Secret chickens

When Jupiter and Saturn approached their Great Conjunction, I pulled out the big binoculars that I have hardly used since March. I got a good look at the planets, and a lot of fluff in my eyes. I had forgotten the fuzzy lining of the binoculars case began to disintegrate some time ago, dusting everything in and around the case with what’s probably polyester fibers. Seriously, little black fuzzy bits that static cling to every surface, get in my eyes, it’s probably not good to be breathing around them, and I know it’s not good to wash them down the drain.

I intended to remove and discard the inner lining, but found it’s not a lining; rather, it’s part of the case’s fabric, whatever that’s called when two fabrics are completely fused together into one. What to do… how about a lining to cover the lining? I took careful measurements yesterday, then got out 3 candidates from the fabric stash.

Only the chicken fabric in quilting cotton was long enough, so chickens it is. I cut the pieces with a 1/2″ seam allowance,

(chicken fabric by Robert Kaufman according to its selvedge)

sewed the lining together with surprising ease, even around the dratted corners where I joined the side panels to the main part (handling slippery rayon for hours must have taught me a thing or two about sewing),

(I marked specific points along the edge with a bright pink rollerball pen so it would all line up properly)

laid it out next to the case to ensure it actually fit,

and began back-stitching it to the case. Here it is, about 1/3 done yesterday right before I lost the light:

It’s secret sideways chickens! Added bonus: the bright lining will mean I won’t go hunting for the dark lens caps inside a dark bag anymore.

The mask I made yesterday has secret chickens inside, too. Well, secret eggs and chicken legs, at least. No cord yet, because I’m too stupid today to make a 4-strand braid, apparently (actually, I blame the sprained finger). The two masks I made months ago have secret kitties on the moon inside:

While stitching through the thickest part of the mask, where the seams join, the sewing machine made a terrible clunk/grind noise and stopped picking up the lower thread. Ugh. It was just in the shop a few months ago for pulling the lower thread only halfway around the bobbin. It turns out that’s called a timing problem and costs $99 to fix. Thank goodness the technician wrote the diagnosis on the shop slip; knowing what it’s called is helpful. I spent 45 minutes yesterday learning what a timing problem is and tinkering with the machine and it’s working again. Flush with success (ha!), I also fixed the doohickey in the toilet tank that stopped working properly 3 days ago. Not so much luck with my only pair of sneakers, which went kablooey on Christmas Eve: I went shoe shopping today.

There might just be yarn in the next post.

A minor miracle on Boxing Day

Christmas was quiet. My county has a Stay At Home order in place so I am spending the holidays –and the furlough days from work — at home. A mid-day family phone call of caroling was a nice perk. The day was also dark and rainy, making sewing with navy thread on navy fabric impossible even though I was eager to sew. I tidied the apartment instead.

Remember the blouse I started in November? I could call it finished yesterday, 12/26. Yay! I put about 35 hours of work into this thing so I’m calling it a minor miracle that I stuck it through to the end.

It went from pieces:

To sewn together (which you have seen here before):

To something hemmed and finished:

Ignore the goose bumps , and glamour shots have to wait until the day I can actually visit someone who will wield the camera.

The pattern is Ngaio Blouse by Scroop Patterns (link). I made size 36 in size small for the top half and went out to size 40 for the bottom half, starting at the waist shaping. I also lengthened the sleeves by 2 inches.

Things I did well:

• I wrote down the needle size and stitch tension, so when I came back to it after a few days’ break and may have used the sewing machine for something else in the interim, I didn’t have to guess.
• I noticed (right before cutting!) the fabric’s print is directional and arranged all the paper pieces so the print would be right side up.
• I thought ahead and fussy cut the front gather strip so the large flower was right side up and on top.
• I picked the right size for me.

