The Garland! The Garland!

I am so good at starting things. Really good. I can start a project with the best of 'em. The finishing is a different story. For example, I have a really beautiful Kushu Kushu scarf that I finished in 2008 that has but one more tiny step (blocking) to make it wearable. I don't know what my problem is.

Given this personal flaw, I was so proud of myself for finishing the garland so quickly. I mean, I really turned that thing around fast. I made four long strands of adorable garland in a few short days! But then the blogging of it? That tiny last step? Lagging!

Editor's note: There's a good joke to be made with "lagging blogging", but none of them are really doing it for me right this moment. There's the Ikea-product joke. Too obvious. There's the Lagging, Blogging, and Hauser, how can we help you? law firm joke. Meh. There's the some-guy's-name joke. Buh. Sorry about that. Feel free to leave your best Lagging Blogging joke in the comments, if you'd like.

Anyhoodles, I'm just gonna post a few little photos. Dipping my toe back in. Breaking the ice. Taking the first of the last steps.

Oh, it's SO cute in person! I'd promise more details and/or humor, but I am not to be trusted. Clearly.

But look at that garland!! Aaargh!

(Thanks for sticking with me. And thanks to all of you who continue to nudge me... Much love to you.)

The garland begins

The next phase of the making of the garland...

Printed out the template onto regular printer paper. Felt a little chumpy about using the template since it's just 3 circles in ascending sizes, but let's be honest. I'm not going to figure out how to make circles in the designated sizes, so I'd best just be grateful they're giving this away for free.

Cut out the paper circles. Took a deep breath.

Noticed some thick cardboard poking out of one of the bags in my crafting room. Is it silly to mount the paper template onto this thick cardboard? Can I even cut through the cardboard with my scissors? Does it even really matter?

Oh, it always matters. Lest ye forget. It always matters.

Figured I might as well give it a go. Used some of my awesome adhesive that I use when making cards, adhered one paper circle at a time to the thick cardboard, and started cutting.

 

 

That cardboard doesn't look particularly thick, I realize -- it's probably 1/8" max -- but it still wasn't terribly fun to do in that it required using some hand strength. Delicate flower that I am, I prefer tests of hand endurance over tests of hand strength. Oh, I'll knit or hand-quilt for hours at a stretch, but don't make me squeeze something hard. I just don't care for it.

But I did it. And I'm glad I did.

 

It really came in handy later.

So now there I was, face to face with these three circles on cardboard and a pile of untouched felt. This is a place I've been before. I know it well. Somebody's got to make the next move. And that somebody is me. But which oh which move to make? Answer: The one that yields 200 felt circles being cut without anyone losing a limb or a week.

How about if I just hold the mounted template down onto the felt then cut around with my rotary cutter on my self-healing mat?

 

FAIL. This was impossible. No way to get around the circle well. Just blech. What's funny is that this was so close to the best solution, yet it would take me several more flings with fails to finally get there. (Flings With Fails might be a good band name, but I think it's really better in the "Flings featuring Fails" configuration, you know, the way all the hip kids are doing it these days. I am so cool.)

Then I remembered the tremendous success I've had with washable markers. Yeah! Let's do that! Washable Marker!

 

No. Let's not. What am I gonna do, cut this out and then carefully wash away the residual purple ink along the edges? For 200 circles? No. I am in fact not going to do that.

How about using something lighter like those Chacopel Fines that I won't have to wash off?

Yes. This seemed to be going well -- tracing around the template with the pencil, then cutting the felt circle out with my fancy scissors. (Eeep! If you follow that scissors link, there's a futuristic looking seam ripper they've got going on that looks like no joke. Whoo-eee. What will they think of next?!)

So, after about an hour of tracing and cutting, here's what I had:

Seventeen circles and the sinking feeling that this was not the best way.

Also! Friendly tip!

