wienerdog tricks.

Gardening Apron. You need one.

So I made this gardening apron for a sweet friend and it's turned out to be one of my favorite aprons ever. C'mon. How cute is it anyways? Yeesh.

It's, of course, made from just scraps, really. The main panel is from a seriously-old piece of oil-cloth-ish material I thrifted; the ties are still-yet more fabric from my re-do of the army parachute pants; and the pockets are off a pair of my son's blown-out jeans.

So I've put together a how-to so that everybody can share in the gardening apron good times. Just click over here: Easy Peasy Gardening Apron.

I've made a small stack of gardening aprons (like this one for my friend who really wants to be a flower farmer) from that wonderful book A is For Apron--which, if you don't already own or haven't checked out from the library yet, you really should. It's loads of fun. 

I've liked them, but found the pocket trickier than somebody just starting to sew would probably want to mess with. And I'm partial to the wrap-around-the-front tie. And also, I like to cut up and re-use clothes. So, this is my version. Kudos to the other one too. 

Plus--how fun is it to use old jeans? Especially in a way that maybe doesn't scream I USED OLD JEANS (which is always my beef about projects that use old jeans.) This little number is the perfect storm of Refashion and Scrap Use, my two favorite Sewing Categories.

Go make one, eh?

Proof That We Went Camping.

We're off.

Heading for some bliss in the Sierras--going to spend the next week camping together. Hoping to do lots more of this (like we did on our first camp-orama a couple of weeks ago):

 

Am taking along a wonderful stack of refashioned t's and skirts as part of my super-cheap-super-hip camping wardrobe and am just going to wish I had a solar-powered sewing machine with me so that I could make more things into other things. How fun would sewing-under-the-trees be? Dangit.

 

P.S. If you've thought about going off the retail grid for a short stretch, Wardrobe Refashion is in a sign-up window right now. Check it out.

I did this to a Turtleneck.

I really like the fabric, so I cut it up. I turned this: 

 

into this:

and then, best of all, this...

 

(What else do you do with the turtle part?)

 

But I won't lie. I did kind of a crummy job. The stretchy lycra-ish tshirt fabric cardigan is completely wonkified. And while I'm tempted to wear it anyway and just look confident, I know I shouldn't. So I'm annoyed. Am hoping my refashioning friends give me some tips. I tend to love to sew with impossibly slippery, stretch fabrics. Sigh.

 

And all of this is really just proof that I'm cutting things up and sewing them together. (Here is my current Ready To Refashion basket.)

 

 

But it speaks more to my frankensteining tendencies than it does to gobs of success--I'm destroying about half of what I'm going at. Have supremely botched at least 47.8% of the perfect-to-tailor t's I'm finding for 2 bucks at thrift stores.

 

I'm GOING to write up some sort of magical tutorial for tailoring t's. So far I found this and I like it, but I have a manic fear of pins, so I'm working on some sort of magical measure + add diy pattern somethingish tutorial thing. 

 

And yes, having a manic fear of pins when you like to sew is like having a manic fear of water when you like to surf, but I don't want to talk about it.

Let's talk about Art and Saying.

First, everybody show know about what my friend Anthony is doing with found car parts. His work makes our use of that much-loved upcycle term we like to throw around seem really not quite all it could be. I like the word of Re-Make. Or maybe with have to go with Calvin's Transmogrify. 

I'm thinking about him in part today because I'm still chewing on that How do you have time for that? question that I was kicking around last week--and that some of you were bitchin enough to kick around with me--and I see Anthony and his family living the Making Life that I keep talking about. Being near them this year has cheered me on to keep at my own Making. And we've had some great conversations about what art is supposed to do. What it's for.

 

So, I'm going to live on the edge and offer up a piece I wrote a few years ago about the poetry writing that I've done for many years. I'm just going to paste in the big fat document. And if you don't write poems but you do make quilts or tote bags or re-make old shirts into new dresses or like to glue bottle tops to things or find yourself carving wood or building renaissance palaces out of sand or knitting things with tiny thread, then you get this question too. Just substitute your own Making for the word poetry. Here it is . . .

 

What Is Poetry For?