Things I learned:

• Check the fabric before it’s cut at the fabric store. A section of my fabric has far less saturated colors than the rest of it, noticeable in one of the lower front halves and one sleeve. I would have grabbed another bolt had I seen this.
• No chalk or sewing pen I own will make a mark on this fabric, and I have 5 types in the sewing box. I ended up using a regular ballpoint pen, very carefully and with low pressure, to mark certain areas, and made tailor’s tacks to mark the darts.
• When using the rotary cutter to trim back the seam allowance that connects the top and bottom sections of a front, be careful to not cut across the front bodice of what you have already assembled. Because then you get to undo it all, cut a new piece, and sew it again more sewing practice, yay! Thank goodness I had extra fabric.
• Why is rayon not called fray-on? I mean, the cut edges just shredded to pieces while I was trying to get them tucked into seam finishes.
• Whacking the desk in sheer frustration after trying to fold fabric over into a tidy sleeve seam is a good way to mildly sprain one’s ring finger. It is puffy and sore today. There may also have been was unladylike language involved, and I’m certain the neighbor downstairs heard me when I finally lost it.
• Cut notches outward instead of inward when working with a fabric that frays like mad. It will make finishing seams easier.

In knitting, I say that what goes on on the inside of a sweater is nobody’s business. The same can be said for a sewn blouse, but as this is intended as an educational record, here is the inside of one armscye, with finished sleeve seams:

The part at the top of the photo is where I got into trouble. After sewing and unpicking 3 times (having to wait for a bright, sunny day each time), the fabric was dreadfully frayed, so I left it. It’s at least stitched over so it will stop fraying at some point. Every time I got it neatly folded over in that area, it came undone as soon as it hit the presser foot (hence the desk whacking). You can see I had less trouble with the seam finishing at the bottom of the photo.

All in all, I am pleased with the top. The print is not my style, really (after trekking to 3 fabric stores, I went with “least objectionable” rather than “print I like the most”), but I will wear it with pride.

ADDENDUM: How much did it cost? The pattern was $12.00 (and I used it twice; talk about a bargain when it comes to dollars per hour of entertainment!) I used my own ink and paper and tape to put the pattern together. I paid $10.58 for 1.5 yards of fabric and used about 2/3 of it, so about $7.05 of fabric. Close to half a big spool of thread (lots of ripping and re-sewing). Let’s say $21.00.

Pausing for a gloat

Some hard crafting time in the past 2 weeks and I have the Ngaio Blouse with non-sheet fabric assembled as of this evening, photographed poorly in evening light:

I will indulge in some gloating tonight, because I got the underarm seam of each sleeve to match up precisely with its corresponding side seam, something I typically fail to accomplish even with stick-to-itself quilting cotton, and this rayon stuff likes to slide around and spontaneously eject pins before I can get the fabric near the presser foot.

What remains? I need to finish the interior sleeve seams and neck, hem the sleeves, possibly adjust the back darts, then hem it and done. Maybe 5 more hours of work? So much could still go awry that I will enjoy this bit of triumph.

Kobold update

(Two posts in one day… whoa, right?) The Kobold apparently only wanted attention, to be publicly recognized for his work — see previous post — to put me back in his good graces because in the past 10 minutes, I found my size 4 needles (the 16″ circulars and the double-points) AND the sleeve for my ground pad that’s been “missing” for over a year. It makes for a promising evening; I can get started on the hats that have been circling in my thoughts for weeks. May Sunday be good to you, too!

Casey Skirt mock-up

After 5 hours of diligent work yesterday in which I applied the patch pockets and made the waistband, the skirt mock-up I started on October 26 is ready for public view. I spent at least 3.75 hours on that waistband. You might be familiar with the steps: read the instructions and stitch, then unpick the stitches and squint at the instructions, more stitching/”drat”ing/unpicking, and then checking the designer’s blog where she has a tutorial that makes the instructions make sense.

I do vaguely remember this I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing feeling in December 1994, when I learned to knit from a pamphlet, and for the following year or two as I upgraded from beginner to intermediate, except back then an online tutorial wasn’t an option. The learning curve for a new cake recipe is far less steep than this garment-sewing one and you can usually still eat a lopsided cake, and you can frog and re-knit a wonky hat, but sewing… well, mistakes feel far more permanent.