In case you're thinking that you like this pencil method and that you'd be able to speed through it more quickly than I would, fair enough. But be warned: using the handy Chacopel brush to get rid of the marks you've made en-fuzzens the edges, because that's what happens when you BRUSH felt. If you decide to leave the marks on to keep your edges intact, the whole thing will look faded and crappelle. But to each her own. Do what you must.

Gee, if only there were some way to mark the fabric without leaving some visible residue.

The Hera marking tool! Makes a crease rather than a mark! Oh, right. FAIL. Can't get around the circle well. Can't see the crease. I made a crappy mark and a crappy circle. So sleepy.

In the process of trying to clean up the mess that this method made, I held the cardboard template against the felt between my thumb and forefinger of my left hand and used the scissors in my right hand. Turning my left hand in a circular motion while keeping the scissors relatively stable, I zipped around that thing so fast I think I actually laughed out loud. 

At the two hour point, I had this many:

And by the next morning, I had all the circles I needed:

200 circles... plus a few to grow on, just by holding the template in place against the felt and cutting around it with scissors.

The fact that the cardboard was thick meant I wasn't shaving slivers off of the template as a cut around it, so I do recommend a thick mount. (Oh, get your mind out of that gutter, pervs!)

I found the whole thing quite soothing and fun in the end.

I'd like to think that my process of discovery here can help someone out there. Not only does that make me a super-helpful blogger friend, but it also keeps me from having to admit that I may very well be the slowest kid in craft school.

Next step: Sewing!

Wool. Felt.

I remember! I remember! Crafting is SO fun!! Aaaargh!

Ok. So. Big Alice really hooked me up. The other day when I wrote about my longing for some affordable wool felt, she left a comment real casual-like about how maybe I should try this place.

(I'm realizing this post may turn into a gush-fest, so you might want to put some galoshes on.)

Over at this place, the wool felt is totally affordable. Not only that, they've done you the giant favor of making color bundles for you. Really adorable bundles! In adorable colors! So many great combinations, it was all I could do to order just one. I have my prudent and wise mind to thank for this.

You've never ordered from them before, and neither has Big Alice. You don't even really know how you feel about wool felt. Yes, the colors are great. But let's just take this slow.

But also? Right next to the bundles? Embroidery floss. Floss that coordinates with the wool felt bundles. They went all Garanimals on my ass! No agonizing over which color goes with which thing. All I had to do was pick the color combos I liked the best.

Dude, slow down. Yes, they've done you the giant favor of making everything go together. But, to reiterate, you don't know how you feel about wool felt. And your plan is to make garland with this felt. Nowhere in the garland recipe is embroidery floss called for. Slow your roll.

So all I did was order the Carnival bundle. That was it. I showed restraint. I was testing it out.

And then it got to my house super fast!

Just because it got to your house really fast doesn't mean you should go right back on there and get more! You haven't made anything with it. You just took it out of the box! Your ability to be wowed is really remarkable. Really.

But look look! 

Is this not the perfect bundle for the garland?! I say yes! Perfect! And it's the perfect excuse to go into that room that I'm trying to make into a craft room and get crafting!

Oh! The excitement is almost too much to handle! I will push unpacked boxes aside. I will find extension cords. I will properly install the new lamp that my Sidekick bought me, and I will officially get crafting!

Way to show restraint in this post. You and I both know you have already begun sewing the garland and that you have photos of the whole hilarious process, and yet you are doling it out across several posts. Prudent. Wise. Stay strong, crazy lady. Stay strong.

I forgot

In the time I've been away from crafting, I've managed to completely forget some pretty fundamental things. How to thread my sewing machine. Where I put my knitting patterns. Things like that. But there are three really big things that I should've remembered but didn't, until today:

1. There are * a billion * beautiful items to make out there in the world.
2. The Purl Bee is a source of many of those beautiful items.
3. Purl wants all of my money. ALL of my money.

So, I want to make this garland, right?

 

Photo from The Purl Bee

Yes, yes. We all want to make this garland. Well, it's a MILLION dollars. So if you have an extra million lying around, this is the project for you. It calls for 10 colors of wool felt at $ 8.50 a pop. That's eighty-five dollars, y'all! For garland! For adorable garland, sure, but ow-wee.

