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Not Quite Working Magic


I think my sewing machine weighs about 50 pounds. Really. Maybe you can’t tell from the picture, but this baby is solid metal. 


The instructions make me chuckle and I’m reminded that this is the image I’m meant to aspire to. That’s why I’ve taken to wearing high heels anytime I sit down to sew.  Kidding, kidding. 


But I say all of this in the most affectionate way possible. I inherited this sewing machine from my mom. It’s the sewing machine she bought herself when she went off to college (and for those of you who are glancing back at the picture of the instruction booklet, no my mom did not go off to college in 1941).

When I open up the sewing machine and inhale the distinctive thread-y smell, the one that makes me think of the miles and miles of thread that have flown through the inner workings of this machine, I picture my mom. I remember dresses she made me when I was little, dresses she made my doll, and various other garments that have flowed out of the machine as if by magic.

“Magic” is not the word I would use to describe what happens when I sit down at the machine. Couple that with the fact that I have to lug this 50 pound monster across the house and onto the dining room table every time I want to use it, and you can probably understand why I don’t get it out often.

I had the idea a few weeks ago to permanently settle the sewing machine on the desk where I used to sit and do my devotions in the morning. Since Mark rarely if ever sits at the desk, he didn’t mind, and it’s only me that has to muddle around bewildered with my coffee cup in the morning, trying to find a place to set it down.

I have done some more sewing, since I haven’t had to move the machine whenever I want to use it. With the help of a friend, my renewed enthusiasm for sewing has given birth to a cover for my new e-reader:


If you’re impressed, it’s only because the pictures were taken so far away. It’s really not that impressive.

Here's the inside:


Here's the inside after I wiped off all the finger smudges. I was just going to include this cleaned-up picture, but the contrast was too funny. I had to swallow my pride and share:



But I have high hopes. I’m planning to try to make another cover now that I’ve gotten the hang of all the tricky steps in making this one. Maybe, just maybe, I can become proficient enough with this little craft to turn it into an adoption fund raiser.

Yes, adoption fund raiser. More to come on that tomorrow.

In the meantime, I just might get out my cutting board and some scraps and see whether I can force my sewing machine to produce some magic for me.

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