Spam Spotting (Not the delicious snack meat - the other kind)

This has absolutely nothing to do with sewing or sewing machines or even ironing boards. But, I've noticed that my favorite sewing group on Facebook has been getting bombarded with spam recently. So, I've been making a little noise about it and a few of my fellow group members have told me that they aren't seeing any of it. I don't want to "share" spam, so I figured I'd post some screen shots of what I'm seeing here and include a little additional info that wouldn't fit in a FB post.

Here's a sample of the sort of off-topic junk that I've been seeing a lot of over the past week or so:

This one is a video, apparently about commercial fishing. Some of the stuff that has been posted lately is actually mildly interesting. There was one about poured epoxy counter tops that I actually watched, although it didn't explain how the process works and was generally just three minutes' worth of useless eye candy. Since this stuff is posted by people with fake profiles (more on that in a second), I'm not inclined to click on anything in the posts to find out more. 

They've all been short bits of video on random topics that might be of interest to almost anyone. But, why post them in a sewing group? What's the incentive? Yes, it's possible that a legitimate member of the group found this interesting and, despite the fact that it's completely off-topic, felt compelled to share it with us. But, the people who are posting this junk aren't legitimate members of the group. And, the sources of the original posts are questionable too. Let's have a look. 

First, as you can see, this video was posted not to my timeline but directly to the sewing group "Madam Sew." It was shared to the group by an "Alexander Johnston," who actually is a member of the group. Except. . . that she's almost certainly not a real person. Here's what comes up when you click on "her" FB profile name (the red marks are mine): 

I don't really believe that's "Alexander" in the profile photo. One thing I've noticed about these spammer accounts is that the profile pictures are always a different flavor of eye candy. Some of them have been overtly sexy. This one is a little more subtle, but you've got the long, long hair, the thin, tan legs, the cute little white sneakers, and the suggestive arrangement of clothing so that you can't really be sure that she's actually wearing anything under that jacket. Trust me, it's a sexy photo and it's meant to be sexy. It's exactly the sort of photo that a significant number of guys would be inclined to click on and send a friend request to. Which makes it even more suspicious that they're posting this stuff in a sewing group. I think we all agree that guys are a tiny minority in the amateur sewing world. If "Alexander" is looking to add more guy friends to her FB friends list, there are lots of groups that I'd consider more promising.  

Also note that "Alexander" has only two items on her timeline: an update to her profile picture (shown above) and an update to her cover photo. Both on the same date, November 15th of last year. Nothing before that or since then. She's been on FB for a roughly three months and has posted nothing to her own timeline. It's as though her entire account was created for the sole purpose of sharing some random video about fishing to our little sewing group. To me, that's weird. 

Then there's that Friends list of hers. "Alexander" has 84 friends. If you open her entire friend list (which I did), you'll see that the vast majority of her "friends" appear to be Vietnamese guys, with a handful of Arab guys and less than 5 other females thrown in for good measure. I have nothing against Arabs or anyone from Vietnam. But, "Alexander" doesn't look Arabic or Vietnamese to me. Most people have at least a few friends who look a lot like themselves. That's just human nature. Not "Alexander," though. She's apparently a sexy, young international woman of mystery with a particular interest in commercial fishing and sewing and surprisingly few gal friends. 

Then we have the page where "Alexander" found the fish video and shared it from, "I love you since 1892 - Historical Fiction." What an odd name for a FB page. Especially one which seems to have absolutely no posts about 1892 or historical fiction or romance. 

It has no confirmed page owner, but it's managed by about a dozen people, mostly from Vietnam and the Philippines. A few in the US. It's been around since August of 2017 and has a three-year history of posting pretty much nothing but random videos like this one.

