Sewing Machine Fun Facts

I happened across this YouTube video on the history of the sewing machine that I thought was pretty funny.  Also informative, as in I had no idea!  

You'd think it would have been pretty straightforward:  Some bright star invents the beloved machine, which is met all around with, "Hey, what a great idea!"; the gizmos sell like hotcakes and the rest is, well, history.  Right?  

Not exactly!

The real story is full of twists and turns, litigants and lawyers, murky maneuvers and mass marketing. 

Abby Cox does a brilliant job in the video.  It's always a plus when you can laugh while you learn!

* * * * *

Several months ago, I was sorting through and organizing some papers for genealogical purposes when I came across this insurance policy from 1892.

Do I really need to keep this? I wondered, as my eye scanned down the page.  My great-great-grandfather had insured his farmstead, itemizing its contents on the front page.

Do you see what I see?  Listed among the buildings and livestock was another valuable piece of equipment:  A sewing machine valued at $25.00 (about $800.00 in today's dollars).

Worth half as much as the barn and less than the onions*, but still an important item to enumerate and insure.  I thought that was pretty cool!  And yes, I do need to keep this!

*He was a fruit and vegetable farmer who marketed his produce, so I assume the onions on hand in January were his stock to be planted for the upcoming season.

~Paulette

Hunting for Arrowheads...in the Trash

 Alternative title, "How Blogging Saved the Arrowhead Collection."  

Whew, I am sighing with relief!  Earlier today, I was all set to write a post about how I finally framed the arrowheads my dad had collected through the years and got them out of the metal recipe box I'd stashed them in and into a decent shadowbox I could hang on the wall.  An interesting enough story.  

But when I got to editing pictures for the post, something was not right.  

I'd taken a photo of the grouping laid out on my cutting table a couple weeks ago, back when I was puttering in the sewing room and tidying things up.  I'd begun with the intention of putting them in a wheel-like configuration.  

Later that morphed into something more free-form and asymmetrical.  Along the way, I took several photos to share with my daughter Michelle for her input as to various ideas and iterations.

In looking back through the pictures today, though, I noticed my "final" shadowbox (directly below) was two points short!  

I went back and forth between photos and counted and recounted.  Sure enough, I was missing three arrowheads!  Two nice ones and another I'd decided not to include because it looked a little too perfect, like a souvenir arrowhead.

Where could they be?!  I quickly searched my sewing room, but I already had a sinking feeling: I'd thrown them away!

Then:  What day was it?  When was garbage pickup day?  Were they still in the dumpster?

With rubber gloves and mask, I went out to the dumpster with my husband to fish out the bag.  Through the clear plastic, I could see the narrow strip of batting I'd wrapped them in when I'd stored them in the recipe box.  Right near the top of the bag, fortunately.  Please-please-please let them be in there!

I opened the bag and pulled out the wad of batting.  I could feel a couple faint lumps.  I opened it carefully and there they were!  Woo-hoo—and whew, too!

After washing and drying them, I went straight to work, reopening the shadowbox and mounting the almost-lost arrowheads.  Luckily there was a little space on the upper right and left sides where I could squeeze them in and not throw things off noticeably.

Dad found arrowheads as a boy in the 1930s and '40s, usually while walking with his brothers and friends through farm fields in the spring.  The family truck farm was on the edge of a great marsh fed by the Rock River, which had been home to native people for thousands of years.  

I myself never went arrowhead hunting...until today.

When dad passed away a few years ago, my siblings and I divided up his small collection.  I stored my share in an old recipe box on a sewing room shelf.  When I came across them again recently, I decided it was time to bring them into the light of day and display them somehow.  So I bought a 10x10-inch shadowbox on Amazon.  

I had a couple old deerskins from my father-in-law from his hunting days.  He'd had them tanned by a local company in 1992, according to the receipt that was still in the box.  Many hunters in this area used to tan their deer hides and have them made into gloves, slippers/moccasins, coats, etc.  My thinking was to use the deerskin as a background for the arrowheads.  I cut off a small piece to use as a color sample to see how it might look in the frame with the arrowheads on top.

Long story short, after a couple layout attempts and with Michelle's helpful input, I ended up using a piece of black leather as the background and layered the deerskin on top.  Even though I'd just haphazardly cut a bit of deerskin off the big piece for a color swatch, I was starting to like the raggedy edges and asymmetrical shape of the piece.  It had movement and interest to it, and I liked that.

The black leather was from a coat my husband bought at Goodwill several years ago.  He stopped wearing it when it went too far out of style, but instead of sending it back to the thrift store, I cut the supple black cowhide apart and saved it for...whatever.  I flipped it to the reverse (suede) side as the background for a bit of textural contrast.

