This takes every morsel of my concentration and determination, every ounce of my courage and fortitude. When it comes to that branch of the domestic arts and sciences that has to do with fashion, fabric, needles, and thread, I have little more than rudimentary skills and even less desire. But I do have a sewing machine, a 25+-year-old Kenmore that was bought when money was scarce and babies needed flannelette blankets, clothing repairs and rooms needed rod-pocket curtains. It was the best we could afford at the time.
If it’s a straight line with a straight stitch I can usually accomplish it, but only after spending a minimum of 30 minutes making friends with the machine again, figuring out how to load a bobbin and place it in the bobbin case, prepare the needle and top thread, then picking up the bobbin thread. Phew! And my palms begin to sweat just hoisting the machine out of the closet. And a straight line? Surely you jest!
After putting off the task as long as possible the day comes when I must tackle the sewing job. The trekking pants I bought at a store that does not offer petite (aka short legged gals) sizes must have three inches trimmed off the legs. With just eight days until we head out of the country, today is the day.
Actually, yesterday was the day, but the thread I pulled from my late mother-in-law’s sewing box was so old – I think it was one she brought here when she came to Canada in 1953 – that once set up in the machine it broke every few inches of stitching. So off I went to the shops this morning to buy new thread. Now I’m ready, again. The pant legs are pressed and hems pinned, the bobbin is in place and I’ve managed to thread the top needle – only swearing twice (okay maybe six times) – and now the top and bottom threads lie daintily out behind the gleaming needle. My clammy hands flutter over the stretchy fabric while my right foot hovers over the presser foot…
...April is sewing.
For the record, it took the sum total of six hours to accomplish this sewing feat including travel time to the shops and a quick lunch with a good friend, (lunch is included because procrastination is the road to success, isn't it?).I'm sure a practiced seamstress would have suffered a fit of apoplexy had she witnessed my efforts and final higgeldy-piggledy sewing line, but still, when all was said and done, three pairs of pants were ready for packing and no one is going to study the hem of my pants! If they do, it says more about them than me.
©2018 April Hoeller