One ironing board to bring them all and in the darkness blind them

I'm delighted to add another addition to the Least Exciting Things I've Made series! Completely necessary though as oh dear god our last ironing board cover was gross, ripped, and stained.  If I'm going to be photographing some tutorials the very least I can do is make my ironing board glorious, right?

And by glorious I mean garish.  I figured it will match all the things, or none of the things.  Like most things that are of paramount importance to humanity, I will keep you posted.

By way of apology for tempting you here with mundanities, I'll give you a tiny glimpse of my sewing room.  Remember that time I said, 'Hey you guys, I finally realised it's okay to spend money making this space work for me'?  Me neither.

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The Little Shop That Wasn't (For Me)

This weekend, on my daily pilgrimmage for bread and milk I walked by the shop that I was interested in.  And there were people in there!  Not shocking in and of itself, obviously, but it's been boarded up forever and I didn't actually think anyone would want it but me.  'Aha!', I thought, 'the universe is sending me a sign!'.  I didn't have an appointment scheduled to see it but I figured as the agent isn't local and he was physically there and so was I, I'd loiter around until the other viewer left and then introduce myself.  Which I did. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I just shook on it with the other viewer.'  And do you know what?  I was relieved.

Here's my very technical drawing of the space.  It's a corner unit with a chunk out of one corner for the main door, full height windows to two sides, and a internal door to a tiny bathroom on the back wall.  The total dimensions are roughly the same as my current space but the available wall space is a whole lot smaller.  To store my fabric in its current shelving would take up most of the wall space, which would leave me to work in one of the windows like a very boring parody of Amsterdam's red light district.

And here's my current working space.  One door, one half-height window (so I can work in front of it), a whole lotta wall and work space.  Looking at it like that, it would have been madness to cut into my profit margin by £400/m.  But it was something I was seriously considering doing for two reasons:

1. The sewing room is the land of misfit furniture
2. I have trouble staying 'on task' in my house

The first point is sounds simple enough.  Throughout Operation: Save Our Collective Lives I've replaced furniture that doesn't work with our lives and house with furniture that does.  The misfit furniture then moves to the garage or, if it is a semi-fit for what I need, into the sewing room.  But it's not the furniture that I need for the sewing room to work: my sewing table is too small for more than one machine at a time, there's an erstwhile two seater sofa that's being used as a surface to stack stuff on, and I'm using a old TV unit for pattern storage.  Consequently the room gets messy quickly, I'm frustrated with swapping machines constantly, and I don't feel happy and productive when I'm in there.  But guess what?  None of the misfit furniture would have gone to the shop.  Ergo, if I was willing to spend money to kit out the shop so it's the best use of space, I should be willing to spend money to improve my current space.  In fact, I should be willing to spend more money as it saves me the shop expenses in the long run.

Which moves me onto point two, which is harder to overcome.

When I am very busy, I work at my best.  But by 'busy' I mean I have orders to fulfil, when there are already expectations on me by customers.  What I struggle with is creating more business, be that through promoting, marketing, working on new patterns or designs, actively seeking opportunities, etc.  Truth be told, it's the fear of putting myself out there. I've been talking with a good friend a lot recently about holding myself and my business back through fear of failure and how this is actually a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Getting a physical shop would force me to work really, really hard to cover its expenses but more than that, I'd be telling myself that it's okay to take this seriously as a business.  To do many businessy things because I absolutely had to and should do as a legitimate business.  The number of people who've asked, 'What are you going to do now that your kids are both at school?' with the undertone of you should go back to proper work definitely sows seeds of doubt in what you're doing.  And that doubt is multiplied if you are the one holding yourself back. 

Long story short, the shop was not to be but it made me analyse where I'm at.

• There are definitely less expensive ways to feel legitimate  
• If I was willing to invest in the shop, it's okay to invest in things that are not the shop  
• I need to structure my time better

Thoughts or advice?

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The Chair of Happiness

Following my post of chair-related navel gazing, I decided rather than over-research the complex relative merits of dozens of chairs whilst sitting in a very uncomfortable one and carrying it back and forth between rooms depending on where we needed it most at any given time, I'd just freaking buy one. Most unlike me, I know. But buy one I did, and this is the best 'before' shot I can give you:

Him: territorial. Her: Hysterical.

The kids would not have been more excited if I wheeled the Messiah into the room. I can only conclude that they should get humble desk chairs for Christmas. And their birthdays. After I could prise them away from The Chair, I loosely followed this tute to recover it.