 

About ten years ago I went unsuspectingly to my mailbox and found an acceptance letter for my first published poem with a check for $50 dollars--and, in the same stack, a letter from the IRS telling me I owed $500 dollars in back taxes. (What, exactly, they thought they were taxing is still a mystery to me, as I was a two-part-time job/living-on-student-loans graduate student at the time.) Questions of taxability aside, this was the moment I first asked the question: “What is poetry for?”

 

Stay with me. I’m about to talk about something you think you know about completely. I’m thinking of the Inuit people—all of their 7 gajillion words for ice. A well-studied linguist will tell you that all those words are a true proof of the ever-changing, always-adapting nature of language.

 

I say that’s not all. I say those really not 7 gajillion but 200 words for ice (or 15 if you’re some guy from the University of Texas—but 15 is still more than we’ve got and if you ask me the guy is a linguistic pessimist). I say all those words are the proof of the thing that drives the poet--Saying.

 

I don’t marvel that Eskimos had lots to say about ice. I do marvel that they kept trying to say and didn’t stop after ten or 12 words. They kept saying: ice that’s melted, ice that’s melted and refrozen, slippery ice, stinging ice, slushy ice, powdery ice, squared ice, ice with flavoring,  the shiny thing about ice that makes you squint, the hot-coldness of ice on your tongue. They just kept at it because there was so much to say about ice. That passel of words is a tribute to Saying.

 

And more than an indicator of how much there was to say (because they could compound the pieces of their language in a way that English doesn’t let us, so they could describe intricate differences with a single—maybe really long, but still single, word) those 15 essences or roots of that one word ice that turned themselves into those 200 words make me think they wanted to keep saying. They wanted to keep saying about something that was in front of them in every direction they looked—under their feet, out along the horizon, over their sheltered heads at night , in their tea, between their toes if they weren’t so lucky, somewhere a couple of layers of warm fur down below their backs as they slept—all around.

 

I’m no linguist, but I say they kept talking about ice because it kept being around.

 

I know how they felt. I’m looking under my feet, out along the horizon, over my head at night, in my tea, between my toes, below my back as I sleep—and I’m saying. I’m just going to keep saying. Because the ice of my life just won’t melt. So I have to keep saying.

 

I hear the voice of my writer friends in my ear as I write: “Are you saying that the end-quality of the poem is only a secondary consideration to the poet’s experience of writing it?—that a bad poem is as good as a good poem?

 

Well, of course I’m not saying that. I keep working to write good poems so that I believe them myself. Saying is only as good as it is believable. When I say my life, I hear my life; when I hear my life, I start to believe that it’s all real.

 

 And that’s what poetry is for, if you ask me. Not the said—the Saying.

Winner! (Another one.)

Lucky #23 gets the orange polyester prize. Everybody high five her. She's got real tote bag style now. Happy Tote Bag Style. A happy somebody at 2 hippos is the lucky tote-er.

And if you didn't win, don't feel sad. Like I keep saying. Just make one.

And this, of course, is in big celebration of SEWN, the all-new, all-terrific website. (Which is supposed to be up and ready to be clicked later this week--Tuesday or Wednesday-ish they're saying. Hey--it's up and running! And I have to say: nifty. Go check it out.) I would like to add that it is now my favorite sewing site because I actually won something too. A pattern from here. Score!

5 shirts, a fleece, some rooster fabric and Viagra.

True story. I scored today: look at this whole hoard of goodies . . .

I'm going to tailor the men's t's (more on that later) and that fleece too. And I don't know what I'll do with the rooster fabric. It's light upholstery weight, so it's going to change somebody's life when I turn it into something, that much I know. And then there was the extra joy of the bag they put it in.

Now seems like a good time to tell you it was a Catholic thrift store.

This just in.

BREAKING NEWS FROM MY UPSTAIRS SEWING ROOM:

I did it. And it's a Totally Reversible Mood Bag. One side for when you're feeling horizontal; one side fo when you're feeling vertical. Click down to here to enter to win (in honor of a promises-to-be-super sewing blog launching tomorrow, SEWN.)

Feeling horizontally? 

 

Feeling vertically?

Stamped again with the words USED IS THE NEW NEW.

