When you sew, or knit or do crafts of any kind, sometimes people like to come up with little tasks for you to use your skills. I used to have a quilt studio open to the public in Roanoke, VA. I dyed fabric and made art quilts and art garments. One day my landlord came in wanting me to do some alterations and repairs on a pair of pants. I told him, that certainly, I can do that for $20 and hour and I think it will take me about 2-3 hours. Happily for everyone, he left and never asked me to do repairs again.
But that doesn't work for spouses. In the 30+ years we have been married my husband has brought me various odd sewing jobs to do for him. These tasks have varied from putting a new zipper in a snow suit, turning collars, repairing a flannel shirt, to sail repair. Once he brought some dirt encrusted
THING in from the garage wondering if I might fix it on my fancy-smancy Bernina. That request got a resounding "No way!" But generally, I try to accommodate his requests.
This was an unusual week. I received two sewing requests. One was a dust cover for the new Yamaha electronic keyboard. I tried to pass off some gnome fabric I had on hand for this but it was a no-go.
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Gnomish rejects |
We decided on some very pretty underwater fishy fabric instead. This is the finished dust cover.
I was especially pleased with the form fitting ends, custom shaped to fit the machine.
So that project turned out fine, wasn't too much trouble and is a little like having an aquarium in the music studio.
But then there was the PILLOW. This isn't the first time this %&%$# pillow has raised its ugly head in my sewing room. The story is long and horrible, involving a succession of overstuffed feather pillows and one goose down pillow that wouldn't stop smelling of goose fat, a grisly, feather-spewing "let's use an Exacto knife to open/stab a package containing a pillow" incident and many nights of "down-in-the-mouth" from a pillow that just wouldn't stop coughing out feathers.
So the overstuffed, hard as a rock, down pillow comes out of storage to replace the flying chicken feather pillow....but....it is completely unusable as it is. This is one hard pillow. I tried it for awhile and it was like trying to sleep on a brick.
The solution: sewing skills. Open up the pillow, remove some feathers and sew it back up again. Easy, no?
Definitely, NOT! Sadly, I had been through this process once a few years ago and failed to remove enough feathers on the first go. Hence, the pillow taking up residence in a closet.
I suppose it is too late to make a long story short, but it took about 20 minutes of ripping out teeny tiny stitches, followed by the actual messy feather removal. Next, I perform the reconstructive surgery. Let me just say it is nearly impossible to shove the edge of a fat feather pillow under a sewing machine, especially with pins sticking out all over. After one bloody wound, much hissing and cussing, some hand sewing and more cussing, the pillow is back together again.
If I ever see it in the sewing room again, I'm going to get stabby.