I love fabric. I love the colors, the feel, the possibilities. Being around fabric makes me feel inspired and creative. Being in front of the sewing machine, however, make me feel like I want to throw it out the window. I feel spatially challenged, sloooowwww, and impatient. I become like a 3 year old when I have a vision in my head and no skills to execute it.
But the blank wall in the living room has been calling me. An empty 120" wide curtain rod has had me up at 3 a.m. browsing remnants online. Many a night. I finally decided to hang three panels of canvas and paint on it, like a mural. I had an idea of something to commemorate our wedding. So I went to a three fabric stores (that's a lot of threes already) and I found muslin and canvas and a silly lady at JoAnn's who told me too much useless information about puffy paint no thank you very much. The third store was grand and vast and I lost track of time. I happened upon beautiful fabric, in wedding colors no less, that I thought would go perfect with the red couches but not be dark... Here it is:
Gorgeous, no? And we have a crappy coffee table that I want to try to cover in fabric (you and I both will have to trust me on this one). I found a different pattern, matching colors, and garnered HIGH PRAISE from all the little sewing lady helpers working there today. It's bad lighting, but you can get the idea:
I'll be sure to show you the finished products unless they suck. At worst, I got the whole bolt, so the inside part will make a fine cat scratcher.
I found myself doing something uncharacteristic in the fabric store. There were all women in the store and perhaps it was the collective hormones. But as I was searching drapery remnants I heard a gaggle of women cooing over a baby. Without even thinking, I turned, headed toward the stroller and introduced myself as someone who just had to see what all the fuss was about. And I cooed over the baby, too, her eyes and hair, and how she was almost walking now, and asked her name, and my voice raised an octave or two when I repeated it back to her. What?! The power of babies has now overridden my social guardedness. Code red!
I also heard the most charming thing. Near the section I was browsing sat a girl and boy, probably about 8. They were trying to amuse each other in the corner as their mom or aunt shopped. As I got closer, I could tell they were trying to amuse me, too, because their stories to each other got more elaborate and loud and started including a string of words like pee and poop and puke and 'whale sushi'. I successfully quelled a fleeting urge to join in the story, too. The charming part came later - probably an hour later, near the end of my time there, when I saw the girl flash by me, chasing the boy, saying: "listen, listen, I will tell you a story no one has ever told before!" That warms my heart, to hear her want to tell her story, and to know that each of us always tells a story never told before.
But the blank wall in the living room has been calling me. An empty 120" wide curtain rod has had me up at 3 a.m. browsing remnants online. Many a night. I finally decided to hang three panels of canvas and paint on it, like a mural. I had an idea of something to commemorate our wedding. So I went to a three fabric stores (that's a lot of threes already) and I found muslin and canvas and a silly lady at JoAnn's who told me too much useless information about puffy paint no thank you very much. The third store was grand and vast and I lost track of time. I happened upon beautiful fabric, in wedding colors no less, that I thought would go perfect with the red couches but not be dark... Here it is:
Gorgeous, no? And we have a crappy coffee table that I want to try to cover in fabric (you and I both will have to trust me on this one). I found a different pattern, matching colors, and garnered HIGH PRAISE from all the little sewing lady helpers working there today. It's bad lighting, but you can get the idea:
I'll be sure to show you the finished products unless they suck. At worst, I got the whole bolt, so the inside part will make a fine cat scratcher.
I found myself doing something uncharacteristic in the fabric store. There were all women in the store and perhaps it was the collective hormones. But as I was searching drapery remnants I heard a gaggle of women cooing over a baby. Without even thinking, I turned, headed toward the stroller and introduced myself as someone who just had to see what all the fuss was about. And I cooed over the baby, too, her eyes and hair, and how she was almost walking now, and asked her name, and my voice raised an octave or two when I repeated it back to her. What?! The power of babies has now overridden my social guardedness. Code red!
I also heard the most charming thing. Near the section I was browsing sat a girl and boy, probably about 8. They were trying to amuse each other in the corner as their mom or aunt shopped. As I got closer, I could tell they were trying to amuse me, too, because their stories to each other got more elaborate and loud and started including a string of words like pee and poop and puke and 'whale sushi'. I successfully quelled a fleeting urge to join in the story, too. The charming part came later - probably an hour later, near the end of my time there, when I saw the girl flash by me, chasing the boy, saying: "listen, listen, I will tell you a story no one has ever told before!" That warms my heart, to hear her want to tell her story, and to know that each of us always tells a story never told before.
I'll have to come visit you for a few days for the sake of your sewing machine!! You should look into taking some lessons while you're not working, that's what I did when I first moved to FL and was only working part time, and look at me now!! Hey maybe I can teach you on Skype!?!
ReplyDeleteamy, you'd be an awesome sewing mentor! i did dig up my unused 'sewing for dummies' so that will help hopefully, and maybe i will take a class... maybe i'll be bugging you for some help as i go along..
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