I'm in love. So in love. With my sewing machine. I love it.
I really have no idea why my interest in sewing didn't spark earlier. Like, a-decade-ago earlier. You see, my mom is the master seamstress, the ultimate sewist. And being as objective as I can, I will say that really I haven't known anyone who can sew like my mother. I sewed a little growing up; in fact, I even made a skort for myself when I was probably nine or ten. But that's where it stopped. I think my mentality was something like "Mom can make anything, so why do I need to learn?"
Then once I got married and serious domesticity started setting in, my mentality switched to something like this: "Hold the phone! If I can't sew, how will my daughters ever have cute Easter dresses and first-day-of-school dresses?? If I can't sew, I'll never have window treatments!!" Enter the sewing machine on the Christmas list.
Now I can't get enough. I've been making my way through the book Stitch by Stitch: Learning to Sew One Project at a Time, and I think that, despite my late entry to sewing, I'm not a lost cause. (Though I do lament that I waited to pick up sewing until I moved to Oregon, 1,280 miles away from my mother and her patient tutelage.)
Since Christmas, I've made napkins with mitered corners.
I've made a knitting needle case. (I'm looking forward to filling it more, and yes, I do have a second size-7 straight needle, and some size-10 circulars are hiding in one of the pockets.)
I've made a knitting bag.
And it's reversible.
I've made an eye pack, which Josh was eager to model.
I have more projects in the works, and I'm itching like crazy to get to sewing clothes.
Sewing is just the best. Sorry, Mom, for not catching on eons ago, but I'm sure glad to finally be in the loop.