autumn-y cards

I use an old Singer Featherweight for sewing. I love my Singer. I think I will have to write an ode to the Singer. Wait for it. My Mom is an eBayer Extraordinaire and one of her favorite pastimes is finding attachments for my featherweight on eBay and sending them to me. Every couple weeks or so, I find a new little metal contraption in my mailbox. Hemmer feet, tucker feet, walking feet. And a zigzag foot. Now because the needle on a featherweight can't move, the zigzag foot grabs the fabric and whips it back and forth. Nice idea in theory, but the effects are rather inconsistent. And thus that erratic zigzagging you see above. No modern precision instrument could result in such wonderful wonkiness. A new reason to love my Singer.



A calmer design, reminds me of a leather sofa.



And a little line of pumpkins. Twin asked me what kind of pumpkins are brown and I told her, well, these pumpkins are brown.

Look at my new chair! Twin and I were walking to the park on Sunday and a lady was selling furniture on the street. I got it for $10. I love how people just set stuff out on the sidewalk here, often free to anyone who will carry it away. A new reason to love Brooklyn.

Mom has apparently found a different kind of zigzagging attachment on eBay. One which will be more consistent AND do scalloped stitching. For those times I want a little less character, and a little more precision. She says it should arrive in the mail this week. How lucky am I?

getting mothered (part one)

The gremlin had hidden my camera cable on top of my dresser. The gremlins in my house have an uncanny knack for hiding things in plain view.

Mom and Dad's visit was wonderful, if something of a whirlwind and over too quickly. Mom babied us as only Mom can and my fridge and freezer have not been so full in months.

Mother-daughter sewing occupied a large part of the visit, and it was so much fun to shop for fabrics and trims, unravel the mysteries of the sewing machine, and work on projects together. I think my Grandma was here too, passing on all her sewing wisdom and experience through the stories and advice my Mom shared.

Mom taught me to clean and oil the Singer. This machine was my grandma's and is about 60 years old, but still runs like a dream. I learned how to use all the attachments--dangerous looking mechanical contraptions that always looked to me like instruments of torture best left carefully arranged inside the box. But now I know how to ruffle, gather, make shirring (shir?), pin tuck, attach binding in one easy step, use my walking foot, and make buttonholes. BUTTONHOLES, I tell you. I am awed by the ingenuity of the Singer sewing machine and the people who invented all those gizmos. Yeah, I know we have plasma tv's and pocket-sized computers, but that's all run by some crazy magic. My Singer works by gears and sprockets that I can SEE running around all oiled and shining. This is comforting and more than a little cool.



My Mom is a fabric snob (in the good sense of the word) and was so excited to be able to find really quality goods in the shops in the garment district. I learned a lot about fabric and trim. And we bought a lot. (err, Mom bought a lot. I was busy profusely expressing thanks for the incredible loot I got away with) My fabric and notions bins are overflowing. They require a re-organization, about which I am immensely excited. It will involve custom fabric boxes and stamped labels, I think. Wait for it.



Dolly is a little Scottish lass, and ready for back-to-school with the little kilt and blouse Mom made. My Dolly is on the left, and on the right is one of my Mom's dollies from her youth. Dolly, Sr. must be pushing about 50 years old, so I'd say she's looking pretty good. Her joints are a bit loose, and getting her to stand up on her own required some coaxing. I love how the plastic has gotten shiny from all the years of loving. Check out that lace collar. How cool is that? AND she has matching panties underneath!! She's a bit too modest to show you, but trust me they are darling.

Dad joined us for part of the week and as usual graced us with his infinite patience, and even feigned a moderate amount of interest in the sewing.



Here's Mom and Dad whooping me and Twin at bridge. I'll blame it on lousy luck. I mean, isn't that about the worst hand you've ever seen that I'm holding?

Thanks so much Mom and Pop. So, when are you coming back?