It was an even more straight-forward job than expected as the back rest ended up completely popping off with a screwdriver so I could just staple the new fabric to the backing. Word to the wise, however, pound the casing back on with a mallet instead of attempting to ease it back on with the screwdriver. I ended up with a small (but inconsequential) crack.
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I have an additional reason for happiness today. Those of you on Facebook might have seen that I borked my serger last week. After a kind recommendation from a local friend, two of my machines (the broken serger and a previously broken regular machine that I've been studiously ignoring) were dropped off at NJ Sewing Machine Services in Polmont on Saturday. They could not have been more kind or helpful, and they completely fixed both for me within one working day. Coming in a a third of the cost (were actually talking about almost £150 in difference!) and at three weeks quicker than the local shop I've been using for servicing in the past, I could not recommend them more. Richard talked me through and showed me what was wrong with them, what he did to fix them, taught me loads of things I can fix myself in future and other things that I should really leave to the experts. If you are in Scotland, they're right next to the train station in Polmont so you can easily get there even without a car. Honestly, I've never had a more helpful (and less condescending) service.

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Splish Splash (and a burning question)

I've been slowly making over our house in Operation: Save Our Collective Lives for the last forever, but one room that has escaped my clutches is the bathroom. Because a) it's the bathroom and b) it's the bathroom. But ever since I snatched the canvas off the wall to make the Orla Kiely organiser for the kitchen, the barren picture hook has been tormenting me. Luckily I have a million fugly canvasses awaiting decoration, so I snatched one today and got to work. (Those awaiting the burning question, scroll down to the bottom...)

Step one: Question my motivation for ever buying fugly canvas, find answers lacking.

Step two: turn normal striped fabric into chevron fabric by cutting strips on the bias.

Step three: sew them together in a nearly precise fashion.

Step four: staple and trim.

Step five: print words and trace them onto freezer paper.

Step six: use a craft knife to cut letters out.

Step seven: Iron the words on.

Step eight: Daub with acrylic paint.

Step nine: Peel and reveal.

Step ten: Hang and admire. Sigh that it's still the bathroom and therefore uninteresting to you (or more accurately: me).

Right, burning question time. Rather than just using Pinterest merely to organise my personal deficiencies into handy folders, I've actually been forcing myself to use it. Example: I'm obsessed with chevron fabric and have no chevron fabric, ergo I search Pinterest to tell me how to make my own. I know that Linky posts are a bit controversial, but would anyone be interested in a regular group feature (I mean a Linky *sigh*) of the things we've made using Pinterest for instructions or inspiration? Obviously, because I'm me, I reeaaaaaaallllllllllly want to see some Nailed It ones submitted too. In fact, that's the force compelling me. Like Cookie Monster, and this one:


Who's game?

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Tutorial: Pimp your filing cabinet with fabric hanging folders

As part of Operation: Save Our Collective Lives it's an ongoing concern of mine to get this house and family into order. I have done many things, I am currently doing many things, I am planning on doing many things in future. But one thing that is always carried from To Do list to To Do list is the freaking filing. I hate filing paperwork. Tricks must be played on my subconscious to get it on board. Do you remember I have played tricks on the subconscious before? It worked. But Pretty Solution One is now too full. Subconsious, I am now playing dirty. I will get you yet.

Want to pimp your filing cabinet / scare your rational non-psychotic friends? Here goes...

Start with a hanging file that already fits your filing cabinet. Note how lackluste it is and lacking the gravitas required to cradle your important family bizness.

Cut off the metal bits at the top.

Trace around the paper file you cut off, adding 1cm to both the left and right sides and 3cm to the top. Marking the fold at the bottom of the pattern piece.

Cut your fabric on the fold. Think to yourself, 'I'd like to put paper in this every day'.

Edge finish all four edges. A serger makes a super-quick job of it if you have one, an overcasting zig-zag on a regular sewing machine is fine too. Fraying edges will only make you angry about filing.

Press the 1cm allowances (of the long edges) to the wrong side with your iron.

Sew them down close to the edge.

Press the 3cm allowances (of the short edges) to the wrong side with your iron.

Sew them down close to the edge, to form casings.

Thread the metal hanging bits through the casing.

You're done! File away the two years of paper work you've collected in various parts of the house.

Disclaimer: 98% of you are going to think this is a completely mental use of time and fabric. But it's a very quick project (I made six folders in less than an hour) and I am hoping / praying / doing black voodoo magic that making my filing pretty might help motivate me to stay on top of it. Once I have a better idea of exactly how many separate folders are required, different colours and prints will be added for extra organisation. It's time-saving and stash-busting, right? Right? Anyone? Okay, it's probably just a bit crazy.

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How to make your bills into a feature

Since Jamie started school and Maia nursery, I have been drowning in a sea of administration. Everyday they come home with newsletters, forms, requests for checks in ridiculously small denominations, permission slips. Add that to our normal bills and paperwork, and more correspondence from the NHS than I thought possible, there are papers everywhere. Literally.