I have no idea what these people are up to. Maybe they just have too much time on their hands and really like posting and sharing short video clips about random topics for our entertainment. But, that seems unlikely. I'm pretty sure they're up to something that I don't want to be a part of. And, even if they aren't, I didn't join a sewing group to watch videos of snakes eating frogs or commercial fishing boats at work. It looks like a spammer ring which FB is unwilling to deal with. So, all we can do is report their posts to the group admins and block each fake "member" as they pop up.

For what it's worth, I like Spam, the kind that comes in a can and inspired the classic eponymous Monty Python hit song. It's delicious. But, that has nothing to do with my interest in sewing.

Old Ironing Boards, Pink Houses, John Mellencamp, and Learjets?

I know I've mentioned that I am really into company histories. I don't know why, but I find them very interesting. Naturally I've read a bit about the Singer company. There's a lot written about that, probably because SIMANCO is a HUGE international company. But, I never expected to find any interesting stories about ironing boards. I never really gave them much thought, until I realized just what a major role they play in sewing.

My old ironing board came from an auction lot of household goods I bought back when I did a lot of auction buying (i.e. back when eBay was more like Craig's List or FB Marketplace). I rarely used that ironing board until very recently when I started sewing, so I'm really not sure why we kept it all these years. I guess because some of my favorite shirts get so wrinkly that even I wouldn't wear them without ironing them first. At any rate, my old board is sort of unstable and seems to be an odd size which regular covers don't fit. There's a little metal iron rack on the end of the board that is sort of handy for setting a hot iron on, but I'd have to say that overall I don't care much for my old ironing board. It works, but it always seems like it's about to fall over.

Last weekend I hit a local thrift store in search an oversized shirt and hoodie to practice my alteration skills. When I found an ironing board tucked away in the back of the store, I jumped on the opportunity. Got it for $4.50, with three covers! That's not the history I was planning to tell, though.

My "new" board  has a sticker like this on the bottom:

I'm Guessing There Was Never a "Seymour Man" Version

My sticker is a torn away where it says "Lady," but the rest of it is in very good condition. So, I could easily make out the part that says "Seymour Tool & Engineering Co. Inc., Seymour, Indiana." And, that definitely caught my eye. I grew up not far from Seymour, IN and I'd never heard of Seymour Tool & Engineering. I had to look it up. I found it, and I found a little story.

Seymour Man - John Mellencamp

Seymour, Indiana is also the home of John Mellencamp (aka Johnny Cougar). I'd estimate he was around 12 years old when my ironing board was being made in a factory right down the road from his house. I'm not sure which street John grew up on, but Seymour is a small town - I'm sure young John could have ridden his bike to the ironing board factory very easily. (That's not such a weird observation if you understand the attraction of a loading dock to a 12-year old boy on a bicycle.) So, you're wondering what the heck this has to do with anything. Well, nothing, really. I just find it sort of interesting that my ironing board, which I bought at a thrift store in a totally different state, came from the same town as one of my favorite "singer-songwriters." (As far as I know, he never wrote any songs about sewing machines, Singer or otherwise.) I used to aspire to play drums in a band for a living and as part of that effort I actually met Mellencamp's main drummer (Kenny Aronoff) at a drum clinic in Indianapolis. I also sat in with Roadmaster, the band that Mellencamp's bass player (Toby Meyer) left to become Mellencamp's bass player. I met him one night hanging out with Roadmaster at The Vogue. That's about as close as I ever got to being a rock star.

It's a Small World. Ironing Boards and Rock Stars Come from Some Unlikely Places.

Back to ironing boards. As unlikely as it sounds (to me, anyway), Seymour Tool & Engineering was an ironing board plant. To me, the name sounds more like the kind of place that would make race car engines but ironing boards is all they've ever made. It was two plants, actually. They started out in 1942 and were renamed in 1966, which means my "new" ironing board was made sometime between 1942 and 1966. For no particular reason, I'm guessing that my board was made closer to 1966 (about the time John Mellencamp started playing guitar). It's metal, with tubular metal legs. But, according to a lengthy Encyclopedia.com post about ironing boards (!), all ironing boards made in the U.S. since 1940 have been made of metal. So, I guess mine could actually be from as far back as 1942.

