Sew Distracted

Tracing, Cutting, and Filing

I have finally cut the outer fabric for George’s vest:

First I thread-traced all the seams, marked the darts and put in tailor’s tacks as necessary.  I used to just put tacks along the seam line every few inches, but it seems that I am much more distracted now than I was when I was younger, so I spend a little more time on prep now, hoping to save myself more gray hairs later.

Although with quick projects for me I often just trace with pastels, which I can get in a wide variety of colors to blend in with any fabric, for a more detailed project on really good fabric like this cashmere and wool, thread tracing seems more appropriate.

It always seems to take forever.  The kitchen island, which is my cutting table until I get my sewing room reorganized with new shelving and a new layout, is a little low even though it is a couple of inches higher than standard counter height.  By the end of the marking my back was sore, and the difference in my stitches is quite noticeable.  I must admit it is better than the floor, which was my main cutting table for many years.

I always love looking at the pattern pieces on the fabric after the pattern has been lifted but before cutting.  It seems so full of promise:

After cutting; right front, wrong side;

Right front, right side with darts and pocket placement marked:

The back piece and lining are still to be cut.  I spent more time yesterday working on the sewing room than actually working on a sewing project.  I had piled up magazines and books and was out of space on the shelves.  More shelves are in the plans, and I know The Husband would jump right in and build something for me, but then we already had one go-round of the old  “form vs function” argument this weekend and I am loathe to begin another.  I am far more willing to wait and get what I want eventually rather than spend time and money on something which works but does not please.

Besides I need some control of my accumulated STUFF.  Eventually I plan on moving the cookbooks out of the sewing/knitting/fiber room, and I had to move some of them this weekend even though there is not yet shelving to accomplish this.  Unfortunately several projects are in line ahead of the bookshelves.  The cookbooks are now stacked on the floor along one wall of the guest room.  Hopefully mom will survive this over the Christmas Holidays – more to entertain herself with.

Here are the finished shelves with periodicals and knitting books on the lower two shelves, sewing books occupying half of the shelf above, with the remaining cookbooks.  A few leftovers are stacked up with the interfacing and other miscellaneous items.

A few projects in the works

I've finally gotten a little bit of steam up on the sewing front and have to thank you for putting up with me through the sewing slump that has been going on here lately.

I managed to spend some of the weekend on future projects, no sewing yet, just pattern work and cutting out but that is always a significant part of every job.

I made some alterations to the Fashion Sewing Group 1960 sweater set, not much, a small alteration to the shoulder line, and lengthening the top and short cardigan by 2 inches.  I had notes written on the pattern, which I had used, making adjustments on the fly as I cut, but that is always a dangerous path.  The day will come when I will read the note to lengthen and cut three pieces correctly and one wrong.  New pattern pieces are such a joy.

Of course after I altered the pattern I cut some fabric to sew up, a periwinkle cotton knit, very finely ribbed.  This will actually replace the periwinkle sweater set I made in the spring for the cruise.  I love the set but it has not held up well, less well than the other garments made from that same batch of fabrics.  I am inclined to think this is due to the severe biasing that I found in the piece of periwinkle that I used for the sweater set.  I was able to grain it up, but both pieces have to be seriously re-blocked every time they are washed.  Somehow the fabric has not worn well, probably due to the harsh treatment it must be given to make it look good.  Anyway, I will be happy to have a replacement.

I also finally finished the pattern for George's vest.  Where I had left it off, I had fitted the last muslin and pinned a couple of small alterations, telling myself "this will be easy, I'll remember what these pins mean".  Of course that assumption was based on the thought that I would mark the patterns soon; it has been a month and I looked at that muslin and wondered what the hell I was doing. 

I had to have George try the muslin on again when all became quite clear.  I then had to cut apart the muslin, transfer the markings to the last pattern draft.  Redraft the pattern to include all the new alterations and then alter the lining pieces to match.  It doesn't sound like much but it took me a significant chunk of the day on Sunday.

I am ready to cut again, first George's vest, and then a skirt I want to just whip out.  Now the problem is finding the time.  My plans to squeeze in some cutting time today were sadly misguided as It is nearly 10 and I have not gotten nearly as much done as I planned.  I could try cutting tonight, but considering that I messed up a couple of rows of Tesla at knitting,  burnt the potatoes and forgot to open the wine so I could deglaze the pan for the sauce for the Tournedos until after they were cooked, and then spilled my glass of wine all over the table, I think it is better that I stay away from scissors and all projects that require thought and planning for the rest of the evening.

