from jonquil, the craft virus

Years ago, when Erica Wilson was newly famous, I stitched a few crewel panels. I really enjoyed working with the wool threads; I backed several of them to fit pillow forms and gave them as gifts. I think Mom still has one. I was going to try bargello needlepoint, but H tried it first and was so successful at it I knew I'd never be as good, so I although I did a few simpler needlepoint panels I never really took up needlepoint. I'd tried cross-stitch as a child and got dreadfully bored with it, so I never was tempted as an adult.

My Grandmother tatted lace. All our pillowcases when I was growing up had either cotton lace edging, or pink and green and red flowers or scenes embroidered on them by my mom. I was never tempted to try either one. I took a course in knitting at the local community college, and finished exactly half--front, one sleeve, half the back--of a heathery grey wool sweater before I got achingly bored with it and gave it to a friend who was an avid knitter to finish and keep. I tried a weaving class, and made a loom of a canvas stretching frame, with an afro comb as a beater. It was fun, but without a large investment in a huge floor loom, I didn't see it becoming of practical use. We tried our hand at carding and spinning, and while it was fun, again there didn't seem to be a practical use for the product. I'm glad I tried it, but I have no regrets for not sticking with it.

I learned to crochet, and used up all the odds and ends of yarn--and had to buy more!--to make an afghan, and several Dr. Who scarves. Which, now that scarves are back in, seem to have vanished into another dimension. Time to yarn-shop and limber up the hook again, I guess.

For several years I enjoyed cleaning and repairing old quilts, which led to work on antique women's "whites," petticoats and other undergarments, and shirtwaists, and baby clothes. The increasing problem finding period-appropriate materials began to be a factor, though, as fabric manufacturers phased out all-cotton lawns, batistes, muslins, in favor of synthetic blends, and cotton and silk threads became harder to find and more expensive.

I cleaned, repaired, and restored antique and vintage stuffed animals (mohair bears, mostly) and dolls (Raggedy Ann, Andy, and the like), repairing or making replacements for their clothes. I even had a few magazine articles published on the hows and wherefores, and made a cover, once. I hand-stitched clothes, or modified baby clothes, to dress bears and dolls, and had an article or two on that subject published, too. During a hurricane once, I made a set of clothing, including underwear and caps, for a pair of tiny baby dolls, entirely by hand, stitching by the light of oil lamps, as the electricity was out. It kept my head down, my hands busy, and my mind off the storm. And I trimmed tiny straw hats, with miniscule silk flowers and thread-narrow satin ribbons, for seven-inch vintage dolls I'd dressed in little girl "dress-up" clothes. I repaired and restored original clothing for vintage dolls like Tiny Tears and Betsy McCall, and made copies of garments too far gone to restore. I learned to clean hard plastic and vinyl dolls, and how to reset rooted hair--I still have my teeny curlers and end papers. Somewhere.

A friend who'd gotten married in an antique dress asked me to repair the cluny lace between the damask skirt sections and attach a waistband, so she could wear the dress without feeling it might fall apart. I couldn't find age-appropriate materials for the work, my eyes found it increasingly difficult to focus as sharply as necessary for extended periods, and my fingers grew increasingly clumsy with the fine needles needed to do the work. It was more struggle than fun, and I realized it had been getting that way for a while, so I had to tell her, regretfully, I couldn't finish the work.

I took a calligraphy class, and have lettered hundreds of certificates and awards for the office where I used to work. I've lettered things for friends and for myself, too.

I've always fought the sewing machine, it was never a tool but a nemesis since the Home Ec dress debacle in high school. But mending had gotten beyond the capabilities of my hand sewing. We bought a simple, sturdy machine a couple of years ago, and I discovered a real joy in making simple things. I love shopping for gorgeous fabrics that coordinate rather than match. I could probably piece a quilt top on the machine, but that's too involved and nit-picky for me now; I'm all into instant gratification these days. Table runners, simple curtains and valances, cushion covers, and gift bags, with or without linings, are fun to design, quick to finish, and appreciated by those who get them as gifts.

from jonquil, the craft virus

Years ago, when Erica Wilson was newly famous, I stitched a few crewel panels. I really enjoyed working with the wool threads; I backed several of them to fit pillow forms and gave them as gifts. I think Mom still has one. I was going to try bargello needlepoint, but H tried it first and was so successful at it I knew I'd never be as good, so I although I did a few simpler needlepoint panels I never really took up needlepoint. I'd tried cross-stitch as a child and got dreadfully bored with it, so I never was tempted as an adult.