Maybe I Should Paint it Pink

In 1968, Seymour Tool was bought by Lear Siegler (LSI), which is kind of funny because LSI actually is the sort of company Seymour Tool and Engineering sounds like it would be. LSI was created in 1962 when The Siegler Corporation merged with the Lear Avionics company - the company which originally manufactured Learjets. The Siegler Corporation itself had been created about ten years earlier when Siegler Heating Co. combined with Siegler Enamel Range Co. So, Lady Seymour ironing boards was sort of the adopted child of parents who made furnaces, cooking stoves, and business jets. (I worked at LSI as a mechanic for several years after they became a major defense contractor.)

The name of the little ironing board company was changed once again to something a little more intuitive, Seymour Housewares Corp. in 1993, and in 1998 they were bought up by Home Products International. HPI declared bankruptcy in 2006, but they seem to have recovered. They have an active website and are, apparently, America's only domestic ironing board manufacturer. At least one of their Seymour plants is still operating. Sort of a "Chestnut Street Incident," you might say.

Ain't that America. . .  Little pink ironing boards for you and me.

Sewing Machines Versus Sewing

Wow.

That's all I can really say about an encounter I had this week on one of the FB sewing groups I belong to. No need to go into details, although the person I encountered didn't hesitate to post a lengthy diatribe about it in a wholly separate post! Suffice to say, I'll  be very, very cautious about replying to any more posts in that group. And, I definitely won't mention rescuing sewing machines there. I was initially inclined to post a follow-up explanation to the group's page, but I ultimately decided that anyone who could make that much of an issue out of what I posted would misinterpret subsequent explanations just as badly. Frankly, I suspect the individual in question is a bit unstable. So, I blocked her. That should safely eliminate the possibility of any more misunderstandings.

But, wow. Seriously. I was taken aback at the response. Like stepping on a landmine while hiking through a state park. Just totally unexpected (and, IMO, unwarranted, but whatever). Kind of took the fun out of that group for me.

What a Waste! Look at all those machines. . . 

I've known since I got involved in sewing that I am at least as interested in sewing machines as I am in sewing. I'm not alone. There are several surprisingly large groups of us on FB with very specific interests in particular types of machines. Some are probably oriented mostly toward maintaining specific machines to keep them sewing, but others are clearly for those of us who truly appreciate the machines for their own sake. Fixing them. Restoring them. Saving even the most hopeless-appearing causes from the scrap yard - or worse, from being turned into cutesy tractor-shaped ornaments. I am definitely among the latter group (the restorers, *not* the people who turn sewing machines into ornaments - I dislike those people!).

Seems a little difficult to draw a bright line between sewing and sewing machines until you realize that you can sew without using a machine at all. Thus, it sort of seems like anyone who sews with a machine would naturally be interested in the machines. But, that's not really fair. I use a computer all the time and I could not possibly care less about its internal workings. As long as it works.

Yes. To be clear, I would go into a burned out factory to rescue sewing machines. But I'd never do this:

This is a criminal act! 

I even considered just dropping my sewing projects from this blog and going to a straight repair and restoration format. But, there are already several really excellent YouTube channels, websites, and other blogs which cover those topics much better than I can. So, you'll have to settle for a mixture of coverage here. A little sewing project coverage and a healthy dose of machine fixing, salvaging, and restoration. Again, no expertise claimed or implied on either subject. Just a chronicle of misadventures as I muddle my way through a new area of interest for which I seem to have only moderate aptitude.

Could be worse. I could have started a swimming blog. . .

Wrestling with Words - Episode I: "Upcycling" Must Die!