Go enter to win this lovely chunk of polyester wonder.

How do you have TIME for all that?

I'm getting a lot of that lately. Like I say, "Want to talk about my new hobby of sewing for the next 45 minutes, wherein I will give you 6 reasons for loving old polyester and draw a map of local thrift stores on a cocktail napkin while you nod and glance over my shoulder for somebody else you know at the party?" And they say (about whatever rant I'm on about the importance of Making in our lives), "How do you have time for all that?"

And I'm wondering who else out there is hearing it, and I'm also wondering if anybody's responding with anything real. I mean, there's 

 

1) "Well, I MAKE time, because I believe my creative life is important."

 

But then I sound like a Mom Prick. And nobody likes a MP.

 

2) "Well, I never do the dishes, my kids haven't had haircuts, and I recently found the baby swishing around a thumb tack in her little mouth. Oh. And I don't volunteer in the kids' classroom.

 

But then I sound like Slacker Mom. And everybody talks about SM when they go out to coffee before their volunteering.  (And for more of the rub and stretch of that one, read on over here.)

 

3) "Well, my husband pitches in a lot with the kids. And around the house." [to which they look sideways at me and either ask or think "He's not annoyed that you're always SEWING?"]

 

But then I sound like She's Got a Perfect Husband Mom. And everybody really hates SGPHM because they think of her house like the Lido Deck of the Love Boat of Living.

 

The real rub here, though--beyond not wanting to sound prickish or slackery or overly-taken-care-of is that I really don't know how anybody else doesn't have enough time. And by that I mean Time. I don't know how anybody else is managing to do their Kid Life and their Husband Life and their Work Life and their Self Life without their Creative Life. And I really don't understand how our culture has sold us (and by us I mean the uterus-keepers) that the list is supposed to go:

 

1. Kid Life

2. Husband Life

3. Work Life

4. Self Life

5. Creative Life.

 

Or maybe if you're Oprah or the President of Ebay or an Ambassador to BosChiGoviaLand #4 goes first, followed in a dead heat by #3 and you may or may not skip #1 and #2.  

 

But why is a life Making a luxury? The more I Make, the more I believe that it's not a luxury. It's a life means.  I would even say it's a lifeboat means. It keeps me bobbing when a lot of the other stuff looks like wreckage.

 

And maybe that's why I really don't like the word Hobby. It just sounds too side dish to me. But there's another question: how did the meat become so much more important than the potatoes?

 

Gotta go because the baby really did just put a beaded bracelet in her mouth. (See Answer #2 above.)

Meet Ro.

As in Rowena. She's my sewing machine. This is her story. (Sew Mama Sew is asking. And when they ask, I answer. That's how that works.) 

What brand and model do you have?

I have a Pfaff Hobby 1132. And while I felt initially ever-so-slightly demeaned by the label "Hobby" I'm now over it. As it turns out, I do sew as a hobby. Who knew.

How long have you had it?

4 months. (I had two Singers before that. One from the 70's that clunked out. Another newer one that was uber-crappy that I got off craigslist for $45 from a disgruntled Naturopath. True story.)

How much does that machine cost (approximately)?

I got it for about $300. It runs around $400, but I hit my local shop's Super Bowl sale and scored 25% off. (And I know that $300 sounds like a lot of money, but you should know that even though I am a complete and total cheapie--I shop primarily at thrift stores, just so you know--I don't wish I had a penny of that $300 back. I've just loved everything about the machine. When I sew with it, I'm just sewing. I'm not repairing, re-threading, re-trying, re-yelling, re-swearing. Just sewing. And yes, all of those things happened to me on my other two machines. I can barely talk about it without flaring my nostrils and experiencing unnecessary emotions.

What types of things do you sew (i.e. quilting, clothing, handbags, home dec projects, etc.)?

I sew all kinds of things (lately aprons, totes, and lots of refashioned clothes)--all from thrift store fabrics (of all weights). I recently sewed right through a nylon army bag. No biggee. Overall, I find that I prefer knits over cottons. I'm a big fan of polyester in all its forms and of tricky t-shirt jersey material. They're both stretchy and fun to wear, just sometimes a little finicky to sew. 

