Soooooo . . . it’s been a while, yes?

I don’t know how these people–these sewing everything (every beautiful garment) they wear and still having time for a family, a job, and other hobbies people–are doing it.  And not only are they doing it, they’re blogging about it too!

Whatever.  I won’t focus on them–I can’t.  Maybe they drink coffee.  Maybe they have secretly cloned themselves and let the clones do the sewing while they nap.  No one knows.  And since they’re pretty clever heifers to have secretly cloned themselves to begin with, no one will ever know.  What we do know is that in my one house I have amassed the sewing projects of a multi-clone (at least three) household.  But, no clones live here.

Simplicity 3835 in the dining room.  Bad pattern for the busty.

Seasons pass and I’m still working on that fall jacket or that summer dress.  Patterns, fabric, and endless ideas anxiously await my fleeting attention.  Projects are constantly left partially sewn. The hope is that I’ll finish these projects before they’re out of fashion.  That’s the hope.

And the blog . . . oh, the blog.  How earnestly we set it up.  But then our perfectionist ways got the best of us and soon even writing about our half-assed sewing attempts became too much.  I’m speaking in the plural because I’m imagining my clones taking some of the responsibility for my waywardness.  Surely the clones can come up with a sleeping shift schedule that can allow for twenty-four-hour sewing.  Surely they are to blame.

So in February, I started sewing the muslin of my Naomi.  To my amazement, this pattern actually worked on my frame.  I was so elated I waited until April to begin making the jacket in a wearable material, because excitement automatically leads to procrastination in my world.

So yesterday (Easter Sunday) as I trudged through cutting out interfacing, I began thinking, For what season will this Naomi be?  Spring, or Fall?  Enter the Easter pledge.

Naomi in the living room . . . in March of 2011.

The Easter pledge is this:  I vow to dedicate at least one hour a day to sewing.  It’s a simple pledge in theory.  Only time will tell if I’ll follow through.

The hard truth is the only way I will get these projects done this lifetime is if I dedicate more time to them.  And with more sewing time, perhaps I’ll have more to blog about.  If the Easter pledge isn’t effective, I’ll look into acquiring clones.

Old sewing machines are cool.  I like to look at them but DO NOT want to know what it’s like to have to use them (I assume they don’t have push button stitch selection).

It’s funny how old sewing machines, like the ones above, which were in the window of the All Saints store in downtown Seattle over the holidays, look so cool.  However, the one below, found in my parents’ house, does not.  Give it thirty years maybe?  We’ll see.

One of my most favorite fabrics is corduroy.  And of all the corduroy fabrics I own–and I own a lot of corduroy–the fabric above is the prettiest.  Also worth noting is the fact that I found this on a local remnant table, but I digress . . . The issue at hand is that I have no idea what to do with it.

I tend to believe that fabric speaks.  It tells me what to do with it, rather than the converse.  So I’m trying to figure out if this fabric is mute or if I’m deaf. Whatever the case, we’re not communicating.  I would love nothing more than to turn these yards into something, but I have no idea what. 

Here’s a closer, less unfocused look.

So what do you want to be, my lovely?  A jacket?  A skirt?  How can I display your beauty without making you gaudy or over-the-top?  “Skirt,” you say?  Sigh.

One day, one fine day, she’ll speak and I’ll listen.  Then I’ll make some masterpiece of a garment and walk out of the house wearing said work of art stunning and stupefying you all. Yeah . . . that’s exactly what I’ll do.

How many times have I altered tissue pattern pieces in your name?  How many muslins have I sewn?  How many hours have been wasted on you, McCall’s 5466?  I don’t even know why I included a link to you!  If you out there are reading this, DON’T FOLLOW THE LINK!  You’ll be enraptured by the neckline pleats or the slant pockets, and the next thing you know you’ll be swimming in a sea of tissue bodices.  IT’S NOT WORTH IT!  I, for one, will allow this to go no further.  McCall’s 5466, until I can figure out what to do with that neckline, thou art loosed–away with you!