This is a little off-topic for a blog about sewing, but it's not really. Learning to sew has involved learning a bunch of new terms. Like "right side" and "wrong side" for fabrics. I still find those terms a little more judgmental than strictly necessary. Especially since the "right side" of fabric is just the side I want showing. That doesn't make the other side "wrong" - unless I accidentally sew it in upside down (or is it backwards?) so that the part I want showing isn't showing. But, I've made my peace with "right side" and "wrong side" for now. It's a tenuous peace. I still think there's a better option out there. (I lean heavily toward "visible side" and "hidden side.")

Anyway, besides the fact that there are lots of terms unique to sewing, I write technical documents as a full-time job (think "How To" guides for repairing, say, helicopters). I also went to law school for a while. So I'm very much concerned about what words really mean, how they should be used, and how they shouldn't.

Before we start down this path, I do understand that English is an ever-changing language and none of us speaks English the way it was spoken even 100 years ago. I have no problem with creating new words to express new ideas. A hundred years ago, we didn't need a word for the Internet. Now we do. And, we have the word "Internet." But. . . when there's a perfectly good English word which already exists to describe something, I am adamantly opposed to concocting weird new words for the same purpose. There's no need to come up with a new word for "horse." We all know what a horse is and we have a word that clearly conveys the concept of "horse" to other English speakers. It's "horse." Sure, we have synonyms, and those are very valuable when you need to convey some subtle meaning or put a word in a specific context. "Pony," or "equine," for example. But, those have very specific meanings beyond the general idea of a horse. They're not just gratuitous, made-up words for the same thing.

One word which seems to have gotten legs in the craft world lately and which I consider wholly unnecessary is the word "upcycle." I despise that word. It has no specific meaning, and it's loaded with judgment. To "upcycle" something is simply to use it for a different purpose. We already have a word for "use." It's "use." But, besides being unnecessary, the word "upcycle" also suggests that whatever new purpose you've given that thing is somehow better ("up") than its original purpose. If you turn a pair of pants into a backpack, is the backpack "better" than the pants? Not if you need a pair of pants. It's just something different that you made using pants. Just like using cloth to make a pair of pants. You wouldn't say you "upcycled" the cloth into pants. So, you'll never hear me use the term "upcycle." If I make a backpack out of a pair of jeans, I'll just say that I *used* a pair of jeans to make a backpack. No weird, new jargon-y term needed.

Cleaning my Singer 20k13 and a Little Story about Bicycles

Didn't actually sew today, but I spent a few hours of quality time with one of my latest acquisitions - the Singer 20-33. It was really dirty. Lots of gunk inside, about a half pound of thread wrapped around the clutch pulley, and a note from "Jeanne" stuck in the belt guard. The note was on a notepad sheet from "The Torrington Company," which I had to look up. I have no idea when this note got jammed into the pulley guard on my machine. I don't even have a guess as to where this machine was most recently used. I bought it from a guy who said he didn't really intend to bid on a bunch of sewing machines at a nearby auction but he ended up bidding and winning. Supposedly, this machine and several others were part of the estate of a lady who lived somewhere nearby until recently. 

It turns out The Torrington Company has been around since about 1880 and was originally a major manufacturer of sewing machine needles, starting out as the Excelsior Needle Company. The Torrington Company grew out of Excelsior as a subsidiary making spokes for bicycle wheels back when Singer and other sewing machine companies were making bicycles as well as sewing machines. (Singer also made guns for a while! And bomb sights and other military equipment.) From the 1920s through the early 1980s, The Torrington Company was the largest manufacturer of bicycle pedals in the US and the exclusive supplier of pedals for Schwinn and Columbia bicycle companies.

The company expanded and acquired lots of other businesses and, by the time Jeanne's note ended up in my sewing machine, it's likely that The Torrington Company was making needle bearings as subsidiary of Ingersoll-Rand. They stopped making sewing machine needles altogether in 1980. It's an interesting story if you're into corporate history, which I guess I am. More here.