Behold, more fancy old bed sheet:

Yes, I am wearing my winter slippers which rather spoil the effect, but brrrr!, it got cold in here. You see long orange threads across the waistband because while I properly sewed it down on one side, I saved time by only basting its hem. You see small orange actual stitches peeking out here and there where I veered off course when attaching the waistband. I also pinned the skirt hem because I already have loads of hemming practice. The sheet doesn’t show the pleats at their best, but you get the idea. I like the large pockets.

The pattern is Casey Skirt by Brijee Patterns (link). Looking at it from the side (and I am not leaning, just not very good at mirror photos), I like the general look, and need go down 2 sizes in the waistband and at least one size in the skirt when I make the real thing. Yay, a successful mock-up!

My beginner status means I can’t tell on these print-at-home patterns which markings, among all those dots used to line up the pattern pages so you can tape them together properly, are actual pattern markings that need to be transferred to the fabric when cutting. I missed a few dots on this one that I had to mark after I assembled pieces. I highlighted them and wrote notes on the paper pattern so I have a better time of it next go.

The household Kobold must still be unhappy with me: my size 4 knitting needles remain misplaced.

Flowers in November

Looking out at the gloomy, very windy day today (seriously windy… entire building is shaking so much that it mimics a mild earthquake), I decided to stay in and write up my notes for projects I made months ago. One is the Flower Basket Shawl that I made with the yarn I got at Stitches West’s (remember the days of in-person gatherings?) pajama party:

Pattern: Flower Basket Shawl by Evelyn A. Clark, as published in Interweave Knits, Fall 2004 (Ravelry link)
Yarn: 135g and 560 yards Red Heart It’s A Wrap Rainbow, 55% acrylic, 45% cotton, in color Parfait
Needles: US size 6
Size: 60″ across top, 27″ tall
Started 3/29 and finished 4/17/2020

The pattern has you start at the top center and work downward, increasing all the way. As the giant skein started winding down into the paler purple, I ran a lifeline after each pattern repeat so I could knit to nearly the end of the skein. When the yarn ran out, I ripped back to the last lifeline, confident I had enough to finish the border. The result is 14 repeats total and 90% of the yarn used;  the 15g remaining is not enough to work another repeat and went in the scraps bin.

I did not enjoy working with this yarn. Its construction is 4 skinny strands barely plied together, running almost parallel, which meant my needle kept trying to slip between plies rather than catch all 4 strands at once. I had to rescue left-behind strands from a row below with a crochet hook too many times. When I got to the first color change, I realized the reason for its construction:

It’s not a gradient. At each color change, one strand is swapped out and knotted together with the next color. Ugh, it meant I had to leave 2 tails at each single-strand color change — so many ends to weave in! From a yarn factory’s perspective I imagine it’s easy to have the machine do the chop and knot at regular intervals and it probably saves money to not really ply it; for the knitter, it’s a gripe. The strand was only slightly longer at the knot, which meant I had to pull it longer to leave enough tail to weave in for both strands, which meant that particular ply was now a good bit shorter than the other 3, which meant I had to run my hand over a length of working yarn constantly throughout the project to bring the plies into alignment, leaving a little bunched-up puddle of yarn barf sitting on top of the skein. Fortunately, it’s not a clingy yarn so it was only a minor annoyance.

Unblocked, the Flower Basket Shawl in this yarn has a texture I quite like:

This bodes well for wherever it ends up living someday, no severe pinning required for it to look good. When blocking, I deliberately did not pin the border points, so they curl up a bit.

My dislike of the yarn’s construction notwithstanding, this Flower Basket Shawl came out well. The yarn is a better yarn choice than what I picked for the one I made for me in 2005, a strand each in 2 colors of alpaca held together, in which the lace pattern is muddled-looking.