I really want to make it, though. So I thought I'd be all clever and do some bargain shopping for wool felt. I figured it was worth a try.

First, I tried this place. Felt was a little less expensive there, but I couldn't really be sure about the colors. So, I couldn't pull the trigger.

Then I remembered that this place is right around the corner from me now. If it's good enough for the LA season of Project Runway, it should be good enough for me! I went there, thoughtfully looked at all the colors, carefully touched all the weights. Then, before I got in too deep, I checked the prices. Hey! $25-35 a yard! Great! Oh, wait. Not great. Not great at all. Still around the same price as my beloved Purl, I'm pretty sure. I left the store with the invisible thread that the garland pattern calls for, spending a whopping $1.92.

Can you imagine how beautiful my garland is going to be? It will be 5 strands of invisible thread draped from my dining room ceiling. It'll be grand. 

Harumph! The only thing that may save me here is a Purl gift certificate from a year and a half ago that I still have not redeemed. I could throw that at this problem and see where we get. But, really? Shouldn't there be some other way? (Please don't say acrylic felt. I'm so very afraid you'll say acrylic felt. Isn't it a fire hazard? Aaaaargh.)

This whole thing fills me with a gnawing, swirling, crazy mix of desire and trepidation. Hey, there it is! I'm pretty sure that very specific cocktail of feelings is the sign that I'm officially back! No matter what happens with the garland, it was all worth it to get to that.

After

Longest. Cliffhanger. Ever!

Did the orange marker wash out? Did the quilt hold up after a wash 'n' tumble?

Boy, oh, boy. Sorry to have made you wait so long for the answers.

So. Got your drums a-rolling?

Let's get on with it, then.

Here you go:



I have found a new love, everyone. It is Mr. Washable Marker!

Every last bit of orange ink came out! This, even after having been on the quilt for two weeks or so. Not a trace of it was left after the machine-wash in cold water. (I don't know how much to credit the two color catchers I threw in with the quilt, but that's neither here nor there.)

The quilt looks great.

It was delivered to the mama four days before the baby's arrival, so I'm hoping it's already being put to good use.

Specs:
Fabric: Katie Jump Rope by Denyse Schmidt for Free Spirit.
Pattern: Rail Fence blocks with my own border added.
Batting: Couldn't tell you. Some batting I found in my closet. It's thin-ish.
Assembly: Machine-pieced, birthed, then hand-quilted with Coats & Clark poly/cotton hand-quilting thread in color 256 (natural).

Hooray!

Next time I'll give you the List of Excuses, Reasons, and Nonsense that attempt to explain my long absence. (Nothing major, I promise.)

Big hug to you all!!

Before

Now that you know about my torrid but brief affairs with various marking tools, I think you can handle some details about my current relationship with the washable markers. I've been silent on it thus far because we've been in the wait-and-see period. And while we aren't out of the woods yet (I don't know if it's really gonna wash out), I thought I'd let you know how it's been going.

I will admit that I had this idea that using markers on my quilt would inspire an unprecedented hand-quilting speed. I really did. I figured I would be fueled by a strong fear of ruining the whole thing by leaving the marker on too long. Well. Turns out I'm not inspired by fear. Good news in life. Maybe not such good news here.

I am very close to being done, though, and I will give you all the details in the "After" post. But in the meantime, I thought you might appreciate this little marking detail:


Let me give you a closer look:

This is the "wait, wait" portion of the marking. "Wait, wait, that's not the curve I want. No. Wait, wait. That's better. No. Wait. There!"

Isn't it gonna be hilarious when that orange marker stays on the quilt permanently? No, right? Do you think I could blame the baby for it somehow? No! What kind of monster am I that I would even think of such a thing?! Seriously. It's a baby! Hmmm.

