Quilt Saga

This quilt and sewing machine repair have become quite the epic tale.

Doug and I took my machine to the repair shop on the morning of his birthday.  We had originally made lunch plans with friends, but yet another snowstorm was on the way, so we canceled lunch, grabbed breakfast sandwiches at Dunkin Donuts, and headed to see "Steve," who sells and fixes vacuum cleaners and sewing machines.

Steve assured us that my 70s Kenmore was repairable, and we spent a pleasant half hour talking with him about how he got into the business and learning that his true passion is hot cars.

On our way out, a tiny vintage Singer caught our attention. It had its own little black suitcase, complete with attachments and the original manual with a 1952 copyright date. It was $399, but we were completely taken with the charm and beauty of this little machine.

We left but ended up turning around about a mile down the road. Doug had succeeded in convincing me that I needed it.

When we got it home, we learned that it was a Singer Featherweight, a brand that now has almost a cult following.

Here's a photo of just the machine:

And here's one with all the extras:

Weighing just 11 pounds, these petite workhorses were made from the 1930s to the 1960s and are prized by quilters because they can be easily transported for group sewing sessions.

I was pretty excited because having the additional machine meant that I could work on the quilt right away. And my friends were more than ready to help me:

I sewed along fine for awhile and then the needle met with some resistance. I wasn't going to push my luck with this one, so we took it back for a quick adjustment.

Back home, I continued sewing again, and then had a problem with the needle refusing to stay threaded.

At this point, I was ready to just return it and get my money back.  But so many websites and bloggers touted the virtues of the machine that I was torn.  And a call to Steve indicated that he was willing to play with it for awhile and make sure it was right. "You're going to love this machine once it's working right," he said. "Don't give up on it."

So yesterday, Doug visited Steve yet again and traded machines with him.

With my Kenmore all better, I finished the quilt last night and am waiting for my client to pick it up this weekend (hopefully before yet another snowstorm slams us on Sunday).

I ended up using a different sheet than planned for the border and back, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.  There are so many colors in the shirts that I decided this plaid complemented the shirts better than the blue checked one I ordered.  But I'm sure I'll find a use for that one in another project.

As for the little Featherweight, I think it's destiny that we met.  I checked the serial number and then went to the Singer website to date it.  It was originally delivered within a week of my birthdate.

Sew What

This winter, my life and my blog have kind of gone into hibernation.  What do you write about when all you do is sit by the fire every night trying to stay warm and watching the weather report to see when the next snow storm is coming?

But last week I was really excited because a project finally came my way--a job making a T-shirt quilt for a woman whose son is graduating from high school this year.

She came to our house on Monday loaded down with a huge bag of shirts from his activities over the past several years. We made our selections from the bag and laid the shirts out on my bed in a rough design:

I always take a picture of the arrangement to use as a guide once I'm actually sewing the blocks together.  

But first, I cut the shirts apart so that I just have the front (or the back if that's where the design is).  Then I used my rotary cutter, healing mat, and 14-inch square plexiglass template to cut the actual squares.  That was done by Tuesday night, and I ordered a sheet from L.L. Bean to use as the borders and backing:

With an unexpected snow day and no work yesterday, I thought for sure that I'd have a finished project ready to blog about by today.

Um no....

First, when I checked my supply of fusible webbing, I discovered I had two boxes.  That's enough to do a 12-shirt quilt but not a 20-shirt quilt, which is what this client wanted.  But I figured I could still get some sewing done if I used the webbing I had on 12 shirts in adjacent rows.  A search through the drawers of my sewing desk turned up another random piece of webbing, so I actually had enough for 4 of the 5 rows.

With all of the pieces ironed together and trimmed to size, I headed for the sewing room.

One row down.

Row 2, and I heard an awful crunch.  Not only was the needle on the machine broken, but the bobbin was bent and completely jammed into its casing.

So much for taking advantage of the snow day.

Today, we are taking my little machine to the repair shop and just hoping it can be fixed.  It's a 1970s Kenmore in its own avocado green case lunchbox-style case:

Doug found it for me at Goodwill several years ago for $8, and all it needed was a new belt.  It works so much better than the new plastic portables, which in my experience jump all over the table.  This girl is heavy.

I just hope they can fix her.

And I promise an "after" picture of the quilt.

Someday.

At least my client doesn't need it until June.

Beachfront Bargain Hunt

I've never been much a TV watcher, but when the temperatures are in the single digits, it's dark at 5:30 p.m., and the streets in our neighborhood are a sheet of ice, it's all too tempting to just spend the evening in front of the fireplace with a warm Labrador retriever in my lap watching mindless TV shows on HGTV and DIY:

Sometimes we do more napping than TV watching:

Although my all-time favorite show is Addicted to Rehab--I love Nicole Curtis and her determination to rescue old houses and use every last board, window, and cabinet she can find on the property--I have to admit that I have a new cold-weather addiction:  Beachfront Bargain Hunt.

