- I have a surfeit of fabric.
- I have a hanging rail and a cabinet of completed clothes.
- I have two boxes of printed patterns.
Friday, 11 June 2010
18
Hypothetically speaking...
Two weeks to go til our trip and I have a To Do list as long as the Scottish rainy season (i.e. never-ending). But top of the list (okay, maybe second after doing my bloody taxes) is to gauge if there would be any interest in a Kitschy Coo Very Quick Mega Sale. In tandem with my effort to simplify and declutter our lives:
Thursday, 10 June 2010
15
From one ARGH to another
I took a brief hiatus last night from my Collette Parfait angst to finish the pirate costume.
He was more than pleased. And bemused. But mostly pleased. The final tally included a ruffley blouse, a vest, a sash, britches, a bandana and an eye patch. And a rather fetching mustache.
Jamie's current modelling strategy: Zoolander faces. My current strategy: chase him around the garden while snapping. The geriatric neighbours find it quite thrilling.
That means he pops up over here.
The edges might be blurred but the euphoria is right there.
Chasing pirates on scooters and hiding behind phone boxes, in public. I'm officially a lunatic.
But it's worth it when I can capture one face like this.
He was more than pleased. And bemused. But mostly pleased. The final tally included a ruffley blouse, a vest, a sash, britches, a bandana and an eye patch. And a rather fetching mustache.
Jamie's current modelling strategy: Zoolander faces. My current strategy: chase him around the garden while snapping. The geriatric neighbours find it quite thrilling.
That means he pops up over here.
The edges might be blurred but the euphoria is right there.
Chasing pirates on scooters and hiding behind phone boxes, in public. I'm officially a lunatic.
But it's worth it when I can capture one face like this.
Wednesday, 9 June 2010
3
This is taking a very, very long time
I'm a semi-instant gratification kind of girl. If I can't finish something in two days at the most, I'm going to be pretty grumpy about it. I'm very grumpy. Baby Calvin is impatient.
Baby Calvin says, 'WTF is taking her so long?
He's not actually grumpy though, because he loves his very cool t-shirt and can't wait to see me in a couple of weeks.
I've been working on the same sewing project for three days now and it's doing my head in. Twenty six pattern pieces plus another ten pieces of interfacing have already been cut, pressed and assembled but I've fallen at the finish line because the two facing pieces DO NOT MAKE ANY SENSE. I was hoping not to tell you what I'm working on because it's a secret and I'm a very alluring and mysterious person. But, if I don't tell you then no one will help me and the only surprise I'll be showing you is that I've pulled all my hair out.
So. The Collette Parfait. Can someone please tell me how the facings work?
Unrelated addendum: Thanks for all the kind words about the rabid child / foul medicine dichotomy. I'm happy to report that after the initial dosage, he's been taking them fine!
Baby Calvin says, 'WTF is taking her so long?He's not actually grumpy though, because he loves his very cool t-shirt and can't wait to see me in a couple of weeks.
I've been working on the same sewing project for three days now and it's doing my head in. Twenty six pattern pieces plus another ten pieces of interfacing have already been cut, pressed and assembled but I've fallen at the finish line because the two facing pieces DO NOT MAKE ANY SENSE. I was hoping not to tell you what I'm working on because it's a secret and I'm a very alluring and mysterious person. But, if I don't tell you then no one will help me and the only surprise I'll be showing you is that I've pulled all my hair out.
So. The Collette Parfait. Can someone please tell me how the facings work?
Unrelated addendum: Thanks for all the kind words about the rabid child / foul medicine dichotomy. I'm happy to report that after the initial dosage, he's been taking them fine!
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
16
Has everyone read the joke about how to give a cat a pill? Well, take that joke, substitute 'Jamie' everytime you see 'cat', and make it not funny. That's why I haven't been blogging, although I have been wailing and flailing other places.
Jamie had his pre-school vaccinations on Friday and his arm starting swelling and reddening over the weekend, although strangely not at either of the puncture sites. Back to the doctor's yesterday and the verdict was that he hadn't had a reaction to the jags as such, but that the open wound has allowed some other bug in and that was causing the swelling. Armed with an adult dosage of antibiotics so concentrated there were pellets of bitterness floating in the suspension like evil sprinkles, and intructions to dose him 28 times in 7 days, I made the schoolgirl error of letting Jamie smell the medicine. Remember this is the child that can tell if I'm attempting to pass off a cracker Dida as a proper Dida, by smell alone. See my error? This one does not smell like bananas or strawberries. Oh no, it smells like back alley dumpsters, the girl who bullied you in primary school and desperation. Or maybe it was me who smelled of desperation because after the preliminary sniff there was point-blank, wild-eyed, foaming-at-the-mouth refusal to let said medicine anywhere near his mouth. It did, however, get all over my shirt.