How about this? I'll say it's a new trend in quilting. In baby-quilting in particular. Having lines drawn on it like that takes the pressure off the kid and the parents to keep the quilt in pristine condition. That's it! That's what I'm going with if this shit doesn't come out.

I hope you'll back me up on it.

Here's hoping this one works.

Dear Washable Markers,

Hi. We met at my PIC's house a couple of months ago. I was the one with the polka-dotted baby quilt who kind of didn't want to meet you, and ended up using you to draw the lines on the quilt so I could sew my quilting lines straight. Remember me? Yeah. I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I seemed stand-offish that day. I think I owe you an explanation for my cool exterior.

I'm sure you've met women like me before -- women who've been in relationships with other marking tools and then show up to a new tool with an "attitude" or whatever. Well, it's not you or anything -- I mean, you say right on your package that I can trust you -- it's just that I've had relationships with lots of other marking tools, and they have been challenging. Really, really challenging.

I know some tools get jealous when women talk about their exes, but I think without a frank talk about what went wrong and what went right, we're doomed to failure. So, given that you seem like you care about winning, I'm gonna give you the highlights. I think we might then be able to move ahead with a shared sense of understanding and purpose. Don't you think? I do.

So. OK. This guy:

This guy was really sharp, and I had lots of hope for the relationship because of that. But turns out sharp isn't everything. I tried so hard to make it work with him, but it was just a mess. Literally, a dirty, smudgy mess. He eventually ran out of lead. I ran out of patience. And I moved on. I don't want a mess. So sue me.

These guys:

I was with these guys in the early days. You know the kind: All enthusiastic in the beginning, trotting out all the fun colors, talking about how soft and versatile they are. Yeah. Well. They disappear. They disappear, and then when you go back to them, they make all these promises to stick around again. And guess what? They fucking disappear again. They are the reason Quiltie and I are having trouble to this day. Thanks a lot, Chacopel Fine. Thanks, but no thanks.

And then there was this one:

This one really broke my heart. Hera was her name. Some people I really trust set me up with her and gave her glowing reviews. "She's incredibly tidy -- no mess at all -- and she sticks around," they said. Only problem was, I couldn't see her. We made marks together, and yet, try as I might, it was such a struggle to be at the right angle, in the right light. I would've had to get reading glasses or something to make it work. I suppose I was simply too old for her. Sad, really. She was perfectly lovely, and I know she'll make someone else very, very happy.

So, I'm giving you a try, Washable Markers. I can certainly go without marking tools and free-hand my quilting; I started this latest baby quilt exactly that way, in fact. But I think having a nice, effective marking tool to help guide me through these circles will be a nice thing.

Just don't fuck me over by not washing out.

(If you don't wash out, mister, there will be hell to pay, I assure you.)

(Hell!)

Sincerely,
Dr. B.

F The Machine

I'm wandering around the living room, staring at the baby quilt spread out on the floor. I'm just about to start sticking safety pins in it to get it ready for machine-quilting.

I say to my Sidekick, who is innocently sitting on the couch, "Hey, honey. I think I'm gonna hand-quilt the baby quilt." (Yes. You read that right. Hand-quilt.)

My Sidekick looks up from what he's doing, thinks for a moment, then responds in a tone that I'd describe as concerned, yet intrigued. Kind of how I imagine he'd react if I told him I was going to tile our kitchen with diamonds. "Why? "

"I think it'll look better than if I machine-quilt it."

"Sure." This he says in a very supportive, but still concerned way.

"It will. I can't hand-tie it like Ashley said to do. I'm too scared the baby will choke on the ties."

"We don't want that."

"And I think I want to quilt it with circles or swirlies like I did with my SIL's heating pad cover."

"That did look good."

"So, good idea, right?"

He nods silently and looks off into space for a moment. I figure he's probably thinking about all the good ideas I've ever had, how amazing they've all been, and how in awe he is of me and my good ideas. Then, he looks at me with a twinkle in his eye and asks, "When's the baby due?"

He was thinking of all my good ideas, alright -- every last one that took every last minute of exactly twelve hundred years.

