My sewing machine is haunting me. It just sits on the shelf of the spare closet glaring down at me each time I open the door.
Actually, that might be the creepy little wind-up clown toy on the shelf next to it that is haunting me...
It's not that I don't like it. (My sewing machine, not the clown. I hate the clown.) In fact, I love it. I love my little Singer for all of the possibilities it represents: all of the curtains I could sew, the pillow shams I could create, the adorable clothes I could design for Grace.
But for some reason, I continue to ignore its longing gaze. I mean, there's really no excuse. I took the introduction to sewing class at Ft. Huachuca. The sewing machine comes with a step-by-step DVD. For god sake, it even has a self-threading needle. What is my problem? I started this hobby with such lofty intentions. How hard can threading the needle and winding the bobbin be?
This is what happened the last time I attempted to give the machine a little love: I cleared off the kitchen table, got everything out, and set up the machine. Then I got distracted (blame Grace or Griffin), and the machine sat there for 3 days.
This has to end. I think it's too soon to give up on my dreams of do-it-yourself drapes and homemade jumpers. My new goal for the month of March is to fire up my mini sew shop (and buy some no sew hem tape- just in case).
Tell the story of trying to learn a new talent or hobby that you only pursued briefly.