I used a super-strength fabric glue to glue the black leather to a foam board backing, and then the deerskin to the leather.  Then I used a hot glue gun to adhere the arrowheads.  I know that last sentence may send true arrowhead collectors into apoplexy, but it was the most workable solution for me.  I don't intend to take them out to trade with other collectors or sell or show; the shadowbox is for purely sentimental value.

So here (directly above) is the final-final result.  All arrowheads present and accounted for, on the wall next to the door of the sewing room.  What a story they tell—the original peoples', immigrant ancestors', Dad's, and my own.

More String Baskets

I've been plugging along on the string basket blocks.  As of this past weekend, I had eight finished.  Here they are on the design wall (which is reverse flannel side of a vinyl gingham print tablecloth; if you notice the hint of a checked pattern behind the blocks, that's why).

I've got another four in the works right now, in various stages of being put together.  I'm running low on some of the solid colors.  I thought about maybe introducing purple and/or a different blue or green, but since I don't have enough (or any) of those in the solid scraps box, it's not really an option.  While I could make a trip to the fabric store, the whole idea was to utilize my scraps, so that's that.  When what I have is gone, I'm done with the blocks. 

They are quite large, about 13 inches square, unfinished.  So I'm sure, depending on how I decide to set them, there will be enough for a decent sized quilt.

While I was in the sewing room this week—which also happens to be a storage area for a lot of other stuff, including papers and keepsakes from my late mom and dad—I happened upon an old cassette tape.  I popped it in an old boombox and heard my grandmother's voice.  On the other side of the tape was my aunt's voice.  Both were recorded in March 1982.

My grandmother was losing her eyesight due to macular degeneration, and reading and writing letters had become difficult for her.  Instead, she exchanged cassette tapes with her daughters who lived out of state (we lived in Wisconsin), wherein they shared family news and other happenings.  These were the days before email and cell phones, of course.  When long distance telephone rates were high (a one-hour phone call could cost as much as a tank of gas), but postage to mail a cassette tape was cheap.

So there was Grandma, maybe sitting out on her porch (from the sound of traffic passing) on a spring day in the deep south, talking about a cousin's wedding she'd recently attended, her azaleas in bloom, and other things.  On Side B was my aunt in Texas, talking about similar things in her "letter" to Grandma, about her roses and what else she was planning to do in her flower beds, etc.

I wanted to transfer this tape digitally, both to preserve it before the tape broke or degraded further, as well as share it with my siblings and cousins.  So that was my other project this past week.

Thankfully, I'd pinned a tutorial on this subject that I'd run across a few months ago.  I followed the instructions, bought a patch cord for $7.99, and using free Audacity software, was able to transfer the tape to my computer and save it digitally.  

Source:  Bespoke Genealogy

Instead of burn the new audio file to a CD, I uploaded the MP3 file to my (free) account on SoundCloud and shared the link with my cousins, etc.  Got some nice feedback.  One cousin said it brought tears to her eyes to hear Grandma's voice again.  Both Grandma and my aunt passed away in the 1990s. 

As much as they communicated this way over several years, I don't think many of these tapes survived.  Wouldn't it be neat, though, if some day, someone finds one of my mother talking to Grandma with our family news at the time?

Sunday Sundry 10-29-17

We didn't have many trick-or-treaters this evening, maybe only a couple dozen in total.  It was pretty cold, in the mid-40s, so that may have been a factor.

When I was a kid, I remember trick-or-treating in all sorts of weather.  The most extreme was during a sleet storm.  But no amount of stinging ice pellets was going to prevent me from crunching across the frozen lawns, half-suffocating behind a plastic princess mask, and opening the soggy maw of my pillowcase on the neighbors' porches.

Did you come home and sort your candy stash like we did?  Sweet-Tarts, Smarties and Pixie Stix in one pile, fake banana flavored chewies, Bit-O-Honey, Tootsie Rolls and Milk Duds in another.  Suckers, Tootsie Pops and Slo Pokes over here, gumballs and bubblegum cigars there.  Finally, closest to me—my precious—went the candy bars and M&Ms, to be hoarded and protected from my siblings at all costs.  Once in a while, a random apple made it home in the bag.  More often than not, though, they were employed as organic missiles along the route from house to house.

One year my mom had the idea of making popcorn balls for Halloween.  This sounded good, in theory, but you'd have to know my mom to appreciate the anxiety this triggered.  She was an inspired cook, yes, but also a master procrastinator with an internal clock seemingly set a couple time zones behind.  What could go wrong?

I remember the doorbell ringing with the first trick-or-treaters before her sugar syrup had even reached the soft-ball phase.  Then pandemonium ensued, and my dad was sharply commanded to assist as emergency sous-chef, all voices escalating to near-panic levels.

Meanwhile, knowing some of the kids on the porch were likely friends, I wanted nothing more than to melt straight into the floor.  Since that wasn't a viable option, the second best thing to do was don my mask and loot bag and skedaddle out the back door on my own personal candy quest.