And with that, the deal was sealed.


I am a multi-problemed individual.


Since the baby is due well before February of 3208, I'd ask that you wish me luck in this endeavor.

Note: For those not familiar, the (cleaned-up) title of this post comes from this movie, the source of about half of what we say on any given day around here. The title is not, as it might appear, a direct attack on my fancy sewing machine. I love you, fancy sewing machine.

Of borders and backings

Quilt top (on over-sized batting) you've seen before.

ME (on the phone with my Partner-In-Crime): I finished the quilt top for that baby quilt.
PIC: That's so exciting!
ME: Now I just have to figure out how to finish the whole thing.
PIC: That is not at all exciting.
ME: I know, right?
PIC: Right.
ME: Oh, shit. I think I have to make borders for it.
PIC: Why?
ME: Otherwise the blocks will just run right into the edge, and it'll look fucked up. And I think you're supposed to do it for stability maybe, too. I don't know.
PIC: What does the pattern say?
ME: There is no pattern, really. I just got the Rail Fence block pattern from this site that has a million quilt block patterns on it.
PIC: Hmm.
ME: And I wasn't really thinking about the borders part.
PIC: I don't know what to tell you.
ME: At first I was thinking I could just do the birthing thing and be done with it, like I did with that last baby quilt.

Finished baby quilt you've never seen before.

PIC: That looked really good. Do that.
ME: That was different, though. That was just two pieces of fabric stuck together, and this is a bunch of pieced blocks. I don't think it'll look right if I just sew the back to it.
PIC: But it would be quicker.
ME: Yes. It would. But--
PIC: You know what I'd do.
ME: Grrrr.

As you might imagine, I tried approximately twenty-nine solutions to this "finishing" dilemma, starting with trying to find the right fabric for the back of the quilt. I bought an orange-colored fabric and immediately hated it (too slippery), ordered an espresso-colored fabric (not slippery, but way too dark for a baby quilt), bought yet another fabric -- flannel this time ("too thin for quilts," said the Internet Genius Pool. Note: While I am very grateful for the IGP, I wish they'd been with me at the store. Woulda been nice, IGP, is all I'm saying).

I almost gave up at this point. Really. Almost.

But I kept at it.

I took lots of deep breaths and tried a different approach. Instead of focusing on the back of the quilt, which I just couldn't figure out, I tried to figure out the borders for the front.

OK. Now, this would be cute! The ruler is really cute for a kid -- kids like numbers, right? -- and the orange of the "64" will bring out the orange in the quilt! Yay!

Oh. Wait. That actually looks like shit.

ME (on the phone again. staring at the quilt): Dude. I cannot figure this out.
PIC: You'll figure it out. And it'll look great.
ME: Why are you mocking me? I am so going to ruin this whole thing.
PIC: You are not. Don't be ridiculous.
ME: You don't know. I could totally ruin all this work.
PIC: Good lord, lady.
ME: Grrrr.

My PIC is right about quite a few things in life. She is very clear that: (1) when stressed out, always consider directing the anger outward not inward ("Why suffer more?"), (2) when feeling twitchy, strongly consider using pharmaceuticals ("Why suffer more?"), and (3) when thinking you're going to ruin something, remember that you're not actually going to ruin anything ("It's crafting.").

I did, eventually, figure it out.

From each of the fabrics, I cut long strips that, when finished, would each be half the width of the strips in the main body of the quilt (finished strip widths were 2" in the blocks and 1" in the border).

And then -- riding the high of what appeared to be a border-making success -- I took that slippery orange fabric that I'd originally hated and birthed that quilt like no quilt had ever been birthed before.

And what do you know? I haven't ruined it yet.

(Please note: I still have to machine-quilt it. Still plenty of time for ruining. Er, I mean, directing my rage outward and taking some tranquilizers.)

It all adds up.

I have some theories about relationships (and by some, I -- of course -- mean many). Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you, I take this relationship shit seriously. For real.

