Repeating

At the markets, I'm asked various questions:

"Can you make this in (insert fabric choice here)?"
"Do you take special orders?"
"Do you know where the bathrooms are?"

But recently, I was asked something that really made me think:

"Have you been sewing all your life?"

Well...yes. And...no. I can very distinctly recall being about 5 or 6 and Mom teaching me to sew by letting me make a little pillow. It was probably not very good, but it was very, VERY fun. It was flowered...I think...and she helped me to put a little of that inexpensive "lace" ruffle trim around the edge. A year or two later, Santa Claus...in one of his greatest visits to our house EVER (more on that another time)...brought me a little sewing box. I'm sure Mom hoped I'd enjoy sewing my whole life. After all, she certainly did. She sewed almost all of my clothes until I rebelled (probably somewhere in late elementary school). She sewed Barbie outfits. She sewed (and re-sewed) and stuffed (and re-stuffed) worn and much loved stuffed animals. She sewed curtains for my very first bedroom makeover. She made drill team uniforms in both junior high school and high school, and coordinated a whole group of like-minded Moms to help her. She sewed practice flags for the band's flag corps. She sewed costumes for me for summer community theatre musicals. She was truly a seamstress, so of course, I had it in my genes. Or, not.
Because somewhere around junior high school time, I had to take Home Ec. and had to sew a skirt. The teacher knew my Mom and knew I'd been sewing "my whole life."

Except I hadn't. My MOM had been sewing "my whole life." I, however, had been playing four-square, and riding bikes, and chewing gum, and listening to Shaun Cassidy records, and reading Tiger Beat magazine, and talking on the phone. I had probably not opened that sewing box since about Christmas night many years before.

And, boy howdy, did that skirt suffer. After having taken out and re-put-in the zipper for the seventh time, the teacher finally exclaimed, "Mary Katherine, how is it that you can't do this? Your mother is such a good seamstress!" I guess she felt sorry for me and passed my skirt on the seventh or eighth try, but she clearly had no idea how this skill skipped a generation.

I watched my Mom painstakingly cut patterns...and I learned a little. I watched her match stripes and plaids...and I learned a little. I watched her iron after every sewing step...and I learned a little. But, I didn't write everything down. I didn't ask her enough questions. I didn't listen enough about pinning curves. (I mean, I really, REALLY didn't listen well enough about pinning curves.)

Mom bought me a little student sewing machine to take with me to college...an unwanted piece of baggage that just took up valuable shoe space on the floor of that tiny dorm closet. She also bought me the Vogue Sewing Book to drag along with my enormous text books. What a waste...

...until I needed a shirt for a dance...until my roommate needed some shorts hemmed...until it was time for Christmas formal and a bunch of us wanted to make stockings for our dates...until I wanted a cute new blouse for a date. She knew. And later...when I needed a last-minute formal dress cut out (thank GOODNESS I watched her cut patterns...just enough)...and when I wanted drapes for my first apartment...and throw pillows...and Christmas stockings for my first Christmas in that apartment...and gifts for friends...and a hobby-ish business to enjoy in my 50's.

She knew.

So, "Yes ma'am. I have been sewing my whole life.!"

(I just didn't know it.)

 

Teaching

When I don't blog, I worry that I'm not sharing enough about learning and growing as a crafts business owner. And I know it's been a while since I've shared. For a few weeks now I've been busy reading other bloggers' blogs, checking out other sewers' awesome projects, and visiting other crafters' expert booths and marketing.

Trust me, I've been getting schooled.

A popular, thoughtful, prayerful, and meaningful blog has brought me both weekly joy and tears for the authors' pain. It has given me a new perspective on priorities.

A new sewing friend's project photos have inspired me and helped to show me where my focus really should be...what projects I really enjoy vs. just what will sell. And the sweet ladies at the local Viking Sewing Gallery have (thankfully) been very kind as they painstakingly show me again (and again, and again, and again) what I am doing wrong. 

Did I mention I do alot of things wrong?

Multiple market friends' booth advice has proved invaluable. I was so completely unprepared for the first tuft show booth. I was slightly less unorepared for the second one. Pretty sure in a couple of years, I'll have it down.

So many folks have been teaching me how to "do" tuft over the past few weeks, both knowingly and unknowingly. I hope when I get "good" at this, I can teach someone else.

Don't hold your breath though...

Turning

If you sew, at some point, you have had to turn something inside out. If you sew very small things, this can be challenging. In fact, I have a theory that the smaller the thing is that you are turning inside out...the larger your vocabulary of colorful expletives.

I sew bags. Bags have straps. Straps are small. Ergo, my vocabulary was getting too large.

There are special tools made just for this activity and they don't cost much, but I have recently become fairly adept at using stuff from around the house and garage to get the job done. Here are my tricks:

When I start to sew the sides of a strap, I sew an old piece of cord with some scrap material on the end into the strap, by sandwiching it between the two pieces of material (that are currently right sides together):

 

 

Then I sew across the end of the strap, catching the cord in the stitch line:

 



 

 Next, I sew down the other side of the strap, taking care NOT to catch the cord into the stitch line:

Here's the strap with the cord hanging down from the closed end:

 

Go to the store for a turning tool? Not a chance, when I can find a simple screwdriver!

 

 

 

Using the screwdriver, I carefully push the sewn cord end of the strap back into the strap itself:

 

 

This works to get it started, but then I have to switch to a longer household tool...the paintbrush:

 

 

The paintbrush works great and I can get just about all of the strap pushed back through itself on the handle of the paintbrush:

 

If you think this looks weird...you are not alone. (Hey, it works though and there is much, MUCH less swearing!) You can just see the top of the right side of the strap being pushed through the top now and this is where the cord comes in handy. I gently pull on the cord, which easily pulls the strap right side out, snip off the end, and...