On one of my previous posts about Operation: Save Our Collective Lives, auntninn said:

I'll share one of the best tips I've heard lately, though. Figure out if you're an "innie" or an "outie" person when it comes to organizing. This was a revelation to me because I love to put things away and have things in nice neat little cubbies. But I'm also an out-of-sight-out-of-mind person. So anything *really* important gets piled, because I don't trust myself to remember it if I put it away.

How true is that? Answer: heaps. I am an outie, Steven is an innie. Ergo, we have had a lot of conflict lately because I leave stuff out if I still need to deal with it and he's been filing it away and I've threatened to stab him* if he doesn't stop doing that. *Not really, but it's getting close.

So what's the answer? I need things to be out where I can see them, he needs things off of every available surface. My solution:

I recovered an old photo canvas with The Fabric That Matches Everything and made four pockets out of some Orla Kiely car fabric I scored recently. The big car pockets are for me and Steven, the small car pockets are for the kids. The orange and green fits in with the colour scheme of our kitchen. It almost makes me want to deal with the paperwork. Almost.

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Operation Save our Collective Lives: The Pint-Sized Phase

For the last couple of weeks I've been working almost exclusively on improving the kids' room. At three and a half, I decided it was long-overdue to move Maia into a proper bed (even if she didn't share my sentiments). The problem was that the room couldn't house all their toys, four dressers of clothes, a bookcase and two single beds. Major downsizing of existing things ensued. Then major upsizing of new things ensued.

Most notably: bunk beds. Why didn't anyone tell me how big they are?

Behind the Artist Formerly Known as Maia is the resurrected Uncomfy Couch, named thus for obvious reasons. When I removed the cover to make a new one, it became clear why: rather than proper upholstery webbing there were very thin plastic ties that had cheese-wired straight through the foam. My anticipated Quick and Dirty couch resurrection became a Slow and Stabby one as I not only had to make a new cover but also re-string and re-foamed it. The cushions you are au fait with.

I made new light jersey curtains to allow more light than the previous plain red ones.

One of the toys I removed for floor space was an blackboard easel; instead I have painted a section of the wall with blackboard paint for drawing and practising their writing and math. It is 'magic' blackboard paint, but more on that another day...

Although I truly love my kids' (superlative) artwork, I did not love they way they stuck it all over every available surface. Instead, I've strung a line along the ceiling and clothes-pegged up my favourites.

Please note the safety bar above the safety bar on the top bunk; he is still determined to fall out.

My final act of Dutiful Mum was to make them matching duvet covers today with cowprint to one side and snuggly red flannel to the other . I'm still not done completely with my plans, but I'm certainly fed up of working on it so the smaller things are going to have to wait until I've a) made more money to fund it b) stabilised my mood. In other words, they might never get done.

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Tutorial: Fifteen Minute Envelope Pillow Covers

Since we've been back from our trip I've been feverishly re-dedicating all of my time to Operation: Save Our Collective Lives. With the living room completed over the summer, and the kitchen shortly after, I've now turned my attention to the kids' room and it's becoming a time-and-money-eating-must-make-everything-uber-project. Although with all of the furniture now assembled, disassembled and/or be-garaged I've finally moved onto the sewing phase. So only seven months after I promised, I present you The Easiest Pillow Covers in the World tutorial.

• Gather your materials. You're going to need a pre-filled pillow, half a metre of fabric and some velcro.
• Measure your pillow. Mine is 50cm x 50 cm so I'm going to have one square of fabric these exact dimensions: And two rectangles that are 29cm x 50cm (the 29cm being slightly over half of 50cm). If you're using a different sized pillow a good rule for height is half of original height plus 4cm: I wanted my pillow covers to be pretty loose, but if you want a puffier pillow and a tighter case use dimensions slightly smaller than your actual pillow (and also a longer strip of Velcro to stop it gapping).
• Edge finish one of the long sides of both of your rectangles. I used a serger but an overcasting or zigzag stitch on a regular machine is fine.
• On one of your rectangles, fold down about an inch of the finished edge to the wrong side of your fabric and press.
• Stitch the fold down close to the edge.
• Fold the rectangle in half and place a pin to mark centre. Centre a two inch piece of Velcro on the fold.
• Sew a box around your Velcro to secure it.
• Fold your other rectangle in half and place a pin at the centre. On the right side of the fabric, centre the other strip of Velcro about half an inch down from the edge.
• Sew a box around this piece to secure as well.
• Lay your big square piece out with the right side facing up. Put your rectangle with the fold on top of the square, right sides facing and align their edges. Put your other rectangle without the fold along the opposite side (also right sides facing), and align these edges as well. The velcro bits will attach. Pin all the layers together so they don't shift.
• Sew all the way around the square on all four sides.
• Turn right side out and fill with your pre-filled pillow. You're done!

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