My Grandmother tatted lace. All our pillowcases when I was growing up had either cotton lace edging, or pink and green and red flowers or scenes embroidered on them by my mom. I was never tempted to try either one. I took a course in knitting at the local community college, and finished exactly half--front, one sleeve, half the back--of a heathery grey wool sweater before I got achingly bored with it and gave it to a friend who was an avid knitter to finish and keep. I tried a weaving class, and made a loom of a canvas stretching frame, with an afro comb as a beater. It was fun, but without a large investment in a huge floor loom, I didn't see it becoming of practical use. We tried our hand at carding and spinning, and while it was fun, again there didn't seem to be a practical use for the product. I'm glad I tried it, but I have no regrets for not sticking with it.

I learned to crochet, and used up all the odds and ends of yarn--and had to buy more!--to make an afghan, and several Dr. Who scarves. Which, now that scarves are back in, seem to have vanished into another dimension. Time to yarn-shop and limber up the hook again, I guess.

For several years I enjoyed cleaning and repairing old quilts, which led to work on antique women's "whites," petticoats and other undergarments, and shirtwaists, and baby clothes. The increasing problem finding period-appropriate materials began to be a factor, though, as fabric manufacturers phased out all-cotton lawns, batistes, muslins, in favor of synthetic blends, and cotton and silk threads became harder to find and more expensive.

I cleaned, repaired, and restored antique and vintage stuffed animals (mohair bears, mostly) and dolls (Raggedy Ann, Andy, and the like), repairing or making replacements for their clothes. I even had a few magazine articles published on the hows and wherefores, and made a cover, once. I hand-stitched clothes, or modified baby clothes, to dress bears and dolls, and had an article or two on that subject published, too. During a hurricane once, I made a set of clothing, including underwear and caps, for a pair of tiny baby dolls, entirely by hand, stitching by the light of oil lamps, as the electricity was out. It kept my head down, my hands busy, and my mind off the storm. And I trimmed tiny straw hats, with miniscule silk flowers and thread-narrow satin ribbons, for seven-inch vintage dolls I'd dressed in little girl "dress-up" clothes. I repaired and restored original clothing for vintage dolls like Tiny Tears and Betsy McCall, and made copies of garments too far gone to restore. I learned to clean hard plastic and vinyl dolls, and how to reset rooted hair--I still have my teeny curlers and end papers. Somewhere.

A friend who'd gotten married in an antique dress asked me to repair the cluny lace between the damask skirt sections and attach a waistband, so she could wear the dress without feeling it might fall apart. I couldn't find age-appropriate materials for the work, my eyes found it increasingly difficult to focus as sharply as necessary for extended periods, and my fingers grew increasingly clumsy with the fine needles needed to do the work. It was more struggle than fun, and I realized it had been getting that way for a while, so I had to tell her, regretfully, I couldn't finish the work.

I took a calligraphy class, and have lettered hundreds of certificates and awards for the office where I used to work. I've lettered things for friends and for myself, too.

I've always fought the sewing machine, it was never a tool but a nemesis since the Home Ec dress debacle in high school. But mending had gotten beyond the capabilities of my hand sewing. We bought a simple, sturdy machine a couple of years ago, and I discovered a real joy in making simple things. I love shopping for gorgeous fabrics that coordinate rather than match. I could probably piece a quilt top on the machine, but that's too involved and nit-picky for me now; I'm all into instant gratification these days. Table runners, simple curtains and valances, cushion covers, and gift bags, with or without linings, are fun to design, quick to finish, and appreciated by those who get them as gifts.