I don't know a whole lot about Singer 20-33s, but they all appear to have come in this blue color with a white stripe. It's the one thing about this machine that I just don't care for. If I ever have to take this machine completely apart for some reason, I'm pretty sure it'll get a new paint job before it gets put back together. Candy apple red, maybe. Or metal-flake orange. Other than the paint, though, it's a great little light-industrial machine that does zigzag stitches and has a reverse. After I got it cleaned up and oiled today I played around with the zigzag stitches and realized that I can do free-motion embroidery with this machine! So, I probably won't be selling this one any time soon. 

Got the table and machine all cleaned up. Just need to patch up a few holes in the table top

What I do want to get done soon is a cover for this machine. Since I'm done with my class and I only have a little bit of stitching to do on the scrub top, I need a project to keep me productive. You'd think this list of projects would be enough. . . Apparently not. To be fair, some of these aren't really "projects" yet. They're just ideas for potential projects.

That's right, folks -
I still have Thanksgiving napkins to finish.
Don't ask.

Matching Pockets

The scrub top I'm making was the third project in the four-week sewing class I recently took. (We also made a pillow and a bag which I'll show in another post.) A week after that class I am still working on the top. I blame this on the pockets. There are three of them. I have made at least four pockets so far. I have installed, uninstalled, and reinstalled one of those pockets at least three times.


I cut the the pieces for this project in a hurry at about 1:00 a.m. the night before class. I pattern-matched the top pocket, but for some reason I wasn't even thinking about trying to match the print on the bottom pocket with the print on the shirt front. I wasn't even thinking that I needed two bottom pockets so I showed up to class short one pocket piece. I cut the second bottom pocket in class, and since I was reasonably awake by then I cut it so the prints matched. I got the top pocket sewn on very nicely with the print matched almost perfectly to the shirt front. I even stitched in the optional pen holder and was quite pleased with myself. Then things went sideways for about two weeks.

The left-hand lower pocket was going to stick out like a sore thumb because the print on the pocket didn't line up with the print on the shirt front. I didn't want to waste that pocket piece, so I came up with a clever scheme to distract from the un-matched print: I got a piece of white muslin and made some un-piped piping to trim around the pocket. I don't think this is technically what you'd call binding, but it's sort of similar. I think they do the same thing on pillow cases sometimes. Basically, I cut a strip of fabric about an inch wide, folded it in half with the fold to the outside and sewed this folded strip, with no filler cord, between the pocket and the shirt front so the white bit stuck out a little. This formed a white frame around the pocket and kind of distracted from the unmatched pattern. That's as far as I got before class ended for the week. I'd have to do the remaining pocket at home.

Since I was on a roll with design changes, I got the bright idea to put a piece of piping cord inside the hem of the right-hand bottom pocket so that pens would have something to clip to. That took three tries to get right. The first time, I set the first stitchline too close to the end of the hem and didn't have enough fabric left to close up the piping. The second try I had too much room and got sloppy with my stitching. The third try was just right. I had both bottom pockets on, and the one on the right looked pretty darn good.

Of course, I couldn't just put self-piping on the right-hand pocket. . . And, frankly, I thought the white trim around the left-hand pocket was a bit wide. See where this is going? Off came the left-hand pocket. And, since I was taking it off anyway, I figured I might as well cut a whole new pocket so the pattern would match.

Remember, the whole reason I did the little pin striping trick in the first place was because the print on this pocket didn't line up with the print on the shirt front. Which it would now. Never mind. I was committed, and the little white pin stripe thing actually helped break up the monotony of the busy flamingo print, so it was all working out. I cut a new pocket so the print matched and I sewed the new left-hand pocket on, complete with self-piping in the hem and a nice, tastefully thin white trim piece.

That's when I realized that somehow, despite careful attention to getting the print lined up, one bottom pocket was higher than the other. That's also when I learned that the size of the repeating print on your fabric makes a big difference in how you line up pieces so the print matches. I'm not sure where I went wrong, but I had definitely messed this up. Again.

