No problem, she said.
No one can screw this project up, she said.
Okay, let’s do it, I agreed. So after 30 years of living and breathing, I went under my mom’s guiding hand and turned on the sewing machine. A couple of hours later I came-to and she told me to get into the car. We needed fabric.
And off to Jo-Ann’s we went! I was excited, picturing this like the library of textiles. I’d be sure to love it.
Instead it was like a horror film.
[cue screams of horror]
This was moments before I started getting dizzy and off-balance. So I quickly focused on the 50% off sign, which can ground even the most vertigo-ed of victims.
After finally just closing my eyes and pointing to two fabrics, we had them cut and made our way back home.
We got to work pinning the fabrics (after a good wash), while I also tried to hold a ‘blank white wall’ intervention with my mom.
I convinced myself that she was going for the “tuberculosis asylum” look in honor of my great-grandma who was admitted in the 40s or 50s, but failed to forget that they probably would’ve posted cards up on the wall at least.
In other news, she did paint the living room Eggshell White or something like that. Progress is being made, people.
After we were done pinning, mom suggested we go to the sewing corner she created for me.
Yay! My very own sewing corner!!
…In the darkest corner of the house.
It was like Flowers in the
Attic Basement and was the one time I wish everything were painted white. Don’t sweatshops even have painted walls?
She patiently showed me all the nuts and bolts, and I quickly got to work. Loved using the 40+ years machine- It felt solid and sturdy.
A while later, this
square blanket magically appeared.
Check out the bottom. Now that’s what I’m talking about! Nothing like a good steady decline, if I don’t say so myself.
Baby better appreciate this.