LOST

Look over there, see that flash of color moving at the speed of light?  See the whirlwind of flying debris?  Books, papers, yarn, fabric; it all goes flying, spinning, unleashed in a powerful storm.  Is it a whirling dervish invading our house?  No?  Hear the stream of invective, the mutters and curses and crazy conversations?  Is it the Madwoman of Chaillot?    Do you hear the banging and clanging as furniture is upended, objects are hurled, stamping feet pounding on the floor?  Is it an escaped herd of elephants?

No it is simply Mardel.  She has lost a piece of her pattern. 

This is not the first item lost in the last two days:

First it was the double pointed needle, the precious ebony one that was being used on Tesla.  Five were in formation, working away.  The phone rang, the knitting was laid down, and upon her return Mardel found the fifth needle had gone AWOL, escaping silently into the house unseen.  Where could it have gone... only 20 feet had been traversed.  The needle was no where in between.  Under the cushions, inside the knitting bag, on the table?  No needle. In the coffee canister?  The fact that on one opened the coffee canister is irrelevant – we know the ways of missing knitting needles – anything is possible.  Despair...and then --Triumph.  Lost needle found, right in the middle of the floor, taunting its half-crazed mistress.

Next it was the coffee cup, freshly filled with steaming hot coffee.  How can anyone lose a coffee cup?  It’s not small like a double-pointed needle and yet lost it was.   A good half-hour was lost searching all the possible locales.  Bedroom, bath, office, desk, ironing board, washing machine, bookcase?  Where oh where could the coffee cup be?  On the table at the Husband’s spot.  Of course it was overlooked, it was assumed to be the husband’s coffee, that which has been tainted with sugar.  But it was not, tainted that is, and all was once again well with the world, well, almost.

For there our poor hapless heroine sat, coffee nestled between her hands, savoring the aroma and the flavor of warm coffee, when a flash of gray went by, a flash of gray trailing a gray thread with a touch of metallic glint.  Tabasco had taken advantage of the general mayhem to indulge her catly nature and had absconded with the Tesla sleeve.  Upon retrieval, all the stitches were intact upon 4 needles and the fifth needle had gone missing, yet again. Probably a different needle this time, more successful in “breaking out”.

This needle has remained lost.  It may resurface someday, perhaps unearthed by archeologists many hundreds of years from now, archeologists who will wonder about the many uses of double-pointed needles based on the many varied and obscure locales in which they are found.

Tesla had to be finished with one bamboo needle; bamboo, which clung to the cotton bits and made the knitting slow and tedious, but the knitting was completed anyway, despite adversity.

And this is where we find our heroine, driven mad by yet another disappearance, this time a critical piece of a pattern, a pattern “That must be made” not because any higher being has so decreed it, but because our heroine has deemed it so.

She recollects that she had seen the missing pattern piece, the neck band to a favorite top, the Fashion Sewing Group 1960 sweater set, which she was determined to make.  At the time, it had been most notably out of place.  She had reminded herself that it should put it away immediately and had thought that she had done so.  And yet, a sneaking part of her brain recalls that she might, just might,  have neglected her duties, saying “where can it go?  I shall put it away later.”  Oh procrastination, hand-maiden of the devil.  The piece is lost, never to be found again, at least not when it is needed.  The cutting will have to proceed in the probably blind hope that it will resurface in a timely manner.

Pre-Cycling

I admit that I can be fiber-crazed at times and knit or sew things that any rational person would instantly perceive as a disaster in the making.  In fact, even while caught up in the fiber-frenzy, the large, annoying, rational part of my brain is probably arguing this same point with the naive, optimistic, creative part.  Generally the creative process wins the battle and I plow ahead full of blind hope.  The rational side often wins the war however and gets to gloat in the end; nothing is quite as sweet as “I told you so”.

Chalk one up to the creative forces:

This was meant to be a sweater.  I didn’t really want to knit it, and I wasn’t sure what I thought of the yarn, but it was easy to knit and fast, and I found it in the top of my closet, already started and abandoned.  Had it been skeins of virgin yarn, not yet in the process of being a “project” I could have turned my back and sold it or given it away.  But no.  I found this project already on the needles, needles still intact (I had wondered where that size 15 circular had gone).  A started project has a life of its own.  It can be put aside but I have a hard time completely aborting it.  Aside from general fiber-frenzy the rational side of my brain was also caught up in its own little hell-hole, called the de-clutter-frenzy.  I HAD to finish that project.  The alarms were disabled; there were no stops in place.

Luckily I basted the misbegotten thing together before final seaming and was faced with the terrible truth:  that sweater made me look something like that B-movie classic, The Blob.  All hope was not lost however, the yarn was mostly wool with a nylon binder.  I threw it in the washer with the hottest water and the hardest cycle. Twice.  I did not machine dry it fearing that might be overdoing the process a little bit. 