I was amazingly calm about all of this and simply decided that it was time to move on to something that was not a pocket. I un-threaded my machine, threaded up a fresh spool of white thread, wound a new bobbin, and got to work on the neckline. Since I already had the little white pieces of trim around the pockets, I tossed my original neckline piece and made a new one using the same bleached muslin as I used around the pockets. I had already figured out how to attach the piece a couple of nights ago but I had to remove some black basting and resew the piece with white thread before I could move on. So, I did that and got the neckline sewn on.

I admit, I did not "grade" the seam allowances as required by the instructions. In fact, one of the stitch lines missed about 2" of hem on the shirt front and I just said, "Screw it" and put a second line of stitches in. Nobody will ever notice and if they do they won't know there was only supposed to be one. Plus, now the neckline is stronger. I also added a little extra stitching where the "V" in the neckline piece folded over. That just seemed a little floppy to me. So, I stitched that sucker up. I was out of control - forging ahead with reckless disregard for the sewing instructions that came with this pattern. But, you know what? The neckline looked pretty good!

Getting away from the pockets for a while gave me a much-needed boost and I decided to go ahead and stitch the front half of the top to the back half - a huge step. Now it was starting to look something that could actually be worn and not just a shirt-shaped piece of cloth with a few pockets sewn to it.

I've put a lot of effort into making a scrub top that my wife can't even wear to work (because she has to wear solid blue scrubs). This is my own fault. If I had stuck with a plain fabric I would probably be done by now. But, it's OK - this is a learning experience, right? And, boy, have I learned a lot.

I've learned that I don't like headless flamingos on shirts. If I have to cut off a flamingo's head to make a pocket, I want to match his body up to another head. My class instructor calls this "fussy cutting." I just call it pattern-matching. I don't consider it being "fussy." I consider it good workmanship. And a fair excuse to keep a glass of bourbon close by when I sew.

I've learned that the bigger the repeat of a print pattern the more cloth it takes to match the print. When the "repeat" is four flamingos tall and seven flamingos wide, you can't just shift the pocket an inch or two to the left to line it up. Your pocket piece has to shift about 7" to line up with the next upside-down, one-legged, left-facing flamingo.

And, finally, I've learned to use plain fabrics whenever I take on a new type of project for the first time. I had played around with pattern matching on my second pillow project, so I should have known better than to pick a busy pattern for my first garment project. But, I was in the fabric store the night before class, fifteen minutes before closing time, and I wasn't thinking clearly. They said to make my final selections and get to the cash register to check out. So, I panicked and grabbed the first fabric I saw that I liked, which happened to be a fairly busy flamingo motif with a 7" x 10" repeat. I won't make that mistake again!

[If you'd like to follow this blog, they make it a little complicated. So far, this is the only way I know to do it:

I'll try to figure out a way to do it with one click from any post if possible.]

Welcome to Lumpy's House of Throw Pillows

A couple of people suggested that I should start a blog for my sewing stories. Here it is. This is not a "sewing blog." I have no particular expertise to share, so I would not presume to start "a sewing blog." I'm not here to show you how it's done because I don't have a clue. No, this is just a blog where I'll chronicle my attempt to learn how to sew, the projects I'm working on, the machines I use (and some that I just buy because I'm afraid they'll be turned into tractor decorations if I don't. .  .), and why I don't use the term "stitcher." I'll share what I learn along the way, but unless you're a total newbie to sewing, you probably already know a whole lot more about sewing than I do. In that case, hopefully you'll just enjoy reading about my misadventures. Anyway, welcome to Lumpy's House of Throw Pillows.

