Done

Finally.  It’s done.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wish I were able to follow a pattern without making modifications and adjustments and tweaking in different ways.  It might all be easier.  Then again, it might not be so much fun.  On this pattern, I doubled the amount of ruffles (because once I started with the ruffler, basically, I couldn’t stop).  The bag has nine yards of pieced and bias-cut ruffles ON EACH SIDE.

Of course, it made the pattern bulkier, but very touchable. Really. Whenever I walk past the bag, I just want to run my hands over all those delicious ruffles.  And sometimes I want to hug it.  (Possibly because it’s stuffed with a pillow).  I worried it would be too heavy, but turns out it’s just fine.

If you want to see it in person, stop by Sew Generously in St. Charles – any time after Tuesday Oct 9.

You may want to hug it too.  Or make one of your own.  The bag is modified from a pattern created by Kay Whitt in her book Sew Serendipity Bags.

I see a pillow in my future.

Some Things Never Change

I bought a new attachment for the sewing machine –a ruffler.  And I have been having a wonderful time.  I  want to add ruffles to everything I own.  Shower curtains, book shelves, pillow cases.  I’m hooked.  If I can see it, I want to add ruffles.  Right now, I’m working on a handbag pattern.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you’ve never seen a ruffler, you will get a kick out of it.  It is straight out of the industrial age.  To see one in action, check out this video.  I found it even more fascinating that this contraption hasn’t changed in over 50 years.

While at our church’s rummage sale a few years ago, I picked up a Singer sewing machine from the 1940’s.  Or the 50’s at the latest.  Now normally, I bring a lot of stuff TO the rummage sale and nothing back home with me.  But on this particular day, I bought an old sewing machine.  It came with a box full of accessories, and lo and behold, one of them is a ruffler.

Now, if you haven’t noticed, sewing machines have changed quite a bit since the 1940’s or 50’s.  Today they are complicated pieces of electrical engineering and computer design with sewing mechanisms attached.  They accept USB sticks. You can buy optional digitizing software. You plug them into a UPS, and make sure they are unplugged when not in use to avoid a power surge. They get software and firmware updates. They come with training classes and webinars, and their screens are in HD.

Yes, sewing machines have come a long way, baby.  But when I opened the box of accessories for this antique sewing machine I recognized the ruffler immediately.

See for yourself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apparently it’s hard to improve on perfection.  Some things never change.  Good to know that in some cases we keep what works.

On the other hand, on a whim I looked up “ruffler” in the Urban Dictionary.  Yup.  Some things never change.

How do you know?

I’m visual. The universe speaks to me in form, shape, color and sometimes font style.  I’d call it a subtext to reality, except that it’s not a subtext.  It’s the headline, the feature show.  And it’s taken me this long in life to realize it.

A few years ago, I took a local class about compelling issues, which included a video presentation during every session.  The video was mainly people talking, expressing their points of view and providing intellectual insights.  For whatever reason, the video director chose to periodically — sometimes in the middle of someone’s sentence — switch to black and white.

Now I’m sure this was done to get our attention and to make sure the audience stayed focused on the content.  However, it had the opposite effect on me. Whenever the screen would switch to black and white, the whole context changed.  For a few minutes afterward, I heard nothing, as the image took over and did all the communicating. I had to physically redirect my attention, and the sentences spoken in the interim were lost to me forever.

You may be visual too.  If you are, you know what it’s like to:

–Purchase a book because you like the font on the pages.

–Recall the sunlight streaming into the church, the look on the pastor’s face, the swaying of the choir, but not a word of the sermon. (Don’t worry, I read it online again later.)

–Know instinctively by the looks on your friends’ faces how things are going.

–Have a desk that’s piled high because out of site means out of mind.

How do you learn?  My husband and son are auditory.  If I ask a question at home, to heads buried in books, computers, TV screens or even conversations, both of them can repeat back my exact words.  They can quote characters from movies and cartoons and real life, having only heard a line spoken once.  Astounding.

Or maybe you are tactile.  I know you well.  I teach sewing and machine embroidery, and believe me, many of you are tactile.  You nod as we speak instructions, you understand when you watch the video. But until you are asked to perform the task yourself, all the effort just goes *poof*.  Performing the task, touching the machine, pushing the buttons, head down, hands working, is the only way to make it stick.

The truth is, we all use various combinations of communication and learning styles.  Most of us need to hear it, see it and do it.