If you haven't been reading here for that long, you might not know that he struggles generally with anxiety and exponentially with anxiety about eating. After all, he's the one that instigated The Soup Wars which was at least as long as the Hundred Years' War and twice as bitter. When it comes to him and his gullet, he will not respond to threats or retribution or praise or bribes or persuasion or logic or trickery-pokery. His mouth = his business. Which we've more or less accepted when it comes to food but cannot accept when it comes to important medicine.
After another edifying conversation with Unfeasibly Young Doctor today, I was told in no uncertain terms that he absolutely had to have that specific medicine, in that manner, in that dosage, and if necessary, I had to pin him to the floor, force his mouth open and shove it down his throat, twenty eight times. I'm so silly and neurotic that she had to spell it out to me several times before I could comprehend how a food phobia and anxiety should not hold me back from violent force feeding. But first I had to drag him out from behind the couch.
Last minute toddler negotiations failed. I got him in a hold unseen outside a WWF wrestling ring involving two legs, an arm and an elbow. Two hearts brokes. 'Maia, help me!' he screamed. 'Mum, don't do that to Jamie!' she answered. Five milligrams made it down and stayed there. 'I'm so brave!' he shouted in triumph. Maia patted his back and cheered 'I'm so proud of you!'. We had a group hug.
Medicine for feral children
Has everyone read the joke about how to give a cat a pill? Well, take that joke, substitute 'Jamie' everytime you see 'cat', and make it not funny. That's why I haven't been blogging, although I have been wailing and flailing other places.
Jamie had his pre-school vaccinations on Friday and his arm starting swelling and reddening over the weekend, although strangely not at either of the puncture sites. Back to the doctor's yesterday and the verdict was that he hadn't had a reaction to the jags as such, but that the open wound has allowed some other bug in and that was causing the swelling. Armed with an adult dosage of antibiotics so concentrated there were pellets of bitterness floating in the suspension like evil sprinkles, and intructions to dose him 28 times in 7 days, I made the schoolgirl error of letting Jamie smell the medicine. Remember this is the child that can tell if I'm attempting to pass off a cracker Dida as a proper Dida, by smell alone. See my error? This one does not smell like bananas or strawberries. Oh no, it smells like back alley dumpsters, the girl who bullied you in primary school and desperation. Or maybe it was me who smelled of desperation because after the preliminary sniff there was point-blank, wild-eyed, foaming-at-the-mouth refusal to let said medicine anywhere near his mouth. It did, however, get all over my shirt.
If you haven't been reading here for that long, you might not know that he struggles generally with anxiety and exponentially with anxiety about eating. After all, he's the one that instigated The Soup Wars which was at least as long as the Hundred Years' War and twice as bitter. When it comes to him and his gullet, he will not respond to threats or retribution or praise or bribes or persuasion or logic or trickery-pokery. His mouth = his business. Which we've more or less accepted when it comes to food but cannot accept when it comes to important medicine.
After another edifying conversation with Unfeasibly Young Doctor today, I was told in no uncertain terms that he absolutely had to have that specific medicine, in that manner, in that dosage, and if necessary, I had to pin him to the floor, force his mouth open and shove it down his throat, twenty eight times. I'm so silly and neurotic that she had to spell it out to me several times before I could comprehend how a food phobia and anxiety should not hold me back from violent force feeding. But first I had to drag him out from behind the couch.
Last minute toddler negotiations failed. I got him in a hold unseen outside a WWF wrestling ring involving two legs, an arm and an elbow. Two hearts brokes. 'Maia, help me!' he screamed. 'Mum, don't do that to Jamie!' she answered. Five milligrams made it down and stayed there. 'I'm so brave!' he shouted in triumph. Maia patted his back and cheered 'I'm so proud of you!'. We had a group hug.
Saturday, 5 June 2010
13
The Dandy Pirate
Jamie is partaking in The Big Toddle this week and the theme is Pirates. So I started his costume today with a piratey top...
And some britches...
For the record, he is stoked.
Maia? Devastated she doesn't have one. Not like she doesn't loathe the doctor's coat that I made for her birthday and refuses to wear. Steven? Unconvinced that this is a genuine pirate look and not just a dandy. So I guess I have to butch it up a bit. So what do you think? Waistcoat? Eye-patch? Bandana head? Less feminine top? Sigh.