Lumpy

Who is Lumpy? Not me. Lumpy actually is a throw pillow. In fact, he was my very first ever sewing project. I made Lumpy in my very first ever sewing class at [a major sewing supply retailer near you] in the Fall of 2018. He was a simple throw pillow which didn't turn out exactly as one might have hoped. I figured I'd get "creative" right out of the chute and do a two-color pillow using two of my favorite colors: orange on one side and yellow on the other. Found myself a pack of fat squares that included those colors and, to cut to the chase, the fabric I chose was a little too thin to make a good throw pillow. When I stuffed the pillow, it was a tad. . . lumpy. Lesson 1: Pick fabric suitable for the item you're making. At least pick cloth that will disguise the fact that you have no idea what you're doing. I gave Lumpy to my daughter who loved it. Or said she did. I don't recall seeing it anywhere in her apartment the last time I was over there.

Anyway, when that first class was over and I had hand-sewn Lumpy closed, I joked that I was ready to go into business and I would open my own sewing shop called Lumpy's House of Throw Pillows. Since my sewing goals are more oriented toward making boat covers and doing upholstery, I probably wouldn't call my shop "Lumpy's House of Throw Pillows," but it seems like the perfect name for this blog.

Very quick background: I have been fascinated by the idea of sewing for as long as I can remember. My grandma was a wizard at it and could make just about anything you could imagine with some cloth and a needle and thread. I will always regret that I didn't spend more time hanging out with her learning the craft. But, I do remember going to town with her to buy patterns and notions and I still think those little envelopes of folded tissue paper are like books of magic potions.

I did mess around with a needle and thread a little bit as a kid. At the time, embroidered jean jackets and chambray shirts were "the thing," and I wanted to put some embroidery on my jean jacket. I suppose it wasn't too bad. Nothing compared to the Mickey Mouse shirt my grandma embroidered for me, though. I think I might have done a little hand-sewing to repair a shaving bag at some point, but I never really knew how to sew. I took all my uniforms in the military to sewing shops to get patches and name tapes put on. But, sewing just kept popping up on my radar over the years.

I had a very good friend overseas who sewed. I still remember watching her make a whole shirt one evening while we were hanging out talking. That blew my mind. Several years later, when I was working as a skydiving pilot, I met a parachute rigger who did some amazing repair work on my  favorite pair of jeans. One day sewing intersected with my love of shopping in thrift stores. I found a near-mint condition, 1970s vintage Sears Kenmore portable in its original cardboard box at a thrift store for $24.98. It spoke to me, so I bought it. I do not generally buy everything which speaks to me, but right around that same time I also found a 70s vintage Elna Carina SU which also spoke to me and I bought it, too. Might have been the Swiss accent that turned my head on that one. Both machines sat around in a closet for years. I had no idea how to thread them or how to wind a bobbin. I'm not sure I even knew what a bobbin was. But, in 2018 when I finally decided it was time to learn how to sew, I had a couple of very nice machines to learn on. Dumb luck or fate, I guess. Finally, in 2018, my wife and I decided that our outdoor furniture cushions were getting shabby and needed to be re-covered. I decided that making new covers myself was the only way that was going to happen. I signed up for a "learn to sew" class because I knew that was about the only way I was going to get anywhere, and here we are.

Pillow Project II - Side 1

Pillow II - Apparently I Really Like Two-Sided Pillows

After the original "Lumpy," I didn't do much sewing for about a year. Got busy lifeguarding and teaching swim lessons, something else I do. I took a refresher pillow class which worked out a bit better. Only nine more like that one to finish.

My First Zipper and First Pattern Project

Way Over My Head! 

Then I decided to just buy a pattern to make some random little bags and give that a shot. All things considered, that didn't go too badly but I found a few things that I felt like I could improve on with a little professional guidance. So, I signed up for "the sewing workshop" - a four-session class that met on Saturday mornings and included yet a third pillow project, a bag, and a "simple" top which I'm still working on, two weeks after the class ended.

That pretty much gets us up to date and gives you a pretty good idea of how this is going to go. I hope this lives up to what you were hoping for.