Thursday, December 1, 2011

Insert all manner of curse words here

(Note: I am typing this one-handed, thanks to a nursing baby D.  Please overlook any typos.)

I am ready to scream.  My sewing machine has failed me.  Again.

A few weeks ago, I got my crafty little hands on a copy of the Colette Sewing Handbook.  (As mentioned on this blog before.)  I was instantly inspired.  I immediately decided that i needed fabric.  A trip to the LA fabric was in order!

Alas, caring for an infant, plus lack of funds meant that several days on the calendar flew by before I finally pleaded with dear hubby for cash and settled on making a quick trip to a M&L Fabrics in Anaheim instead.  There I found some great cottons for a skirt, and an okay gaberdine for trousers.  No nice georgette or chiffon, though, for a blouse or two.  So, a fabric district trip is still in my future.

With fabric, book, patterns, and notions, I was ready for the most loathsome part of sewing--cutting the fabric.  I hate tracing the pattern (a necessity this time as I want to keep it intact for when I am back to a pre-pregnancy figure).  I abhor laying out the pieces.  I cringe at the thought of hunching over the table cutting out pieces.  Worst part of sewing, no doubt.  It isn't nearly as bad when I've had a nice large surface at just the right height, but our living space is so cramped these days that I must suffer to use what i have--our dining table in our over-full dining area.

A few days ago, I began the dreaded task.  Got the pattern transferred to paper, pressed the fabric, readied the cutting surface, laid out the fabric and began tracing the pattern onto the fashion fabric.  But before I could finish, life resumed and I returned to my domestic duties.  The following day, between lack of help with Declan and volunteer obligations, I got nothing done.  Then it was grocery day--another day of no progress.  Finally a day to work--today!

I finished all tracing, pinning, and cutting.  Readied the machine.  Cleaned it, threaded.  Was able to sew a few darts and had just moved onto zigzagging the pattern piece edges when it happened.  The machine started skipping stitches, the bobbin tension was a mess.  I rechecked for threads in the bobbin case--none.  I replaced the needle--problem persisted.  I cleaned the machine a second, then third, then fourth and fifth time.  Yet each attempted to sew produced the same maddening mess.

I was nearly as unraveled as my bobbin thread!

See, for most of my life as a sewist, I have had to suffer with inferior machines.  My mother was a cheapskate who could not fathom spending more than $75 for a machine.  But this machine is not, or rather was not supposed be like any of those other garbage sewing machines.  I spent a small fortune on it, for starters!  And it sewed like a dream at first!  A true workhorse, just like the salesman said.

Last winter, I decided to sew myself a new bag.  I was working on one of the folded handles when I broke a needle.  No biggie, just switched out the needle and tied to resume sewing, only it immediately broke that needle.  A third needle and a bit of troubleshooting and I see that something is terribly off.  The hook tip in the bobbin case was not moving in sync with the needle.  Naturally, this meant a trip to the shop for a repair.

I was dispirited to learn that the repair was bound to take weeks--and it did, three to be exact.  While I may happily go without sewing for several weeks, it is because I chose to do so.  To be in the middle of a project, but be forced to wait weeks to resume left me quite dejected.  But once the machine was fixed and cleaned, I happily resumed the purse.  (Which ultimately turned out only okay.  Lack of satisfactory hardware meant that I was left without the handle I had hoped for, but that's fuel for another post.)

Point of this digression being, as my machine was in the shop less than a year ago the last place thing that I'd want to have happen was yet another problem with the machine.

As I was near tears, I begged dear hubby to take the machine to the shop.  Visions of my dissolving into sobs on the showroom floor persuaded me to stay behind with the baby.  I was so hoping that Brian would arrive at the shop, the experts would look it over and chuckle at how some silly something or other caused my problems, quickly fix it, and all would be right with the world.  But I also knew that the odds that it would be some major problem were more likely given my luck.  The last thing that I need is another forced three-week hiatus from sewing.

I am writing all this up know in the hopes that it'll somehow allow for the universe to smile upon my misfortune.  Perhaps in committing my frustration to ePaper, the Flying Spaghetti Monster or whatever divinity will look down and decide that I need a well-earned break.  Just maybe, events will turn in my favor.

Let's hope, shall we?
This bloke is ready to teach my machine a thing or two

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