Each half-hour episode takes me away from the ice- and snow-encrusted northeast to a sunny beach with beautiful water views and endless expanses of sand.

Bliss.  

My apologies to those of you who love snowboarding and skiing, snow-covered mountains and evergreens draped in white.  There is no beauty in any of that for me.

So until I can get back to this--my own "beachfront bargain"....

I'll keep watching other people get excited about finding their own little piece of paradise at the beach.

How many days until spring and my buddy and I can get back to our favorite place?

Industrial Kitchen Island

After renovating his grandparents' house last year, my son Alex decided he was ready to take on even bigger reno project of his own--a late-19th-century row house in Baltimore's Locust Point neighborhood that he bought in September with his fiancee Ashleigh:

The house was outfitted with disgusting carpet and tacky mirrors and featured a chopped-up floor plan. But Alex had a vision, and the gutting began.

Doug had a vision too, and when Alex and Ash broached the subject of an industrial style kitchen island, he got to work.   

We started out by visiting Brandywine View Antiques in Chadds Ford, Penn. Doug quickly spotted what he wanted, a factory skid, and shop owner Lisa just as quickly stepped in with all kinds of ideas for constructing the island. Lisa is awesome--she's a creative business woman who knows how to sell her stuff without being pushy. We left with the skid, two wooden crates from a Delaware-based dairy, and some vintage tin roof tiles.

A visit to a local salvage yard turned up some old beadboard planks and a true 2x4 (Doug has informed me that 2x4s are no longer actually 2 by 4, so why they're called that is a mystery to me).  An online source yielded some great vintage wheels:

The piece de resistance was a piece of rock maple that Doug salvaged when the lab tops were being modernized in the department where he worked as a machinist at UD.

After much sanding and sawing, gluing and screwing, with a little help from me and some paint, Doug had a finished product, which we delivered to Alex and Ashleigh's not-quite-finished-kitchen this weekend:

The soda crates house spice and sauce bottles, while pull-down doors reveal bins for trash and recycling:

At Lisa's suggestion, we included a panel for a chalkboard at one end:

And a niche using the space not needed for the trashcans features hooks for utensils and is accented with two of the old roof tiles painted black:

As always with a DIY project, we had lots of fights--not with each other but with the elements--snow, ice, temperatures too low to paint, delayed delivery because of the floor refinishing project at their house etc.

But yesterday, the island was safely installed in their kitchen, outfitted with some of the utensils, sauces, and spices we bought at Target during a fun little shopping spree.

It was all worth it when Alex said it would be the best piece of furniture in their house.

Now we're just waiting for our first invitation to dinner in the new-old kitchen.

Laundry Room Envy

For years, I've had laundry room envy.

I covet things like this system from Pottery Barn:

And I'm really envious of Ashley's laundry-room makeover at Domestic Imperfection:

These scenes make it look like doing the laundry could actually be fun!  (Well, let's not get carried away--Ashley has two toddlers, and at this stage of my life I might envy her laundry room but not her laundry).

But when you do your laundry in the basement (cellar would probably be a more accurate term) of a 1930s bungalow, it's tough to orchestrate an attractive setup.

The floor is concrete, artfully decorated with colors dripped from the many paint jobs I've done down there using, appropriately enough, an old plastic laundry basket as a "table" for whatever door or trim strips or piece of furniture I was working on at the time. The walls are damp cinder block, and Rubbermaid shelves store everything from light bulbs and Goof-Off to Doug's extensive collection of cheesecake pans (I think he has 35 or 40, counting everything from individual size to the standard 10-inch).

Since I hated the basement so much, I let it get cluttered and I had dirty clothes strewn about on the floor.

But last week I decided I had had enough.  I couldn't have a pretty laundry room, but I could at least have one that was cleaned up and somewhat organized.

So I bought this gem on Amazon for about $65:

I was so excited about my purchase that I ripped open the box as soon as it arrived, dumped all of the parts on the living room floor, and then looked pleadingly at Doug to help me sort it out.  He had it together in less than 10 minutes, and I was off to do battle with the basement.

It's still not pretty, but I do have nice modern machines:

And now my laundry is neatly sorted into Doug's, mine, and household:

I should have mentioned that this lovely basement is also my gym when the weather is too awful to walk or run outside or to drive to the UD gym.  So my motivation to make the area neat jumped a few notches during last week's snowstorm.  If I have to ride the damn exercise bike, I don't want to do it in the middle of a mess.  So as a side project, I organized a little wire shelf with painting clothes, old towels, and rolled-up sets of shorts, socks, and T-shirts for my riding pleasure:

With a John Grisham novel and my reading glasses, I'm off on a 10-mile ride to nowhere, and my laundry is organized.

But I'm still jealous of Ashley and anyone who has the luxury of ordering that laundry set from Pottery Barn.

Christmas Cues from Critters

We had a wonderful Christmas.

I could post dozens of pictures of the gifts we gave and received and the food we cooked and ate.