Mine is warm, but not stunning.

 

 

 

It was bound to happen

You readers who know me may find this unbelievable (laugh if you must), but late October marks my first yarn purchase since Stitches West in February. While the total mileage of the yarn supply at home has increased in the 8 months since then, that was due only to industrious spinning. What tempted me, finally? This, which arrived in the mail yesterday!

I want to make the Crown Prince Square Shawl from “Knitted Lace of Estonia” (have had the book for years) and did not have enough laceweight, so I special ordered Reliquary II from A Verb for Keeping Warm in Vermillion. This was freshly dyed just 10 days ago and is pretty indeed in the sunshine on my fire escape.

In knitting project news, I am completely thwarted in the hats I want to make because tools are apparently sheltering in place also, wherever their place might be. Where in blazes have the size 4 needles gone? I can’t possibly have left them anywhere. Grump.

Cutting, spinning, seaming

I managed to start a second mock-up garment during my time off from work. Here it is, at the not-exciting cutting stage on Monday. I spent the rest of Monday in 2 fabric shops, then at the Laundromat to wash what I bought, and then the daylight had gone.

It’s a 1940s-style skirt. Tuesday was for sewing. I have front and back seams sewn, zipper in, and pleats pressed and basted. That’s as far as I got by noon and I went back to work on Wednesday. (Earning the money to pay for one’s hobbies cuts into hobby time something fierce, yes?)

On Tuesday afternoon, I met a friend for physically-distanced spinning in the park. It was warm and not windy, absolutely perfect for handling fluff in the outdoors. Too much wind and your fiber supply blows into the path of the twist. We had a lovely chat in between people stopping to ask us what we were doing. Part of my spinning guild’s activities is to do demonstrations so I’m used to answering the public’s questions. I spun up nearly half of the two bundles of Sincere Sheep’s 80% Romeldale, 20% alpaca blend:

This is about 4.5 hours of work because it is a fine spin. I intend to make a heavier-than-laceweight 2-ply. We’ll just ignore the 6 bobbins of Polwarth/silk I spun last month that are waiting to be plied.

I continue to work, slowly, on the linen skirt. As part of flatlining, I’m hand-felling the interior seams before I sew on its long panel at the bottom. In its first iteration, I left all raw edges on the inside because I wasn’t sure how to handle them. Now I know this method and because I failed miserably at doing this by machine, I’m doing it by hand. It’s a 6-panel skirt so I have 12 of these to sew.

At the top of the photo is half the invisible zipper, also sewn in by hand (I can’t get an invisible zipper foot for my machine, it seems), and in the middle you see the interior seam with felling in progress on one half. The green-ish tinge underneath is a postcard I slipped between the lining fabric and the skirt fabric. Without it, I will (a) sew through the lining to the skirt fabric, which you’re not supposed to do, which leads to (b) sewing the entire thing to the leg of whatever I’m wearing. I speak from experience on point (b). Have you ever stood up and found a project dangling from your pantleg? Such fun.

And in park news, the Ferris/observation wheel got its cars installed last week and is in service, after being on hold for 6 months. I intend to ride it before it’s taken down. Another type of spinning altogether.

Onward.

Ngaio Blouse mock-up

I made great progress on the blouse mock-up yesterday and finished it as far as I’m going to for a test piece. I got loads more practice on finishing seams and the later ones are far neater than the early ones visible in yesterday’s photo.

Ignoring kindly, please, that I sewed in the left sleeve inside out, are those beautifully-sewn armscyes or what? I am so proud. Nary a wrinkle and both done on the first go. It helps that I have years of experience in easing knitted sleeves into armholes of sweaters. The same technique is needed here — pinching it off into halves and quarters as you pin it in place with 623 pins so you’re essentially juggling a porcupine while sewing — except a woven fabric is less forgiving. You can’t fudge it. I took great pains to prevent any folded-over fabric bits while stitching around. I’m also proud of the ruching, which took me a good 20 minutes to get folded down into a pleasing position.