The quilt in this post is a free pattern from Moda Bake Shop, made with Bella solids. I haven’t decided how to quilt it yet, but I’m thinking about a delightful chicklet-colored variegated King Tut from Superior.  I’m not sure yet about the thread.

I’ll know when I see it.

Adventures in Zentangles

I’ve never tried this til now.  In a project for work, we needed to create a few of these with the idea that zentangle doodles could be used for stitches or for machine quilting.

Drawing zentangles is a simple process from what I can decipher, though  I think it is supposed to be meditative. For me, it’s doodling with a purpose. Here are a couple of my zentangles, but if you are interested visit zentangle.com to find out more.

How crazy are these things?  The good news is that I don’t think I would ever sit down by myself to draw this way. Ever. Basically, you draw a squiggle line on a piece of paper and begin to doodle around the edges, letting yourself just flow with whatever line formation comes to mind.  If you feel like tiny small squiggles, great. If you feel like giant bold strokes, OK too. Miraculously, eventually, patterns emerge and no matter where I started, I was surprised by the ending.

Despite my original skepticism, I did find it calming. Like any repetitive task, it required just enough concentration to stay focused, but not so much as to cause frustration. And in a world where I spend very little time completely focused on one small task, it’s a refreshing exercise. In the end, I’ve created…well, I don’t know what I’ve created–something unusual from my hand and my brain.  Good enough for me!

Opening Our Eyes

Sometimes, I find the most stunning beauty right in front of my nose. Often enough, I’m sure I miss the moment, preoccupied with the trivialities of the day, the busyness of life. But every now and then a moment sticks, and I’m able to transfer, if not the actual beauty of a thing, than at least my interpretation of something I once thought was beautiful.

I thought I’d share a couple of landscape quilts. The first was from several years ago.  I seem to have an ongoing fascination with trees.   Living in the midwest, trees, sky and grasses are our landscapes. So that’s my focus. Occasionally, we’re lucky enough to find a bluff, or even a small hill, usually near a river. As much as I try to let abstractions come through, I still have a tendency toward realism. I’m working on it.

Last year, I met some friends for coffee in a coffee shop in a small town nearby. Quaint, cozy and lovely.  As I waited for them to show, I gazed out the window at the chilly November view.  I did a little sketch on the notepad I had with me.  That sketch turned into this wall hanging. (yes, those are my toes at the bottom)

Lately, I’ve been experimenting with Spoonflower. If you haven’t checked out this website, you really should. What a hoot.  You can download any graphic or photo and turn it into fabric —  a fatquarter, a yard or 10 yards, depending on what you want to pay.

I printed up a couple of yards of this fabric. If you look closely, you’ll see that this is actually a B/W picture of reeds and their reflection in a very calm lake. The graphic on the fabric makes a wonderful nature-inspired abstract. I’m still not sure what to do with this fabric, but I’ll think of something in time. For now, I just get a kick out of knowing it’s designed from my photo.

 

Who Are You?

I never knew my mother-in-law.

She died of breast cancer a couple of years before I met her son.  (www.breastcancerawareness.com)

She was a mystery to me–a woman in pictures taken long before I came into the family, a person my husband could not describe other than, “dark hair, not very tall”.  As time went on, he characterized her to our son as someone who could terrorize small children into eating their supper. “Eat it hot now, or cold for breakfast,” my husband would quote her as saying.

This always makes me smile.  Because while he remembers her as a mom, I’ve grown to know her as a person–through her quilts.

Now I don’t claim to be a Quilt Whisperer, but I’ve done enough quilting to understand the process.  And it is a process, you know: choosing a pattern or designing your own, selecting fabric, color placement, cutting, piecing, and on and on.  If you’re not someone who enjoys the process, (Are we there yet, are we there yet?”) don’t even start.

Yet so many choices are made along the way, that by the time a quilt is finished, it’s very much like a life story.  Some days, I’m so tired of the colors in a certain quilt that I can’t wait to be done with it and pitch it into a corner.  And much like certain books, sometimes I’m so attached to the work, that last stitch of binding is bittersweet, knowing that I’ll never recreate this quilt again. The fabric was so lovely, the process so fulfilling and the time of my life so remarkable, that I’m sorry to have it all end.

Even an ugly quilt has its place in my life.  I dedicated precious time, effort and creativity to bring it into existence.  Every stitch in every quilt tells my story.

And so it is with my mother-in-law. Her quilts tell the story.  Little by little, piece by piece, I learn about her by watching her grandson snuggle under a quilt made long before she knew precisely who would enjoy it.