Well after trick-or-treat hours, I returned home to a kitchen full of popcorn balls.  And I'm pretty sure that what I sensed in the air, aside from the lingering aroma of popped corn and sticky sugar, was the forswearing of any such artisanal creations ever again!

Rays of Light

I tell you what, these first six weeks of my husband's retirement have been an adjustment period.  I am not retired myself yet; that's not on the horizon for at least a half dozen or more years.  

One of my jobs is done from home, and both jobs are somewhat flexible.  Nevertheless, I used to have my own weekday routine, of a sort.

Now?  Not so much.  It feels pretty boggy and nebulous to me.

These days I wake up and smell the coffee, literally, and wonder what day it is (used to be I only woke to the smell of coffee on the weekend, when Norm made it).  There is a sameness to each day, and although I've tried to maintain some of the former touchstones, the days seem to blur together and slip by, one into the next.  Also, it's midwinter, and I'm sure there's some cabin fever that factors into that equation.

One thing I continue to do is throw open my bedroom window first thing in the morning and let all the heat out of the room the direct sunshine warm my face for 15 minutes or so.  There's science behind that strategy, with sunlight and seratonin and Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD.  When the sun's not shining, I park myself in front of a light box at breakfast during the winter months.  Have for years.  It definitely helps keep the winter blues at bay.

[Icicles on the river birch outside my window]

One of the upshots of Norm being retired is that he's been going for walks with me on milder days, i.e., above 30 degrees.  I'm not a particularly cold-loving gal.  Mostly, I don't want to wipe out on an icy sidewalk.  It's good to be able to grab a supportive arm as I totter over the slippery bits.

And so we're finding our new groove, little by little.

Speaking of sunshine, this lovely little runner brightened my day when it arrived in my mailbox recently, a gift from fellow quilter Marei.

What a lovely surprise!  Wonderful piecing and quilting, isn't it?  I love it!

The news from my sewing room is that I finished the Joy in the Evening quilt this past weekend.  

The multicolored thread I ordered came in, looking somewhat different than the first spool, but close enough that I don't think anyone will notice.

I really like how it turned out.  It makes a cute kid's quilt or lap quilt.  I will probably be donating it, unless someone in the family makes a claim.  (Edited:  Donated to Badger Honor Flight fundraiser.)

Also worked on the Quilty 365 circles for February.  I'm enjoying using various reds and pinks from the stash and scrap bins.

I've also managed to temporarily sidetrack myself with another task, sorting through several decades' worth of old photos which belonged to my in-laws.  They've sat in a big storage box since 1999, when my father-in-law passed away and the house was sold.

[Father-in-law Ed on the far right]

I was looking for an old photo of my sister-in-law the other day, to surprise her with on her birthday.  Didn't find the photo I went searching for, found another instead, and one thing led to another.  

[Ed in the Civil Conservation Corps, late 1930s; mother-in-law Marion, 1940s, lower right]

Pretty soon I had my whole cutting table covered in piles of old photos.  Why this job has fallen to me is another story, albeit somewhat of a mystery.  I think every family has its "keeper of things," and/or its family historian.  Perhaps it defaults to the person who shows anything resembling an interest.  I bet you could name the person who holds that honor in your family.  Is it you?

[Ed was a tank driver in the 7th Armored Division at the Battle of the Bulge in WWII]

Anyway, it may take a while to dig out.  

If you don't hear from me in a couple weeks, send reinforcements.  Or cookies.  That works too.

Odds and Ends

When my daughter was visiting last weekend, helping me with the improv piecing, she also arranged a block of her own off to the side using some of the scraps.  I sewed that together this past week and quilted it into a place mat sized mini.

I have never free-motion quilted over corduroy and wondered how it would act.  I'm happy to report that it went well and actually seemed very normal to quilt.  I experimented with some very "organic" clam shells.  Norm called the whole look primitive, and I guess that's about as good a description as any!

I really like the texture of the quilted corduroy.  For the back, I used a soft wool flannel in a subtle herringbone pattern.  

So that's my experiment of the week and pretty much the sum total of what happened in the sewing room the past few days.

* * * * * *

Back in October, I visited my aunt, who showed me two quilts pieced by my great-grandmother on my dad's side.  

My paternal great-grandparents, Max and Esther (50th anniversary, July 1944)

The story was that Great-Grandma Esther had told my aunt and her sister that she would make each of them a quilt, to be given to them when they got a little older (and married, probably).  My aunts regularly helped Great-Grandma in her later years; they lived just across the street.

Unfortunately, however, Great-Grandma passed away in 1952, when the aunts were 16 and 17, and the quilts all but disappeared in the goings-on after her death.  My aunt was fairly certain that my great-aunt had taken them home, ostensibly for safekeeping.  

