Lately, I've been out of sorts because I don't have time to sew for my dolls anymore. The creative urges are still strong, the ideas that come to me in the middle of doing diagnostics for electronic databases (for school) and my fingers just start twitching like mad. I miss the motions of sorting through my not-so-secret stash of fabrics (textures, colors, patterns, drape) for something that is just perfect for my current mood and mindset; of cutting out patterns and marking darts; of lightly steaming partially sewn pieces of fabrics, pushing and pulling a threaded needle through fabric; of the umpteenth prick of the needle into my fingers, the ache in a neck spent bent over a machine all afternoon, the numbed butt-- I miss it all! I miss making something that just delights my senses and my longings to recreate that little something that I saw in a magazine, on television, walking by on my lunch hour, or appearing in my nocturnal slumber. I miss the 
satisfaction of something coming out just right-- or the frustration of something just missing the mark in every way possible. I miss the threads and tiny scraps of fabrics trailing all through my apartment from my saggy socks and I miss those moments at work when perplexed co-workers reach out to pull a length of cut thread from my collar or hair.
satisfaction of something coming out just right-- or the frustration of something just missing the mark in every way possible. I miss the threads and tiny scraps of fabrics trailing all through my apartment from my saggy socks and I miss those moments at work when perplexed co-workers reach out to pull a length of cut thread from my collar or hair. I don't miss the scattered pins, or the time spent on my knees sifting through the carpet fibers looking for those blasted near-invisible miniature spears just waiting to stab and pierce the unsuspecting toe or heel a month or two from now. And I don't miss that moment when completely satiated, I look up and survey the aftermath of the horrible storm my tiny 
apartment sustained during the frenzy. Every button back in the button jar; every pin back on the magnetic pin cushion, all the spools of thread recaptured from underneath tables and rewound, all the tiny scraps divided into a "someday crazy quilt" pile and the circular file, all the doll-sized pattern pieces accounted for (the jeans has 11 pieces!) and replaced in their envelopes for another afternoon.
apartment sustained during the frenzy. Every button back in the button jar; every pin back on the magnetic pin cushion, all the spools of thread recaptured from underneath tables and rewound, all the tiny scraps divided into a "someday crazy quilt" pile and the circular file, all the doll-sized pattern pieces accounted for (the jeans has 11 pieces!) and replaced in their envelopes for another afternoon.Love it and hate it-- I sorely miss sewing.
--Tinooseus
1 comment:
One can percieve very clearly your great love for the creativity and fun and mess of sewing. Happy Trailing Threads!
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