The resulting fabric is quite nice.  There is nothing quite like recycling somethng before it is ever even created, call it pre-cycling.

The knitting is still quite evident but the piece has become a kind of boiled wool lace.  Here is a detailed shot; sorry it is a little fuzzy.  Dark rainy days are probably not the best time for this kind of photography on a very small point and shoot camera.

I think this would be very nice as panels in part of a short casual jacket perhaps based on a jeans jacket or Nancy Erickson’s 1962 jacket pattern.   Of course it would have to be blended with some other fabric.  I originally envisioned a wide wale corduroy with perhaps a cotton print lining, making the jacket essentially reversible, the wool felt as panels with its edges sandwiched between two layers of fabric. 

I don’t have any corduroy that color in my stash.  I thought I would check out the other options but, although there are several fabric in the right colors none of them were really compatible in terms of texture, feel, formality.  They did not make good neighbors.  I was ready to accept the lure of the shopping demon and head to the fabric store.

BUT...

I remembered something.  I have this wonderful embroidered fabric remnant I got a Britex a couple of years ago (4? 5?).  There is not quite enough for a short jacket and it too has been waiting for the perfect fabric complement to appear.  It is not indexed in my fabric file because you can’t capture this particular fabric on a 3x5 card.  It lives with the other unique and non-classifiable fabrics:

I think they will be a perfect match.  The total may be a little more art-to-wear and over-the-top than I would usually plan, but I think I like them together.  They have been sitting out overnight and no fights have broken out.  The combination is growing on me.  I need to let the fabrics sit together a little longer however; hopefully I will eventually start to envision how the jacket might actually look.  Ideas are beginning to trickle in but the flow is still quite slow.  I will keep you informed but it may be a little while yet.

Oh Glory Day!!  Threads, Vogue Patterns, and the Fashion Sewing Group newsletter all arrived today:

Be still, my beating heart...

Distraction #725

Although sewing is a distraction from life, and a very welcome one at that, life itself seems to offer an endless variety of distractions from sewing: the following is one of them.

Distraction 725: Housepainting
    Subsection A: foundation painting.

History: Having resided the house last year, and having admired how nice it looked, I could not help but notice how sad and pathetic the foundations looked in comparison.  Now foundations are not usually a particularly noticeable thing, but my garage is below my house and as one goes down the ledge from the front door to the garage the foundation grows larger, eventually becoming the front of the garage.  It is a typical foundation, concrete block covered by a layer of rough textured cement.  The color of the cement is fairly close to the taupe-beige shade we stained the siding and is not in itself unattractive EXCEPT.....

In that little word, except, lies all the problems of life.  I need to learn to ignore the exceptions, as in the house looks good except...  The jacket is beautiful except... I love the way that sweater turned out except... you know the problem.

The concrete had never been painted and was its natural aged gray color.  But it had crumbled over the years and in places the concrete blocks were showing.  In other places it had been patched, more than once, and every new patch was a different shade of gray.  It was not a pleasing patchwork like a crazy quilt, but rather more of a “I just can’t get it together” kind of patchwork, and since the garage and foundation are the first thing that anyone coming down my driveway sees, this unattractive feature had been preying on my mind.

The patching was all done over the summer and I had to let the concrete age until it could be painted.  Technically this could have been done in September, but I was doing other things then and am just now getting to the task

It is a sunny week with temperatures in the mid to upper 60s.  I thought I could prime and paint 378 square feet of foundation wall easily.  Easier said than done.  Mistaken assumptions abounded:

    1.    Paint coverage.  The primer said it covered 500 square feet.  I have 378.  The first can got me through 96.  Back at the paint store, the nice clerk said that of course for rough textured concrete that had been aged and never painted coverage would be more like 100 square feet.  Duhh.  I told the first clerk what I was painting, why didn’t he tell me that?

    2.    Painting rough concrete is very slow.

    3.    Painting is very hard on arthritic hands, especially when the arthritis is primarily in the metacarpal joints and first phalangeal joints, the ones used to grip the paintbrush.  I guess it had been a few years since I had painted.  I am much slower now.

    4.      Expect delays for unanticipated occurances like finding a hole under the concrete blocks running into the garage.  Gee I guess that’s how the rat snake gets in my garage bay.  Take time out to clean out, plug up, and seal the hole.  Wait for concrete and caulk to dry so you can paint it.

I suspect my entire week will go along something like this. 

At the moment, after spending hours painting the last thing my hands want to do is grip a pair of shears, or even a rotary cutter for that matter, so the cutting out has been delayed yet again. 

Perhaps it is time to clean out the sewing room.