The pattern is Ngaio Blouse by Scroop Patterns (link), and I bought it as a PDF that prints out on a bunch of pages I then glued together. It comes with two versions of the instructions, short and long. I used the long instructions which I can’t praise enough; I misunderstood step 8, despite the (d’oh!) clear image accompanying it, and overlooked part of step 12, the back inside neck finishing, so you see its raw edge in the photo. I dared to make one major adjustment before cutting the fabric: Because I am different sizes on top and bottom, I cut out the smaller size for the top part and when I hit the waist shaping heading down toward the bottom part, I drew a line down to the larger size and cut on that diagonal across size lines. Such a bold move.

Here’s a bad selfie. Small sigh… It’s a bit tight in the lower half even though I measured said half beforehand; I am wearing stockings and slip and skirt, adding bulk, but I also know I gained weight sitting at the sewing machine and having standing-over-the-sink snacks as meals for 4 days. However, this sheet fabric is pretty stiff and thicker than the fashion fabric will be and that’s a factor to consider. I like the neckline: modest and doesn’t gape (amazing! it’s a perennial problem for the small-busted ladies), and will allow me to wear a necklace.

This is now the fanciest bed sheet in the house.

Learned: When you sew ease stitching along the curved edge at the top of the sleeve, it’s going to pucker ever so slightly. It’s supposed to; don’t pull it out straight and then waste time fiddling with scrap fabric and stitch tension thinking your machine is broken, you ninny. The puckering shortens that curve, and will make easing the next sleeve into the next armhole much easier, maybe only 523 pins needed.

Things to note for when I’m ready to make the real thing:

1. I need to practice sewing darts and cutting fabric along curves.
2. Mark the point of waist shaping with a dot or tacks so I can more easily see where to pivot the stitching. I used 2 pins, risking running the needle over that spot.
3. Cut the strip that holds the ruching in the front 1/2″ longer because I, the beginner, need a bit more space to finish its ends properly. 1/4″ more per end should do it.
4. The shoulder seams are in the right place. I might cut the armhole and sleeve cap one size larger but leave the upper front pieces the same size they are now.
5. I like the sleeves their un-hemmed length, so will cut them longer.
6. Make sure the sleeve isn’t inside out. This will be completely avoidable once I use a fabric with two distinct sides.

Overall, such a good experience. It’s my first shaped garment ever. [In the only sewing class I ever took, 20+ years ago, I made a literal t-shirt — straight sides, straight sleeves — with quilting cotton fabric. Unflattering as heck.] I have my eye on Scroop’s The Miramar Dress as a potential future project. Imagine, a dress in which I am in control of top and bottom sizes and can avoid the back getting hung up on the, ahem, rear porch. The possibilities…

I am off for a walk to see if the fabric store is open — they’re not answering the phone, but that wasn’t unusual for them before March, and a 4-mile walk will do me good — and I will cook today even though the skirt awaits finishing.

Coming apart at the seams

An apt title, I believe. Ah, 2020… I need not detail it; we’re all aware of the situation. My last post was right before the Sheltering In Place began, the day I constructed a raddle for the (canceled) weaving class I was to take 2 weeks later. I went to Stitches West and to Monterey the last 2 weekends of February, and then things got weird, and busy.

I can count myself among the lucky ones: neither I nor friends/family have been sick, and my job is (a) one I can do mostly from home and (b) not on the list of laid-off positions. The 10-second commute is divine, but the very long work hours for the first 3 months at home wore me down to the point of panic attacks, and I’m feeling anxiety and depression symptoms I haven’t experienced in years, partly due to workload and partly to isolation. At least I can recognize and deal with it, to a degree. On top of those emotions, I have days when I feel angry and resentful because I’m a salary and not hourly employee, so when it approaches a 14-hour day, my pay is down at 50%. Hours have since scaled down to near normal, but they’re frantic and busy days and I’m not motivated to craft much after the work day is over. So, emotionally, I’m holding it together, but barely on some days if I may say so. Walks in the park are helpful.

