Sewing...what a relaxing hobby...(grrrr)!!!

Remember that old saying that went something like: "once you learn how to ride a bicycle you never forget..." ?

Well it's the same with threading a sewing machine. I remember my grade 8 home-ec teacher well and I can still see her holding up a bobbin and showing us how the thread should come out the little thingy on the side. It was simple and I never forgot it.

However, now that I decided to start a sewing project, it's not my memory that fails me. It's the hole in the needle. It doesn't seem to exist!! I try to stuff the thread through it but I can't see a hole. I'm wearing my reading glasses but I still can't see it. I found an old hand-held magnifying glass and still - no hole. I added a head-mounted flashlight and I still can't see one.

Finally, by some fluke, and just before I'm about to take the needle back to the store, the thread goes through the invisible hole.

Threading accomplished, I start to sew. I'm making a reversible apron. One side is a colourful animal print, the other side is denim. I start out fine...sewing pleasantly along humming to myself. Until....suddenly something goes terribly wrong. The motor keeps humming but the needle won't go through the fabric. I try - gently at first - to coax it through. It refuses. I grasp my face in my hands. "Come ON!!!!! PLEASE!!! Only a bit farther...you can do it!!!" I'm really trying to remain calm but it is NOT EASY!!!!!!!! "Aw come on......please!!!!!!!!! You stupid piece of......."

"Uh...perhaps it needs to be oiled...?" It's Rod, who is now standing in the doorway. "When did you last oil your machine?" he asks.

"Oil?" I frantically try to remember but the only thing that comes to mind is my grade 8 home-ec teacher again. Now I remember her saying, "the less you use your sewing machine, the more often it needs to be oiled."

"Hmm...let's see now...I got my machine for Christmas in 1976. I sewed a lot for quite awhile. Then the novelty wore off. I mended quite a few pairs of pants during 1979-1981. Then in 1984 I made 3 shirts (one for each of my son's and one for Rod). My sons wore their shirts proudly. Rod stuffed his into the thrift store bag after his first and last attempt at wearing it in public.

Then I started to sew some quilt squares together. I think that was in about 1992. Then in 2005 I made a flower girl dress for our son's wedding. It turned out very well and I'm pretty sure that was the last time I used my sewing machine until now...2010.

Oil....I know I saw some once when I was looking for twist ties but I can't remember what junk drawer it was....

"By your silence, I assume you have not oiled your machine for quite some time?" he asks, looking disgusted.

I lower my eyes in shame, patting my sewing machine gently.

After it has been thoroughly oiled and dusted by my patient husband, I notice it hums along like a well-oiled machine (so that's where that expression came from!!!)

September ...

I always think of September as a fresh beginning. I know that's pretty basic because the kids go back to school and it really is a new beginning. But even now that mine are grown, married and not a part of my daily life, I still feel this freshness about September.

It feels hopeful to me. To watch the gradual colouring and falling of leaves reminds me of my childhood and for some reason I suddenly get ideas and plans surging through my brain.

This morning I wake up thinking of a quilt that I started about 15 years ago that now sits in a box along with many forgotten unfinished projects. I start digging through my "craft closet" to find it but I'm taken off track by a box of painting supplies. I start to contemplate these when my hand opens the next box. This one contains scrapbooking supplies. Casting aside the painting box I'm caught in the spell of scrapbooking. Then I catch a whiff of lavender essential oil and spot my box of soap-making supplies. As I reach for this box my eye is drawn to the next box which contains a mountain of beads and beading accessories. My brain spins with excitement as I envision myself wearing my own beaded creations.

Then I have another vision: me, sitting at a table at the annual Christmas craft fair. I'm surrounded by quilts, paintings, scrap books, fragrant soaps and beautiful beaded jewellery. My eyes have dark circles under them and I can't speak. My creations are reflections of my personality: confused and overwhelmed. I realize that I must pick a craft - any craft...but I can't do it. Back to reality now, I return everything to their respective boxes and quietly close the closet door. Then I climb back into bed.

September - shorter days full of vivid colours, hopeful thoughts of new beginnings. Wake me when winter arrives.