I'm back! and feeling better. The fiery pit of hell that was my throat now just feels like a furball. I Zycammed and lozenged and Emergen-C'ed the bejeezus out of it to make it go away. Maybe I should give up sewing and become a doctor. Nahh. . . look at what I'd have to give up:
It's all relocated, folded, color coded, and grouped according to its texture and usage. You'd think I couldn't fit another piece of fabric in there but I can. Watch me! I found a rare Friday estate sale advertising "Sewing Items and Everything for the Quilter...ie: Fabric, Threads, Pin Cushions, tons of Notions" and after dropping Sage off at kindergarten, McKenna and I stopped by. Here's our haul:
Thread. I go through about 5 spools a week and I've been needing some new colors. Those were all the oldskool wooden spools, there were also some newer ones:
That there looks like a spool showdown! Pretty soon they'll start wielding needles. Watch out!
Uh oh - looks like someone forgot to return their "5-Day Loan Sample." Lucky me.
I love that one. You can click on it to see a larger view. In the windows are people talking, fighting?, drinking?, and there's one where a woman is giving a man a shirt and one with a man in a wheelchair. At least that's how I see it. They're all up for interpretation. I've been attracted to buildings and windows lately, but I'll save that for another post. Next!
Wheee! Sewing machines! It's from 1993, the year I graduated from high school. Does that make it vintage? Am I vintage? A few weeks ago a teenage girl in a thrift store asked me if the outfit she picked out was 80s enough (I guess I looked like I'd have knowledge of that era?) I told her yes, the pastel track suit was very Golden Girl-esque. She seemed happy with that answer and said she loved vintage clothing. Up until then I never considered pastel track suits as being vintage, just fugly. But I digress.
I bet some people would consider those prints to be pretty ugly. Not me! However, the gingham faux patchwork ones hurt your eyes if you stare at them long enough. Go on, do it. See? Next up, notions:
These are great big in real life. I love me some great big buttons.
The Sagittarian in me loves those centaurs.
When Sage saw the bag full of those little roses, he asked if he could eat them. Ha! He thought they were candy. Of course, I only let him have a few because I didn't want him to spoil his appetite.
Is it weird that I go to people's homes and buy their unwanted fabric, then take pictures of said fabric and gush over it like it's bars of gold? Eventually I'll cut into it all, turn it into something new and send it back out into the world. I can only hope that when we're all old and having estate sales that some kindred young spirit will be excited to find a vintage kokoleo hidden in the mix.