sewing

Sew and Sew Part 4

I went to a tiny high school. There were only nine in my graduating class. All the girls had to take four years of Home Economics, the boys four years of agriculture. I benefited from the sewing instruction. I was horrified to learn what my sewing project was to be my senior year. We were to make a fully-lined wool tailored suit with lapels, welt pockets, bound buttonholes, and set in sleeves. The skirt had side pockets and a set-in waistband. The other concern was the extreme cost of the fabric. I’d never sewn fabric that expensive, not to mention it would be an extreme stressor to my family’s budget. Somehow, they came up with enough money, forty-five dollars.

I was terrified to put scissors to the fabric. I measured, pinned, remeasured, and could finally could put off the cutting no longer. I had the teacher check every step. Each day, I folded every precious piece carefully and put it in my sewing box, terrified one would slip into the trash and doom my project.

My anxiety increased exponentially when my friend, Mary, folded her scissors inside her jacket pieces. She was devastated the next morning to unpack her project and found her scissors had cut a one inch slash in the right front portion of her jacket. Naturally, she was distraught. The whole class was traumatized, seeing her disaster. She had no extra fabric.

The teacher comforted her, assured Mary there was a solution, and showed us all the pattern could easily be altered to put a pocket with a flap on both sides of the jacket. The change actually was more attractive than the original design.

That lesson amazed me, increasing my confidence. I was able to go forward with less reassurance, competing my project with pride. I wore that suit with confidence. It was one of the nicer outfits I ever owned. Mary’s suit turned out beautifully as well.

From that point forward, I knew that if I didn’t have the skills I needed, I could research and get the information I needed. Sewing has served me well. I bought a sewing machine and made everything the children and I wore until peer pressure made them insist on name brand clothes.

This is the exact pattern I used.

Sew and Sew Part 3

Home Economics in ninth grade pushed me a little harder. I had to make a two piece outfit with a collar, long sleeves, and cuffs with buttons. That meant lots of buttonholes since the blouse buttoned up the back. The skirt had to have pockets, a zipper,a set in waste band and a kick pleat. It taxed me. I ripped out at least half my stitches and redid them. Sewing a straight seam is harder than it looks. To make matters worse, the teacher assigned a home sewing project with the same specifications as the in class project due at the end of same grading period.

The home sewing project was a bigger challenge since I didn’t have the teacher casting her expert eye on every stitch I made. In theory, I would remember all the skills I’d learned in class and practice them on the home project. Sadly, I’d retained little. I struggled with every step. Of course, I didn’t get right on it, so my meagre skills diminished as each day passed. That project was a total misery, but I did finally get a barely acceptable product turned in. I was grateful for a c+ on it.

A couple of girls in the class turned in projects made by their mothers and got A s. I was so jealous!

I wore both those outfits till they wore out. After I struggled through that class, I had sufficient skills to start making my own clothes, though I still had a lot to learn.

Sew and Sew

In the years after my big 4-H apron failure, I had little interest in sewing. Mother did take time to show me how to use her “new” second-hand electric machine enough to sew up rips. She was a barely adequate seamstress with only the basic skills to show me, even though she made most of our clothes. She avoided challenges steering away from fussy details.

Mother rarely took time for mending, so if I got a rip, I was on my own. Of course, I mastered sewing on buttons. I think one afternoon she guided me through making a simple gathered skirt on a waist band. The button at the waist had a wide overlap, making it ok without a zipper. The waistband had no interfacing to make it hold its shape. My stitching wavered. All in all, it was tacky and amateurish. It screamed homemade!

In the eighth grade, all girls had to take home economics. I made a flannel robe with a snap front. All went well till I had to sew braid down the front panel, covering the snaps. I had trouble keeping the braid lined up over the snaps. I broke several sewing machine needles by sewing too close to the edge of the snaps. I think the department was running out of needles, so my teacher did the last few inches. The robe was an improvement over the skirt I’d made at home with Mother’s help.

I was delighted to get a B on it, but I think the teacher had had enough! I wore that robe till it shredded. I felt like I’d learned quite a bit.

Sewing

I am so glad I learned to sew. From the time I can remember, I was fascinated with Mother’s sewing machine, an ancient treadle machine. It sits in my house today. It is still functional. It is the best machine to use for heavy jobs like hemming jeans.

My first dismal attempt was in 4-H. I chose a sewing project, a simple project I was supposed to enter in the fair. One of the initial instructions in the booklet was “Ask an adult for help.”

Let me preface this with, the fact that my mother was definitely not a helicopter parent. My project was MY PROJECT! The project instructions didn’t have any advice for a situation where Mother had a newborn, a severely overburdened budget, and no time or interest in teaching a nine-year-old to sew.

The prize-winning apron the agent showed us was of a heavy fabric like denim with perfect seams. It looked exactly like the one in the project guide, even down to the color. I imagined my perfectly executed project looking exactly like it with a big blue ribbon at the county fair.

As Mother held the colicky baby, I told her, “We need to go to store and buy material for an apron. For 4-H.”

She answered crabbily. “No we don’t. I have a drawer full of material Grandma sent.” She was always crabby when the baby cried.” I’m busy now. I’ll find you some later.” Though I asked three more times that day, I didn’t get fabric for an apron. The second time I asked, she sent me to dist the living room furniture. The third time, she sent me to hang out a load of diapers. I gave it up for the time being.

To be continued

Lessons from a Frugal Childhood

Some things you just can’t get away from.   Everyday when I got home from school, it was the same thing..  Mother met us at the door.  “Take off your clothes and hang them up.  Take off your shoes and put them under the bed.  Get a biscuit out of the oven and do your homework.  Then you can go play.”

