This afternoon I read Tuesday's post on How About Orange about how Jessica started sewing and later, as I was putting the girls to bed, I started thinking about how I might describe my own beginnings as a seamstress. I thought about how I started my next handbag today, laying out the pattern pieces and cutting them out from the fabric, and how I just couldn't manage to hold enough of the instructions in my head at once to accomplish that task in an orderly way. I wasted so much fabric, because I didn't gather all the pattern pieces for each fabric and lay them out in the most efficient fashion. Nope, grabbed one, taped it down, started cuttin'. Wasted oodles of fabric.
The word "flail" always occurs to me as I think about how I go about this. Like a little kid blindfolded and batting at her birthday pinata. I do hit that fucker a lot - but the rest of the time I'm just whacking my dad in the nuts.
Case in point: I finished one half of the bottom of the front (or something) this evening and I suh-LAMMED those darts! I sewed those bad boys down!Then, feeling all flush 'cuz I hit the pinata, I proceded to start the other side. Lined up the notches for the two fabrics and - whoops! - thread got caught up coming off the spool and I had to abort the seam and start over. Okay - no problem. Put it all back together - exactly as it had been - and triumphantly pulled it off the machine...and I sewed the two fabrics right side to wrong side. WHAM - squah in the nuts.