, it will probably no longer be "Child's Plush Toy" but instead "That Little Guy on the Shelf that You Can't Touch." Sorry, Kiddo.

Mouse

Child's Plush Toy Inspired by Childhood Drawing Drawn by Person Prone to Childish Tantrums During Sewing Projects


Oh, that Martha Stewart. I can tell by the general tension that surrounds her that she is, despite her flawless persona, a fellow angry seamstress. Someone on her staff posted a brilliant idea on marthastewart.com to sew children's toys inspired by their drawings. Even though my future child is the daughter of an artist who could out-draw most adults by the time he was four, current technology prevents me from obtaining any creative output from her just yet. So I found the next best thing: a drawing I did at the age of three, “Mouse.”

As you can see in the picture, “Mouse” has a very large belly button, a mustache (or is it teeth?), and a couple dozen legs (or is that just long hair?), which I think makes him the ideal candidate for this project.

Martha recommends that her minions cut out the child’s actual drawing and use the pieces for their patterns. This proves that Martha is neither sentimental nor humane. A better idea is to make a photo copy of the drawing, trace it with a Sharpie marker, enlarge it on the copying machine, and make a pattern.

Now to choose the fabric...

Fabrich

My Granny's double knit fabric (recently rescued from my cousin's attic) washed and folded OCD style.

Recent Internet Buys

Summer 2009 Sun Dress

Home EcoChronics

Or – the class in which I am grouped with all the alternative school kids

The Home Economics class I took during my sophomore year of high school was divided into two parts: cooking and sewing (if there was an Economics segment of the class, I haven’t the faintest memory of it). For the cooking segment, the class was divided into groups.

Perhaps I was a little bit gangsta. Or perhaps the teacher thought I would be the serious, responsible one, but I was grouped with the most stoned and underachieving of the flunkies. If S.E. Hinton were writing the script for my Home Economics class, these guys (yes, I was the only female in the group) would be the Greasers. If they blew off the regular high school courses, you can imagine their attitudes towards an elective like Home Ec.. So my memories about the cooking segment of the class are best forgotten.

But Home Economics is where I really learned to sew. I learned how to operate a real, live electric sewing machine, how to make a button hole, a new definition of “darn”, how to adjust tension, etcetera. And for our final project – while most of the other girls were making boxer short pajamas out of Looney Tunes fabric- I made the most excellent pair of velour leopard print lounge pants. And those pants are what I consider to be my first official sewing accomplishment. My second official sewing project (created during my free time at home) was a sock monkey. I personalized him with a gold earring, gold chain, and velour leopard print vest. He was Pimp Monkey. And I was a little bit gangsta.

Slowly Sewing Insane

Growing up as an only child out in the country, I spent countless hours in the back bedroom of my paternal grandmother’s house (she was my closest neighbor) watching her pump away on her vintage Singer sewing machine. Unlike gardening, canning, barn painting, and tending to the chickens, sewing was a wintertime activity. The back bedroom closet was full of quilting squares, patterns, material, buttons, and batting.

Throughout her marriage, she sewed most of the family’s clothing. In addition to outfits for her three sons, she made house dresses and summer bonnets, dabbled in embroidery, repaired the floppy necks of teddy bears, mended and altered dresses, and once – her own skin after she cut her hand.

At least once a year, when her project outgrew the back bedroom, a wooden quilting frame was stretched across the living room where, during her free time between house chores, she’d meticulously mark and stitch her masterpiece. My younger cousin and I found this to be the most glorious fort and hiding place. Granny found it to be one of the most nerve-wracking times of the year. Between my grandfather’s nightly news and Wheel of Fortune TV time and our careless, grimy fingertips, the newborn pristine quilt was in a constant state of peril, and Granny didn’t forget it for a second. Yet, she was patient.

She was fastidious, certifiably tidy, and more than a little obsessive, but she was patient. And while I inherited her deep sense of satisfaction from a freshly scrubbed counter, a carefully organized cabinet, or a perfectly stacked pile of magazines, patience during sewing projects is one that passed me by. While I was busy sneaking her disappearing ink fabric pen and cutting my My Little Pony’s hair with her pinking shears, I should have been paying attention to exactly how she pulled all of this off. But alas, my sewing endeavors involve a great amount of cursing, the occasional throwing of objects, and a few secretive-as-I-can-manage temper tantrums. This is the world of The Angry Seamstress, where I learn to take deep breaths and manage my frustration along with how to do smocking and thread the machine without assistance.