Let me preface this whole blog entry by telling you a little secret:
I routinely talk to myself.
And this is usually where I get my kicks and giggles from. Not interactions with other. Not things that other people say. Not even things that I say to others. No, no, no, I laugh the hardest when I am talking to my self about stuff that just starts me giggling.
So, I sit down in our guest closet, to figure out the sewing machine the girls got me. I have had some experience on my mom's machine, but I realized today, that she usually loads the thread/bobbin for me before I start off. Let me tell you, the only saving factor was the illustrated manual that came with the sewing machine. So this is how today's conversation went down:
"Okay, hmmm. The manual says to remove the bobbin from the shuttle. Shuttle?!? Why the heck would there be something called a shuttle on a sewing machine?! Does Singer have a particular desire for their customers to BLAST OFF?" hmmm probably not.
"Yes! Got the bobbin loaded. But. Um. The thread is down there (below the, um, flat surface thing,) and I need it to be up here (above the flat surface thing.) So maybe I just need to load the bobbin differently. Let me consult the manual...........(flip page, flip page).......Ugh......(more page flipping) Grrrr, why doesn't this thing tell me how? I could just mess with it for awhile. ....... Nah... (email mom to find out how to get the thread about the surface.)
Oh. Oops. Found it. Thank goodness for that manual!"
So, this continues on for awhile. I apparently thought I was a sewing savant somewhere around Pg 32 "how to load the top needle," when, by luck, I get the thread correctly loaded with a few swishes of the wrist.
Now, if only I had some fabric to mess with. I could use some of my old t-shirts or something...
Nah. "HONEY! Do you have any clothes that need...um....repair?"
Perfect. 3 pairs of cargo shorts with missing buttons, ripped patches, or holey pockets later, and I have a mountain of clothes just waiting to be experimented on!
The buttons were no problem. I am a button master. For some reason, Ian's buttons are always falling off and I seem to always be repairing them. I think that's why he fell in love with me. So he can keep his britches up without a belt.
Now onto repairing the holey pockets. It WAS just one holey pocket, but then, when trying to get the extra button off of a pair of shorts to resew on, I ripped another pocket. So. TWO pockets to practice on. It was SEW easy! hahahahaha. No really. It took like 30 seconds.
"Honey!! Come see this!" he comes in leaving our dinner guest alone in the family room.
Ian- "Wow! Now I have a real wife!"
Yeah. As oppossed to the fake one you have had around you for the past month. Hmph.
Now. Onto the patch. You must understand. My mother sewed on this patch (okay, ironed, but she is perfectly able to sew it on, so I didn't want to make it sound like she wasn't) for Ian about 6 months ago. Since that time, one side of the patch has detached itself from the fabric. And Ian STILL wears the shorts. In public.
Did I mention the the patch is directly on the butt? Because it is.
(did I mention the machine is stored on top of a chest so I sit cross legged in front of it and use my knee on the pedal for now. weird. I know. But I just have to make do.)
So, I lifted up the little foot, and started pulling the shorts in. Only one problem. Cargo shorts have very big pockets. So big that it is a strain to navigate the shorts to the right spot. Bingo. Got it. So, I'm sewing, I'm sewing, when:
"Ahhhhhh! It's eating the shorts! It's eating the shorts! What do I do?! Okay, knee off the pedal. Good. Got it to stop making that horrible noise. hmm. Now how do I get it out of here?"
20 minutes later and a lot of pulled out thread, the shorts have been victoriously freed and I am left with a pair of still ripped shorts.
On to hand sewing. After all. My husband can't think he has a "fake" wife again right?
LOL. Well the shorts are finished and he is so proud, and likes the story of how they came to be. I hope you did to.