We are blessed with great kids, each other, and a cozy home:

But like a lot of people my age, I do find myself thinking about how over the top Christmas can be, with young kids on overload, tight schedules, recipes that fail and food that has to be remade at the last minute.

And it occurred to me that we should take some cues from our pets about what's important at Christmas time.

1.  Boxes are free and make great gifts:

2.  Time with your "cousin" is the best present ever:

She's so awesome, you don't mind sharing your bones with her:

3. A nap under a small Christmas tree in a finished attic can be just the thing to relieve holiday stress:

4. That relative you really thought was awful isn't so bad when you relax with him in front of a fire on a rainy day:

So thank you to Doug, Alex and Ashleigh, Christine and Brian, Corey and Kristin, Jesse, and Martin and Jenn for all the great gifts, including new Fiestaware and accessories, heated gloves, a warm wool throw, a bird house (to help me think about Spring), a beautiful sweater and scarf, and gift cards for dinner, movies, and new running tights.

But the best part of Christmas for me was time with all of you.

On Christmas Eve:

Christmas morning:

Christmas afternoon and evening:

And Boxing Day (courtesy of our British friends):

And although this isn't a lesson from a pet, I have to add that sometimes the best gifts are the ones someone makes for you:

Happy New Year!

Cookie Weekend

Doug and I have been baking Christmas cookies together for seven years now, although both of us had been doing it for many years on our own before we got married and began sharing a kitchen.

Over the years, we've added a few new recipes, dropped a couple that we didn't like so much, and changed up how we decorate and package everything.

But there are some cookies that have become treasured traditions, like these chocolate drops that Doug's mother used to make.  They're a favorite of our friend Mike, who always gets a few extras in his cookie box.  Doug's mom used to drop them from a spoon and ice them with a butter knife.  Doug pipes the dough with a pastry bag and uses pastry bags to ice them as well, so they've gotten fancier, but they're still a happy memory for him:

My sugar cookie cutouts are a favorite from the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, which I got as a wedding shower gift in the 1970s.  I have to say that they never looked quite this good when I made them by myself (see the blue and yellow stars--those are my handiwork; the rest are courtesy of Doug and the pastry bag):

Two of our favorite recipes came from Emeril, whose TV show was one of the first ones we watched together when we first started spending time together almost 10 years ago.  

The first one, the Guinness gingerbread, is amazing.  The recipe calls for 8 ounces of Guinness.  Hmm, that doesn't work so well, since it comes in 12-ounce bottles.  BUT, if you triple the recipe, you can use two whole bottles.  You also need nine eggs and two entire bottles of molasses. 

It makes a lot of gingerbread--two large pans, or 18 smaller loaves, which is what we did this year to make it easier for gifting. Our small pans are assorted sizes, hence the inconsistent look here:

We also got our almond roca cookie recipe from Emeril's show--it was the winner in a contest he held one year for holiday cookies.  These cookies are actually almost like candy, with all of the sugar and heath bits in them (we decided that there's just enough flour in the recipe to glue all the sugar together):

Peanut better cookies are always a hit, and the recipe we use comes from the same book as the sugar cookies.  I discovered several years ago that my vintage child's potato masher is the best tool ever for making the criss-cross pattern on top:

We had a great jam turnover recipe that we somehow lost, but in one of our junking trips, we stumbled on this cookbook, which is where the original came from:

We got a real bonus with this book--all kinds of free advice...with 1950s-style graphics.  All of the tips must be urgently important because they're punctuated with exclamation points.

One of the best tips is "Get Your Ingredients Together!" 

Well, we obviously didn't read this ahead of time, or Doug wouldn't have been running back to the store for butterscotch chips for the Special K bars, which his friend Jeb loves, and for the slivered almonds that the rocas get rolled in. Oh yeah, and how can you make Christmas cookies without red and green sanding sugar?  Another trip to the store....

But even with the extra shopping runs, we still forgot jam for the turnovers.  Not to worry--we found a jar of our friend Beth's homemade raspberry preserves on our kitchen shelf, and the jam turnovers were the best ever.

We have a lot of fancy but important cookie-making tools in our kitchen--a large Kitchen-Aid stand mixer, a Cuisinart food processor, assorted silicone spatulas, pastry tips, Sil-pat cookie sheet liners...

But sometimes the old-fashioned stuff is equally important--like this huge dough bowl that we use for the gingerbread.  A dear friend who is now gone gave it to me after she saw my yellow ware bowl collection, and I will always treasure it:

We also have a low-tech floor cleaner:

 My final task last night was to bag the toffee that Doug makes:

Over the weekend, we went through 8 pounds of butter, several dozen eggs, many pounds of sugar and flour, four batches of icing, and several bags of chips and nuts.  Not to mention the two bottles each of Guinness and molasses.

Everything was beautifully decorated, thanks to Doug.

And the kitchen was perfectly clean when we went to bed.  That's the part where my skills come into play.