Okay, so I broke my machine yesterday. It was all me, too. I went in there with a tiny pliers, trying to unstick the bobbin, and suddenly I had a handful of parts. Oops. Naturally, being me, I was super-upset, but everyone said "eh, it happens" and proceeded to tell me about times past when they had broken machines. Which is about as helpful as formerly pregnant ladies telling currently pregnant ladies horror stories about being in labor. Thanks for letting me know you've been there, but still 100% embarassed about my machine being broken.
Whew, that metaphor kinda fell apart at the end there, didn't it? Just like my machine! Har har!
So I'm working on an ancient Singer right now--we get along fairly well, except occasionally it will seize up and vomit, especially when I'm attempting something tricky, like sewing in a straight line.
Eh. At least my buttonholes are coming out straight. *finally*
Meanwhile, I'm excited because I talked to the director at the Methodist church and choir practise is tonight. I'm looking forward to singing again. She said she needed sopranos too, so I was practising in the shower last night. Sure, I don't know the words to the Queen of the Night's aria, but thanks to "Amadeus" I can hit all those funny little notes.
Also, I was thinking about impending aunt-hood and getting excited all over again. One of the women at work today was stitching on a baby blanket at work during her break (seriously?! Who SEWS on their break?!) and I was thinking about making a blanket for Babys Lem & Gaboda, except that since I'm in Williamsburg I was thinking less blanket and more miniature tricorns. Because seriously. The only thing cuter than small children is small children in wee tricorns. Wee widdle tricorns. Awwwww...