So today, on a day that's traditionally more mush than pragmatism, I'm gonna bring it: one of the ideas that I hold sacred about relationships. It's not mushy. In fact, it's the opposite of mushy. It's actually really clear. And I'm gonna illustrate my points by using sewing examples. Because I am A NERD!

So, here's something I hear people say all the time: "It was just a little thing, I don't know why we were even fighting about it. I should just let it go." And then they go on to talk themselves out of being upset about the parking spot or the remote control or the tape on the gift wrap.

I never hear anyone say: "It was just a little thing, I don't know why we were gushing over it so much or why it made us so happy," and then talk themselves out of being pleased about a smile or a thoughtful question or a made bed. Never. Happens.

There are at least two ways to make sense of this, it seems to me.

1. The obvious: Lovely things don’t capture as much attention as not-so-lovely things do. OK. Yes, people are short on time, and they have to pick and choose what they pay attention to. Sure. But noticing only the crap things? Not the smartest time-saver, frankly, what with the fighting and the bickering and the debating and what not. (The what-not? Biggest time sink ever.)

2. The not-as-obvious: The little things are meaningful. They just are. I really believe that they're kind of everything. Whether they're little things that go against our preferences and values (and therefore irritate us), or little things that make our life easier or make us feel safe or pleased (and usually go unnoticed), all those little things add up to make a relationship what it is. I mean, really, what else is there? (Yes. Sure. The big things. But how often do the big things come up really? If we're lucky, not as often as the little things, for sure, and even the big things are held together by little things.)

So, to be clear: I stand proudly in the I Will Sweat the Small Stuff, Thank You Very Much camp. And I think it's absolutely critical to sweat it all with care and love.

Which brings us to the sewing.

From the Department of All Things Duh and On-the-Nose:

In sewing, all the little (boring) things you do add up: cutting the fabric, sewing the seam allowances, pressing the seams, lining seams up with one another. Oh, the list goes on. Paying close attention and doing all those little things carefully and thoughtfully can be a slog at times. But all of it matters.

Here you'll see I cut some strips of fabric. I sewed them together, and it's a block.

Just a block of three strips sewn together. Fine. Lovely. Whatever.

But here's what never ceases to amaze me (and also does a pretty good job of illustrating my point): If you attend to all the tiny cutting/sewing/pressing details with great care and thoughtfulness, unexpectedly glorious things can happen when you step back and take a look.

Holy shit. It all adds up. Even the tiny moments where it isn't perfect, where seams didn't line up or squares aren't square, are overshadowed by the bigger picture -- a project that was obviously cared for at the level of the little things. All the saying thank you and phone calls from the grocery store and sharing a funny moment from work and the genuinely-asked how are you's? Well, when you step back and take a look, you've got yourself a lovely relationship, sir.

Here's wishing you millions of lovely little things in all your relationships!

(Consider yourself lucky you got the "little things in relationships" post, and not the one where I discuss how this


is also this

from another perspective.

I will take the romance out of anything. I tell you what.)

Pincushion

You know how when you haven't seen a friend in a long while and lots of things have happened in your life that you want to share, but there are so many things that it's actually kind of paralyzing, so you procrastinate and never make plans with the friend because it's too overwhelming, even though you want to see them and share the stuff real bad?

No?

That's just me?

OK. So be it.

I think my delays in posting are related to how many finished items I'd like to share, and I also want to tell you about my fancy sewing machine. And. And. And. I haven't posted.

So, in the interest of keeping things moving, I'm gonna go with simplicity. (I've gotta start somewhere.)

I made a pincushion.

It's made of small scrapules of fabric.

It has embroidery floss wrapped around it.

It isn't as poofy as the pattern recommended.

I refrained from over-stuffing because, in the photo in the book, it looked like the pincushion was literally bursting at the seams. (My PIC and I couldn't figure out why a photo showing those flaws would make the final draft of a book. But what do we know? Do we have a book out? No. Well then. I should just shut it. ...Do you hear that? It's me. Shutting it.)