Over the next many years, as the aunts got married and had children, my aunt asked about the quilts, but for whatever reason, they were never turned over to her and her sister.  

Indeed, forty years passed before the aunts received their quilts.  After my great-aunt passed away in 1994, the quilt tops were found among her things.

They were finished simply for each of the aunts at that time by one of their sisters-in-law, with what feels like a poly batting and tied with yarn.  

Aunt Celia and her double wedding ring quilt

The double wedding ring quilt went to Aunt Celia and the lavender basket quilt to Aunt Mona.  

Celia remembered quite a few dresses in the scraps of her quilt.

My aunt told me that Great-Grandma sewed may things, including the Christmas and Easter dresses made for each of her granddaughters every year.  She also made baby clothes, and the baptismal gown worn by a good number of babies born into the extended family in the last century, myself and my daughter included. (The baptismal gown is a story in itself.  If I can find photos of it around here, I'll post those another time).

This is one of the baby items Great-Grandma made in the 1920s.  My aunt has a Victorian style decor and displays this year-round.

The confirmation dresses worn by two relatives in this photo were made by my Great-Grandma in the 1930s.

It was fun to visit with my aunt about these things.  I plan to go back there again and look through some family photos with her, which I'm sure will prompt a story or two.

I can't recall how I had heard about these quilts made by my great-grandmother; it was something mentioned in passing in the past year or so, but I'm glad I followed up and asked further about them.  It was a treat to learn more about an ancestor I'd never met whose legacy lives on in her handiwork and the memories of those who knew her.

Random Thursday 6-5-14

June is one of my favorite months of the year.  We had such a long, drawn out winter here in the Upper Midwest and a fairly cool spring, but now that June has arrived, it feels like a different world. Like when the Wizard of Oz movie changes from black and white to color.  Everything is so lush and verdant green!

My yellow irises opened this week!

Remember getting out of school the first part of June, when it seemed like the summer stretched out before you with so much fresh potential?  If you were like me, you followed your whims for a time.  Sure, there may have been swimming lessons and babysitting jobs, but whenever possible, you slept in 'til late morning, went for walks or bike rides when the spirit moved you, hung out with friends and talked about everything and nothing, hit the tennis ball against the house (and tried not to break the windows), played "horse" basketball (and tried not to break the yard light on the garage), watched Match Game and The Gong Show, walked the dog, painted your nails, pored over Teen Magazine, Glamour, and Cosmo (shhh...), and wrote in your diary in a rainbow of Flair pen colors.  Maybe next month you'd start sewing your back-to-school wardrobe, but not now.  Now there was dreaming to do.

Well, I still sort of feel that way come early June.  Sure, there are things to be done, but they can wait a bit.  This is the time we longed for back in January, February, and March.  No more heavy coats, no navigating snowstorms.  We move about the world more freely and less encumbered.  And now it's here!

Not much sewing has been happening this week, except for piecing together a quilt backing.  But when I'm not working part-time Job #1...

(Working from home, pants are optional.)

or part-time Job #2...

I've been making my way through the third book in the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon.  

I haven't been able to get the audio version for this book from the library, so I am just reading, reading, reading.  It's is a thick novel, and I am not a speed reader, just enjoying the journey page by page.  After that, only five more books to go!  :P

In a way, I miss being able to multitask, i.e., sewing while listening to the audiobook, but then again not.  There is surely nothing wrong with sitting on the deck with a really good book in the glorious month of June.

Of course, it's not all sitting on my duff.  I walk a few miles every day around the neighborhood.  It seems the least I can do for exercise, but I enjoy it especially this time of year, with the birds and blooms, fresh smells on the breeze, the ever changing sky. 

Truth be told, though, I have been lollygagging around on Candy Crush.  It took me a couple weeks, but yesterday I finally beat level 29.  Sure, go ahead and laugh.  

I've never been much of a gamer.  I've never won a game of Scramble with Friends with my daughter yet, either.  (That's the sum total of all the games I play: Two.) I'm getting better, though, and I believe that day will come.

We had a family get together on Memorial Day, also to celebrate my dad's 82nd birthday.  Here are the siblings and I and Dad.

L-R: Darrell, Me, Dad, Nita, Russ

On Monday, Dad lost five trees in a storm, one of which came down right where we were standing for that photo.  Thankfully, the downed trees missed the garage and other outbuildings, but took out his peonies, garden bench, compost barrel, and wheelbarrow.  The garden will need replanting too, as it got washed out in the deluge.  Today the tree guy is coming to cut up the wood.  Sometime later, it'll get chipped into mulch for the path down to the pond.

Darrell and Russ entertained a request by Dad to play Galveston by Glen Campbell. They did mighty fine.

What about you?  How are you enjoying the first bit of summer when you're not sewing?

Linking to Really Random Thursday at Live a Colorful Life.