And some britches...
For the record, he is stoked.
Maia? Devastated she doesn't have one. Not like she doesn't loathe the doctor's coat that I made for her birthday and refuses to wear. Steven? Unconvinced that this is a genuine pirate look and not just a dandy. So I guess I have to butch it up a bit. So what do you think? Waistcoat? Eye-patch? Bandana head? Less feminine top? Sigh.
Friday, 4 June 2010
17
Restyling the Mirabelle dress
Now that I've read Fit For Real People, I feel a bit more confident about adjusting the fit of my existing clothes. Even the existing clothes that I made in the first place! Remember my very first tunic?
The sun was out yesterday and I had a hot date with my friend Ruth visiting from Ireland. With the kids out of the house for most of the day I spent an unfeasible amount of time making adjustments. Pinning, basting, trying on, sewing Scandinavian-style (i.e. sans clothing), trying on again, pinning, basting, etc. I still don't have the confidence to put darts in, but I did some serious side seam shaping. See the basting lines?
I took it in to the point of hard-to-pull-on-over-my-head. But what a difference! The bulkiness under the bust before alterations irked me:
And after I was done?
I feel much happier in it. More uncomfortable perhaps because I have to watch my posture, but happier none-the-less!
The sun was out yesterday and I had a hot date with my friend Ruth visiting from Ireland. With the kids out of the house for most of the day I spent an unfeasible amount of time making adjustments. Pinning, basting, trying on, sewing Scandinavian-style (i.e. sans clothing), trying on again, pinning, basting, etc. I still don't have the confidence to put darts in, but I did some serious side seam shaping. See the basting lines?
I took it in to the point of hard-to-pull-on-over-my-head. But what a difference! The bulkiness under the bust before alterations irked me:
And after I was done?
I feel much happier in it. More uncomfortable perhaps because I have to watch my posture, but happier none-the-less!
Thursday, 3 June 2010
42
The tank wasforced gently placed on Maia and it fits super well. And the back's not too shabby either.
Because Millie asked so nicely about the way I did the binding, here's my compendium of different methods of knit binding. And why I don't like them. Except my own way, which I love.
Method One: Single fold binding
Tutorial: The grumpy person's guide to knit bindings
The tank was
Because Millie asked so nicely about the way I did the binding, here's my compendium of different methods of knit binding. And why I don't like them. Except my own way, which I love.
Method One: Single fold binding
- Binding is folded in half:
- On fold, sewn to the right side of the garment:
- End result flipped up:
NB: You can topstitch seam allowance back down to the main fabric for a nicer finish, I didn't because I'm in a ridiculous hurry. - Why I don't like it: If you're binding a neckline or something super curvy you have to cut the binding much shorter and make it stretch evenly to fit. Too. Many. Pins.
- Binding folded in half and then into quarters:
- Folded to hide raw edges and the bottom fold extend a little bit further down from the top fold:
- Binding encloses raw edge like a sandwich:
- Stitched close to the bottom edge (thereby catching the hidden folded edge on the inside that extends slightly further) The right side:
The wrong side:
- Why I don't like it: You have too be oh-so-slow and careful to make sure you are catching the hidden bottom edge in a non-ugly fashion
- Binding folded up about a third of the way to give stitch guide:
- Placed to the right side of garment and stitched along press line:
- Binding pulled up and over the raw edges into the inside of the garment and pressed down:
- Stitched on the right side of the garment just below the bottom edge of the binding:
- Turned to the wrong side:
- The excess binding trimmed up to the stitch line:
- The end result:
- Why I don't like it: It's honestly not that bad, but I don't love the trimmed raw edge. That's the kind of thing that shops cover up with a coverstitch.
- As per Method One, fold binding in half but put it to the wrong side of the garment:
- Once stitched, flip the binding to the right side:
- Fold it over so that it encloses the seam allowance. Roll it a tiny bit so the edge of the binding is still visible from the wrong side (otherwise known as Don't Drag the Wrong Side of the Garment Up and Over So Everyone Can See It). You should be able to feel the seam allowance hiding inside.
- Stitch the binding down close to the edge from the right side:
Pardon the skipped stitches, my machine was being an a**hole. - The wrong side looks nice too (and see what I mean about a tiny bit of the binding still visible from the inside):
- A better picture of both sides when machines are being cooperative:
- Why this method is awesome: Good looking from both sides, and you don't need to cut the binding smaller than the neckline and stretch it to fit.
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