When I was a teenager in a land long ago and far away, my dad bought a new Viking sewing machine for my mom with the caveat that I would inherit it someday. For the early 1980s, this was machine was state-of-the-art and could do anything but file your taxes.
It did all the basic stitches plus about three dozen more that I didn't even know existed and had no clue as to why you would use them. This, my mom said, is why they have sewing classes at Matzke's Sewing Center.
And I just realized I have dated myself seven ways from Sunday with that name. But I digress.
Mom and I faithfully attended the weekly classes for the six or eight weeks they were offered. Mom soaked is all up like a sponge. Me, I was teflon and absolutely nothing stuck. But I powered through because I was in the sewing project in 4-H and had taken a sewing elective at school.
I was...okay, brutal honesty here...I was barely competent, and that was only because I didn't have the patience to try and get better. The seam wasn't quite perfectly straight? That's okay, it's in a place that no one will notice. The old "it's good enough" mindset that I operate on most of the time was my enemy once again.
That was okay because about that same time, I met this guy and no longer had time for lame domestic pursuits such as sewing. Disclaimer: Captain did NOT tell me I had to give up sewing or any other domestic activity to be in a relationship. I just figured I had way better things to do than fabric crafts.
Fast forward a few years, and that guy and I are now married and living on his family's home farm near Pine Island. There is an elderly neighbor lady who geniusly uses the backs of worn out jeans to use as liners for potholders. Since Captain provided her wtih dozens of pairs of worn out jeans, we were the recipients of many of these potholders, and I loved them!
In fact, I loved them so much that when our neighbor passed away, I got the bright idea that I could take over that project because I would never run out of worn out jeans and I could borrow that fancy-schmancy sewing machine of Mom's!
While both of those things were true, I quickly discovered that I was still enslaved by that "it's good enough" mindset. I did manage to make a dozen or so adequate potholders that I think I gave as gifts one Christmas, but I realized that the sewing machine was much more practical in my mom's possession than mine.
I've talked about this before, but it's worth repeating. My kids were the envy of the playground because my mom patched their britches, not just with square denim patches. Oh no, she could do much better than that. Bigger's britches that had holes in both knees came back with a brown polyester baseball bat on one knee and a white cotton baseball, complete with red stitching, on the other knee. Molly's hot pink snow pants that had a hole in the butt came back with a green terrycloth pine tree patch.
She made beautiful heirloom quilts for all three of her kids for their wedding and for Bigger when he got married. She could make clothes, curtains, and Halloween costumes. She was an absolute whiz with a sewing machine.
That's why by the time the machine came to me when Mom had to enter memory care, it was completely worn out. I wanted to get it fixed, but the model had been discontinued years earlier and parts were hard to find on top of being insanely expensive. So the machine was retired and given a proper burial, and I put away thoughts of being the next Betsy Ross.
Then, several years ago, a friend was helping his parents downsize, and his mother had a sewing machine that needed a home. I decided that I had matured enough now that I could do a sewing machine justice, so I brought it home. When I opened it up and took one look at all the doo-dads and gee-gaws on it, I was immediately intimidated and put the cover back on it to wait a while to try it out.
I finally got up the gumption to tackle the potholder project again since I had a pile of worn out jeans in my closet that needed to be used. I bought some clearance sale cotton fabric and thread and got down to it.
Remember I said I took sewing classes at Matzke, did 4-H projects, and a high school sewing class? Yep, those were all decades ago, and it took me almost an hour to figure out to even thread the dang machine! The pride that I felt from accomplishing that was quickly doused when I realized I had to wind a bobbin and couldn't even find the bobbin holder much less wind the thread around that way! Luckily for me, the owner's manual was right there in the case and 45 minutes later I had a full bobbin of thread.
Then I remembered what the worst part of using a sewing machine is: threading the needle! I had trouble with this 40 years ago, and my eyesight hasn't improve any since then. Good gravy Marie, there has to be a better way to do this than blindly stabbing the end of a spool of thread toward a teeny-tiny space that is (1) hard to see and (2) hard to maneuver around. But I rose to the challenge and got it done with much gnashing and wailing.
I was off to the races. I had the fabric cut to size and pinned together, so I placed it on the machine, put the presser foot down, and stepped on the foot feed. I even remembered to backspace a couple of stitches to anchor the seam. I kept the fabric straight and was halfway along the seam when the needle broke.
So.Many.Bad.Words. I dragged the owner's manual out again and figured out how to change the dang needle, but now I had to thread the freaking thing again! I swear, I would pay someone millions of dollars to come up with a stress-free way to thread that stupid needle!
After successfully changing the needle and threading it, I made it to the first corner. I remembered to stop with the needle down so I could make the 90-degree turn to make the next seam. I managed to sew three side seams in neat, straight seams. I also remembered to do that back stitch thing again to anchor the seam.
I got the fabric turned right-side out and used a needle to pull the corners out so they weren't all bunched up and messy. I got the denim lining inserted and pinned down.
And then my brain just shut off. I was looking at that last side that needed a seam, but now the fabric was right-side out and I couldn't just sew the edges together...even I knew that much. But I couldn't for the life of me remember how that got sewed shut neatly without doing it by hand. That would be a deal-breaker for me.
Bring on the YouTube videos! I ask you...what did we do before YouTube?! It's saved my butt more times than I can count, and this was no exception. I followed the instructions and had a nice potholder! So exciting!
Then I decided to go rogue because apparently I know considered myself some sort of expert. Yeah...no.
I decided that it would be much smarter and efficient to attach the denim BEFORE turning the potholder right-side out. It was great in theory but made the corners so bulky that I couldn't get them to lay neat and flat to make a 90-degree seam. I had to settle--it was that old "it's good enough" gambit--for making a 45-degree seam at each corner. It turned out...okay, but nothing I was terribly proud of.
At this point, I realized I needed some sewing accessories if I was going to do this thing right. I made a trip to Michaels and got a cutting mat, a rotary cutting wheel, straight pins, an iron (which I have never owned in my life) and fabric. Now I was committed!
Well heck, I could do that! Except...once again going rogue...I sewed the double layer of denim to a 6x6 inch square of one fabric and then used an 8x8 inch square of a different fabric to create the opposite side plus the hemmed border. That one is probably the best one I've done so far but was much more labor-intensive than I had figured on.
Anyway, short story long, I am trying to channel my inner Mom and do neat, precise work that I won't be embarrassed to share as gifts. Wish me luck, and if I gift you a slightly wonky potholder, please don't judge; maybe next year's attempts will be better.
In the meantime, my delusions of grandeur are telling me that I could maybe attempt a small quilt. Stay tuned for that debacle!