I hated hanging up my clothes, preferring to pitch them wherever they landed. I got sick of hearing how much work went into washing, starching, and ironing them.  After all,  she had a wringer washer, clothesline, and iron.  What else did she have to do anyway? She was a mother, not a person.  I got sick of all that nagging about my shoes.  I didn’t always have time to go back and put my shoes away when I tried to slip out to play.  Many times I’d kicked them off in the yard.  Once a dog chewed one up, a disaster, since getting new shoes involved pinching pennies and careful timing.  Daddy got paid on Thursdays.  Mother went to the bank and did all her shopping Thursdays.  There would be no money till  the next payday.  A Tuesday shoe emergency messed up the whole plan.  Daddy also had to be dealt with.  When we messed up, she was responsible.  It rained on the just and unjust alike.

Finally, the point of the story.  Despite my best efforts, Mother’s teaching, or genetic input took control. The instant I get home, I change and hang up my clothes and put my shoes in the closet. If I had one, I’d certainly have gotten a biscuit.  This just isn’t right.  You’d think after more than sixty years , I’d get a break.

Worse yet, I have to be frugal.  I have to use it up. Wear it out.  Make do or do without, just like people were directed during World War II.  Paper towels and napkins are wasteful, so I use dish cloths and cloth napkins.   Buzzy went into a clawing frenzy  and scratched a hole in my nice bamboo sheet a while back.  He is not frugal. I couldn’t bear to toss those  beautiful sheets and pillow cases, so I am making them into napkins and hankies.  Bamboo hankies are $19.99 per six pack.  Bamboo napkins cost $19.99 per twelve. So far, I’ve made a dozen napkins and a dozen hankies and some sleeping shorts for Bud. There is enough left over for more several more hankies, napkins , dish towels, dust cloths, and doilies for embroidery.  I am sick of the carcass of those  sheets , but can’t bear to throw them away when all this costs nothing but some work.  I think I need therapy.

Pearls Before Swine

I am a slow learner but can get the message. Unappreciated gifts is “casting, pearls before swine.” I quilt, sew, embroider and crochet, can, bake and spent countless hours crafting gifts, expecting appreciation. Sadly, craftsmanship is wasted if people have no idea what goes into the work. Also, it is foolish of me to assume others share my taste.

Kept this for myself
The mom and baby loved this sweater

I made a red satin-backed baby quilt with alternating teddy bear and heart squares for a coworker. It cost me $100 and many hours of work. She liked it, I guess. She said, “Wow. I bet you could get fifty bucks for this!” That won’t happen again. I didn’t even make a photo. I think the one really surprised was me.

I’ve embroidered lovely items, only to never see them again. I saw a gifted quilt converted into a dog bed. Fido was so appreciative, I am working on another for him right now.

Some gifts, however, were loved. I have come away wiser.

This was very welcome.
Nice afghan!
She loved this!
I love painting pots!
My nephew loved this tote
I share canned goods if I know people want them. I’ve fed many people after natural disasters or family problems. So easy with a full pantry

This was gobbled up

Use it Up, Wear it Out, Make it Do, or Do Without

Some thing you just can’t get away from.   Everyday when I got home from school, it was the same thing..  Mother met us at the door.  “Take off your clothes and hang them up.  Take off your shoes and put them under the bed.  Get a biscuit out of the oven and do your homework.  Then you can go play.”

I hated hanging up my clothes, preferring to pitch them wherever they landed. I got sick of hearing how much work went into washing, starching, and ironing them.  After all,  she had a wringer washer, clothesline, and iron.  What else did she have to do anyway? She was a mother, not a person.  I got sick of all that nagging about my shoes.  I didn’t always have time to go back and put my shoes away when I tried to slip out to play.  Many times I’d kicked them off in the yard.  Once a dog chewed one up, a disaster, since getting new shoes involved pinching pennies and careful timing.  Daddy got paid on Thursdays.  Mother went to the bank and did all her shopping Thursdays.  There would be no money till  the next payday.  A Tuesday shoe emergency messed up the whole plan.  Daddy also had to be dealt with.  When we messed up, she was responsible.  It rained on the just and unjust alike.

Finally, the point of the story.  Despite my best efforts, Mother’s teaching, or genetic input took control. The instant I get home, I change and hang up my clothes and put my shoes in the closet. If I had one, I’d certainly have gotten a biscuit.  This just isn’t right.  You’d think after more than sixty years , I’d get a break.

Worse yet, I have to be frugal.  I have to use it up. Wear it out.  Make do or do without, just like people were directed during World War II.  Paper towels and napkins are wasteful, so I use dish cloths and cloth napkins.   Buzzy went into a clawing frenzy  and scratched a hole in my nice bamboo sheet a while back.  He is not frugal. I couldn’t bear to toss those  beautiful sheets and pillow cases, so I am making them into napkins and hankies.  Bamboo hankies are $19.99 per six pack.  Bamboo napkins cost $19.99 per twelve. So far, I’ve made a dozen napkins and a dozen hankies and some sleeping shorts for Bud. .  There is enough left over for more several more hankies, napkins , dish towels, dust cloths, and doilies for embroidery.  I am sick of the carcass of those  sheets , but can’t bear to throw them away when all this costs nothing but some work.  I think I need therapy.

 

Poverty, One Thing Money Can’t Buy

Old Mother HubbardLearning to get by was the best thing that ever happened to me.  Growing up on a farm, the second of five children, I learned responsibility, despite my best efforts not to.  We were all needed, just to get back.  With stock to feed, hay to make, gardens to care for, there weren’t too many idle moments.  That was before helping Mother in the house, Continue reading →