Why, hello there, Pollen Face!

This week, I feel dang fantastic. Reason? I am on vacation! Not traveling, mind. I planned to join my parents at a lake this week, but when the cancellation deadline came, we made the decision to not go: the surrounding regions were on fire, with freeways closed, etc., so we would have had smoky air and nagging fear (although evacuating with a single suitcase wouldn’t be too bad) while there. I kept the vacation time and feel interested in life for the first time in months. I read several books and took care of household tasks. I am not sleeping normal hours, brain wakes me at 4:30am, absolutely raring to go with projects or reading. Never fear, I don’t “rar'” that early because I am certain the fellow downstairs would feel it un-neighborly.

Vacation means oodles of crafting time, and the first thing I did was address the problems with the skirt I sewed 3 years ago and have worn exactly 3 times. I don’t wear it because of what me the knitter would call a gauge accident: 6.5″ too big in the waist (well, now a little less so; I haven’t gained The COVID Nineteen, but it lurks there, threatening from the kitchen door). The times I wore the skirt, I used safety pins to bunch it up and paired it with a shirt long enough to cover the bunching. I painstakingly ripped all the wee stitching of its hems and seams on Sunday and Monday and re-planned the project.

Improvement goals:

1. Take in the waist, naturally.
2. Flatlining. Intriguing thing I read about and want to try.
3. Curve the top by trimming the fabric. Apparently it should be 1″ shorter in the middle than at the sides, to accommodate the hip curve, before finishing the top.
4. Add pockets. What was I thinking, making a skirt without pockets when I have complete say in its design?

As of Wednesday mid-day, I have it sewn into two halves and have half the invisible zipper in place. I am not speedy, even with the sewing machine.

The second sewing project is ambitious for a novice like me. Some shops have opened up, but fitting rooms have not, and shops largely don’t take returns. Why waste only money on something that may not fit me, when I can waste absolutely hours and hours of time trying to make something well out of my skill level that may not fit me?  [big grin goes here… uh, WordPress has changed and I don’t know how to insert an emoticon]

Truly, it’s not time wasted. I am learning important skills that I’ve wanted to learn for a long time, I just have never applied myself to sewing the way I did to knitting. Here is a mock-up of a blouse, using fabric I cut from a retired queen-size sheet (no money wasted on fabric). This is the inside of the front on the left and the inside of the back on the right:

As it’s a learner piece, I’m using orange top thread, cream lower thread, and blue for hand-sewn bits so I can clearly see what I did. Learned so far:

1. Darts are marked and sewn from the inside. None of my sewing reference books mention this. They all say “mark and sew the dart” like I’m clairvoyant. Fortunately, I own clothing with darts that I could examine. Nope, not a topless household here, waiting with goosebumps for the sewing to be done; we own shirts already.
2. How to neaten up the cut edges inside to create nice(r) seams. My stitching along narrow edges leaves a lot to be desired (photographic evidence above); still, it does the trick and covers the raw edges, and that bit’s not seen from the outside. 
3. Hems and seams are not interchangeable terms. They get separate chapters in the books for a reason.
4. Getting up and down off the floor to cut pattern pieces is fabulous exercise, although comes with attendant aches and pains the next day. Question: continue “exercising” this way, or clear an area on the dining table for the cutting mat next project?

Random hooray: Friday, my last work day before vacation, a blue jay came into the bedroom when I opened the window to put out a ladybug, and visited with me for a few minutes before leaving again. It made my day. He kindly did not poop on the bed when he hopped over to inspect its striped coverlet, good bird.

Random gripe: Gads, I miss the public library. E-books just are not the same.

Cheerio! Off I go to put the pedal, carefully and slowly, to the metal, for hours and hours to produce a few more seams. Reaching a hem may be too much to ask from only 1 day of work. Today I seam, perhaps tomorrow I hem.