Pattern: Kelly's Pincushion. From Last-Minute Patchwork + Quilted Gifts.
Fabrics: Broadcloth-weight fabrics (again, to help minimize the chances of seam-bursting).
Floss: DMC embroidery floss in some crimson color.
Pins: Clover Flower Head Straight Pins.
Sewing machine: Waffle-maker 3000.

I think we've taken a nice first step here, people. I'm optimistic. Creaky and slow-moving, but optimistic.

Bedwarmers

So, my back went out on Day 2 of the family visit this year. And not just let-me-take-some-Advil-and-we'll-be-good out. But boo-hoo-you're-gonna-have-to-put-my-socks-on-for-me out. And also things-were-kinda-improving-until-I-sneezed why-did-I-get-so-cocky out.

Ok. Fine. It is what it is. Lucky for me, I have a loving family who is not only understanding but is also insistent on comfort at all times. This is truly a blessing. (Hydrocodone is also a blessing. It won't rub your back and tell you it loves you, but it will quite willingly take the edge off.)

I was of many minds about the whole thing. I took it as a sign that I needed to slow down and as a reminder of the importance of flexibility (both literal and figurative). I was reminded that stress will sneak up on you whether you like it or not. And I also remembered that it's hard to stay fully engaged when you're in pain/on painkillers, even if you're really wanting to be engaged.

We were all handed an exercise in balance because of it, and I think we fared just fine.

One of the hilarious parts of the ordeal was that, in the midst of this fuzzy-brained, stabby-backed situation, I decided it would be a good idea to go buy a sewing machine.

What? Why not? I'll tell you why not. Because fully medicated, I was easily persuaded by the aforementioned loving and understanding people to accept a gift of one of the fanciest sewing machines in the world.

That whole excursion is worthy of its own post, and its own post it shall get.

What I really wanted you to see were the rest of the bedwarmers. (The Rest of the Bedwarmers is also a lovely modern dance I've choreographed and will be performing once my back is all better -- the dance has lots of bendy parts.)

This one was for my SIL and brother. I made it well before Christmas, using the old machine.

My SIL and brother loved it so much, we agreed they needed a second one.

So, my SIL and I went through all of my fabrics and made this one together. We used the new sewing machine/super-computer/waffle-maker. (As I mentioned, I'm convinced my new machine is so fancy, it must also make waffles.)

Those bears kill me. Particularly because they're in the woods.


I'd like to give myself credit for the improvement in the sewing of the piping, but I'm afraid I have to credit the waffle-maker. In fact, I have a sneaking feeling I'm well on my way to complete obsolescence because of the machine. That's OK. I'm pretty sure it isn't very funny. And, as far as I can tell, its fabric selection skills are weak. Weak!

Pattern: Bedwarmer. By Ashley Shannon.
Fabrics: Some deliciousness from Superbuzzy that was on sale back in August.
Piping: Wrights Maxi Piping (Mocha 765 and Olive 590) bought at my local fabric store.
Sewing machine: Waffle Maker 3000.

Post-frenzy reveals

Remember when I sewed piping?

This is what it was for:

Please disregard the unfinished edges. They were totally finished when I gave this gift.

A bedwarmer for my mom - pattern brilliantly designed by Ashley. (Free pattern is here.) It's such a great invention. You heat up the little rice pillow inside, put the pillow in the cover, and put the whole toasty mess at your feet (or on your neck or head or wherever, really). Toasty and cute!

Here is the little rice pillow:

And another close-up of (my first attempt at) piping:

Not bad!

I went on to make two more bedwarmers that I will show you later. Just so you know, the fabric may very well be too much for you to handle. Consider yourself warned.

Other warnings/A peek at some information I plan on sharing with you:

• My back goes out more than I do.
• I was gifted a sewing machine that might also make waffles.
• If I hear one more conversation on my phone line that isn't the one I am having, I may give up on telephone technology altogether and rely solely on the Pony Express.

Happy New Year, everyone!