How much do you sew? How much wear and tear does the machine get?

I sew every day (or pretty close). I'm not kidding. I have three kids and a job and a husband and a handful of volunteer work and still, somehow I sew almost every day. I really like to sew. I'm not manufacturing anything to sell, but I'm embracing a life full of Making and pumping out a nice truckload of gifts while I'm at it. The machine stays busy. It hasn't had time to gather dust.

Do you like/love/hate your machine? Are you ambivalent? Passionate? Does she have a name?

Love love love her. She's my buddy. Name's Rowena. I call her Ro.

What features does your machine have that work well for you?

THE very best thing ever (that I didn't even know about when I bought her) is the STRETCH STITCH. This stitch has made my love of polyester and stretch cotton a non-issue for me. And I am a relative beginner. Really, I am. I haven't been really avidly sewing for more than a year. And I dive into slippery polyester projects with confidence. Because of my stretch stitch. It's the answer to all my stretchy, slippery problems.

Is there anything that drives you nuts about your machine?

Nope. And I'm not just saying this. I'll admit that I'm still in honeymoon phase with this machine--and I had a rough relationship with my last two machines. (They were bobbin eaters.) But I don't think I'm on the rebound. I really enjoy using this low-end Pfaff because when I do, I'm sewing not fixing my machine (which is what I was doing all of the time before.)

Do you have a great story to share about your machine (i.e., Found it under the Christmas tree? Dropped it on the kitchen floor? Sewed your fingernail to your zipper?, Got it from your Great Grandma?, etc.!)? We want to hear it!

Actually, I did sew through my finger . . .but that was on the very last day that I used my last machine. Rowena was sitting at my feet, still in the box, and--like the Disgruntled Naturopath's Used Singer knew it was on its way out or something--I sewed my finger. And yes, it hurt.

Would you recommend the machine to others? Why?

Yes. Because I know it's easy to spend much much more money for a machine that does right by you--but I know also that spending less is a bad idea. There's nothing more frustrating than a machine that doesn't sew. 

What factors do you think are important to consider when looking for a new machine?

I think you've got to have a real face on the person helping you keep the machine in good working order. I bought a Pfaff in large part because my local shop carries and maintains and repairs them, so I knew I wasn't on my own in keeping Rowena happy for many, many years. Rob is going to help me.

Do you have a dream machine?

I'm using it. 

You've got another shot.

Updated: This party's over. I picked the winner.

If you're down in the dumps because you didn't win this:

--fear not. Turns out I've got more polyester totes in me. In celebration of the new sewing website SEWN, I'm hopping on to the giveaway wagon again. Come, um, hop on with me.

It looks to be a nifty jackpot of a sewing site. Plus it's out of Australia. And personally, I'm for everything that's out of Australia (Think Muriel's Wedding and Strictly Ballroom. C'mon.) Just leave a comment, and I'll draw for another bag on June 8th. This one's going to be orange. I'll post the picture as soon as it's whipped up. 

What should I comment on? How about telling me other blogs you like. I love going blog hunting.

And in the meantime, of course, if you're tired of commenting and waiting, just make one. They're cinchy.

Winner!

Thanks to the help of the random number generator, we've got a winner today. The happy polyester tote is going to Cassie.  Cassie says she'll fill it full of library books. High five, Cassie. Luckily, old polyester is more than happy to stretch under the weight of a hoard of library books. 

(And remember, if you didn't win, just whip one up for yourself.)

What a huge hoot this giveaway has been from Sew Mama Sew. (Thanks, guys--what a good idea.) I feel like I've mounted my sewing machine to the front of a SMALL WOLRLD ride-along boat and having been bobbing along this last couple of weeks. I haven't been many places in my non-blog life: I did fly to Munich once, spend the night in a hotel near the airport and then fly home the next morning. So all this international blog travel and visitation has been lovely. 

And I also found some great blogs in my own clicking around to win. And now I know what I'm going to do with this monster stack of ramikins my mom brought me on her last visit. So that was just all really fun.

Thanks that you all have dropped by--and it's just been lovely. I should have had cookies out on a plate. 

I will next time.