 

 

Ta da!

 

 

Longer straps? No problem! Wooden dowel works in place of the screwdriver and/or paintbrush:

 

 

It isn't pretty, but it works! I'd love to hear from other crafters who sew...how do you accomplish this? Would love your suggestions! 

 

 



 

Haiku-ing

Short Attention Span
I want to sew bags...
I want to sew pillows too...
Gilmore Girls is on...

Reality
Designing is fun!
Buying fabric is fun too!
(Bank wants their cut though.)

So Knots Fun
Thread does not want to
Do what it should do and I
Get cranky quickly.

Defeating the Purpose
Boy howdy this bag
Sure is cute and I want to
Keep it for myself!

Sloppy
Haiku is what you
Do when you know you should do
Actual blogging.

:)

Learning

So after the launch of tuft's first craft show booth, I have a lengthy list of notes. We can put a pretty spin on it and talk about how much I learned about style preferences or having enough change. But  to be honest, most of the notes I took have little to nothing to do with what products our booth visitors seemed to like or which ones garnered absolutely zero interest.

They're more...well...see for yourself:

Wind. Cold this time which was bad. Could be hot or wet next time. But even a gentle breeze on a balmy spring day becomes...at best, a fabric-flapping disruption to your carefully placed display...at worst, a tent flipping nightmare. I counted four complete tent-lifters...thankfully not ours but still scary.

Note to self: so...weights...for EVERYTHING. Hello...I'm a maker of fabric items...how hard would it have been to have made and brought some useful bean bags?

Grass. Soft, green, slightly-clover-y grass. Lots of cute pups, including ours, trotting around on that grass enjoying the beautiful day. Quite lovely really...and a mentally restful break from the bone-chilling, tent-tossing wind. Petting the visiting pups...cuddling our own...then sneezing like crazy. Because...oh yeah...even though the typical Southern allergy season doesn't start for another month or two, pups rolling around in early spring weeds brings the sneezy, itchy histamines right on during a sale.

Note to self: I must start the spring allergy meds NOW.

Smells. Not the dogs. The delicious treats. Oh my word, the treats. Wonderful, warm, wafting scents of meats and cheeses and boiled peanuts and homemade pastries and jams.

Note to self: bring separate treat money. Separate from the tuft till, of course. Separate from the Hubs' treat money too.

And a treat money LIMIT. After you've huddled under your own display tablecloths for warmth, and sneezed your fool head off...you are a little stressed...and even though you JUST had an empanada...oh...yeah...smell that? Yeah, that's scones and I. Want. One.

No...two.

Hence the treat money limit.

Yes, I'm learning a lot. More signs. Move everything that was at eye level, up to not-so eye level. Move everything that wasn't at eye level to...you get the gist. Weight everything down. Bring more tissues. Bring a limited amount of treat money.

Bring a bigger notebook too.

Encouraging

So the crafting of tuft semi-officially begins this weekend on what will probably be the coldest morning of the year so far. We have a booth at a local outdoor market. We won't bring a ton of inventory but it's just the first day out. Kind of tuft-lite.

Tent? Check.

Banner? Check.

Business cards? Uh...well...next time for sure.

Famous brand name tumbler full of the strongest, hottest coffee I can brew? You'd better believe it.

But the most important things coming alongside tuft on Saturday are the pep talks given, prayers lifted, and helpful advice offered over the past few weeks. In fact tuft would never have come even THIS far without the encouragement of a long list of you-know-who-you-ares.

You have listened (or at least pretended to...REALLY well) and let me borrow some of your courage when mine was lacking. You have bolstered my confidence and you have gently let me know when anxiety was about to overtake progress. You have even fed the dog for me while I was busy sewing at night.

OK we all know that last one was the Hubs, but there really have been many others, and you all know who you are and you know the helpful role(s) you've played. Thank you so much!

Hiccupping

When my Mom was in her 80's, she got hit with a double whammy of cancer and dementia. But this isn't about those two mercifully short, experiences. No THIS is about what happened to her before the cancer and dementia.

My Mom had the hiccups.

Now, I mean the HICCUPS. The can't-catch-your-breath-happens-every-single-day-for-hours-at-a-time hiccups. The can't-eat-or-talk-or-rest hiccups. The kind that finally make you go to the doctor.

My Mom did not have a mean bone in her body but after having gone through weeks of these hiccups, multiple exams by her regular doctor and finally being referred to a specialist, well she was naturally frustrated and expected some help. So the doctor's "orders" to go home and eat spoonfuls of sugar and come back again in three weeks (seriously)...well as we say around here...that just didn't set too well with my Mom. I understand from a reliable third party that she was so mad that she got her back up and in that voice only an 80+-year-old Southern woman has she said, "Do you think I haven't tried that?"

Suffice it to say...she did not go back to that doctor. Eventually, the hiccups did subside. Diagnoses of the other two problems followed later but in neither case was she unduly concerned.

She was finally rid of the damned hiccups!

For the past week or two, I have run into what most people would consider minor roadblocks to starting a crafts business...or any business for that matter. All probably very normal and requiring only a few phone calls...a little research...a few spoonfuls of sugar...but very frustrating and worrisome to me. The hubs very astutely calls them "hiccups." And my choice now is to let them win...or get my back up.