One of a kind

As you are all probably aware - if you've read my other posts - I'm very much into my craft and out of the baking. As such I pride myself on my crafting skills and ignore my inability to bake. It's worked thus far and I'm happy to keep it going. So you can imagine my frustration when sewing, something I'm usually good at, just won't work.

I had seen free embroidery stitch done on a machine and worked out that if I removed the base plate from my machine I would be able to achieve the same result. It took some tweaking of the tension and adjusting of the fabric but in the end I cracked it. The result is rather cute...

It says 'smile' for those of you that can't read it. I was quite happy with the outcome. I knew that on my next piece I would have to be careful which fabric I used as clearly the heavy pattern is battling with the sewing and I also learned that thicker lettering definitely looks better. 

The frustrating part is that I fear there will be no next one. A mere day after I finished this sampler I set up to do the next one. Nothing but the thread and fabric had changed but would the damn thing work?

In case you can't pick up on my tone, no it wouldn't work. The thread just continuously chavelled (made up word for clumping of thread uglily) underneath my fabric and thus pulled holes in the work. It looked like a thousand tiny ants had crept inside my machine and taken bites to appease their appetite until super. No matter how much tweaking or adjusting I did it just would not work!

As I've probably mentioned I'm not the most patient of people so the fact that I gave up is actually a good thing compared with what I wanted to do with my machine and although I'm not a violent person it would not have ended prettily.

So alas it would seem that 'Smile' is going to be a one off, a unique piece that won't ever be perfected upon. Part of me finds that really sad, part really frustrating but then part of me likes it all the more for not being perfect. After all how many of us are just one of a kind? The world is probably a better place for it too.

Iceberg ahead!

I've been incredibly busy this weekend celebrating my dad's 60th birthday. My dad is not your typical dad. Don't get me wrong he is a caring bloke- not that he would ever say anything but his actions speak for themselves. At a moments notice he has come to help as we had problems with our home and taken us in when things got really bad. But my pops is as eccentric as they get. He doesn't have a living room, he has a library and I'm talking floor to ceiling solid with books. His freezer is in his bedroom which is full of microwaveable food. He sleeps in the top bunk of bunk beds and his bathroom has over 35 teddies in it for when my niece comes to stay. Not that they are stored there, no they live on the shelves. I have many stories about my pops all which will leave you with face ache from laughing so hard, but this one is about the weekend's antics.

Now you have this information you might be less shocked to discover that to celebrate his 60th my dad wanted to go clubbing. Not just a drink until the bar closes but actual dark room, flashing lights, loud music clubbing. Fine so far. All of dad's workmates were also going clubbing. Still fine. We were to meet them in a pub then go on from there. Fine... Then we saw this chap.

For the record- not my dad- but one of his work colleagues. His nickname is Iceberg. Which we discovered when a short tongued other member of the group couldn't seem to help himself but shout it periodically through the evening. This only stopped when the same short tongued gent felt the need to either hydrate himself or shout 'Ian' at the top of his voice. This might be one of the situations where you had to be there but my goodness! It was hilarious. It was at this point I developed a new found respect for my dad. His job is to manage the mischievous lot that wandered from pub to pub last Friday night. One got half naked. Another jumped from a podium and did a belly flop onto the floor. Then you have iceberg in dress shoes and camouflaged gear and the short tongued gent with terrets. 

I followed my pops for as long as I could but there is a limit as to how long I could put up with 7 drunken men struggling to maintain eye contact so I left pops with my husband and waited for them to tell me they wanted to come home. At 3am (!) I got the call.

I guess I had no idea what my dad really put up with at work or what to expect on a night out with him. I suppose when you get introduced to an iceberg you should expect that 70% won't be revealed until the last minute.

It's all in a name

My husband has an unusual name, it's not Bert or Cecil before you start, but it's unusual enough that you can't buy things with his name on. Mine, however, is incredibly traditional and therefore popular. My husband's parents clearly chose his name but it would seem did not realise they would miss out on buying him pens, coasters, pencils, with his name on. After three years of receiving gifts with my name on from them I figured they were getting it out their system and soon would stop. I thought, 'how cute, his mum bought me a third coaster with my name on'. It didn't stop, I now have rulers, chocolate and key rings with my name on along with the pens, pencils and coasters.

I would like to mention I have had my name for 26 years, I know what it is. I do not need reminders. 

Recently in a random conversation it became clear that it was in fact my father in law that suffered with the compulsion to buy random things with my name on not my mother in law that I had once suspected. I quickly apologised to the mother in law and declared war with my father in law. 

Smugly he told me that nothing existed with his name on and therefore his drawers would not be full of 'tat' and reminded me that my name was everywhere. Well, I thought we will see about that!

I've managed to get him a torch, coaster, tax disc holder all adorning 'Ian' somewhere with a small explanation saying this is an easy going chap. It is true though, 'Ian' is in short supply. But I'm not letting that stop me. When all else fails... Craft!

I started with the pink idea, then it would seem I threw up girly all over it. I can't wait to see him wearing it. No sane man would be seen dead in this, of that I am sure, not just because of the pink or frills but the hearts and pin wheels take it to a new level, but this man, this man is not sane. I mean, how many people can't stop themselves from buying rulers, rulers people, how many can you use at any one time? That's right just the one! 

I may have opened a can of worms, and I'm hoping this will be the end to the war but even if not I've certainly got this battle pinned. Pin wheeled in fact!

Me, me, me

Tonight I went in search of some bright pink fabric for a craft prank present. In order to get this fabric I drove to a local store. Simple enough so far... On the journey I got to thinking, as one sometimes does, and it occurred to me that a have a number of, let's call them 'things' that I like in a certain way and a few of them occur whilst I'm driving. I'm not saying these are obsessive or compulsive but there is a definite tendency to have things done in a certain way.

1. My stereo can only be at a volume ending in 0 or 5, 7 is ok but not as a second number ie 17 is bad. 

2. I have to turn off my car in a certain order, put into gear, engage handbrake, turn off ignition, release seat belt and open door. These have to be done in quick succession and in that order because of the musical noise it creates. If done in a different order it doesn't sound right.

3. I can't be the filling of a lorry sandwich. Lorry, me, lorry - I don't think so!

4. I don't like going back on myself. If I know of an alternative route to get back to the place I came from and it makes a circular journey I'm going to take it. This also applies to walking and to others driving (I let it slip to my husband on Sunday when he did a u-turn in a side road. By let it slip I mean strongly suggest we go home another way. By strongly suggest I mean squeal a little bit.) don't worry he just told me he likes the tea I made him- we are safe for a while yet.

5. Don't touch my car when I'm driving. I love my friends but one of them is lucky to still be my friend when she took my car out of gear at traffic lights. She has been banished to the back seat and won't be returning to the front seat for a while. I may mention that was two cars and five years ago - I may be accused of holding a grudge.

There are other things that make me happier than others - number plates that have funny name associations, seeing my name on a certain branded lorry, other people weaving on the motorway (always makes me picture synchronised swimmers) but the above five are more than happiness, obviously if I don't do them I won't internally combust. I may need to repeat things so they are done properly or cover my face to retreat to my safe place, which in a car is less than ideal!

I've probably made you laugh as you associate with similar things that you do or panicked you into never driving again. Either way, that's just a little bit more about me.

Simple things please simple minds

I'm a horder, there I've said it. You can judge at will. I keep all kinds of random bits and pieces because one day they may come in handy. Why throw away less than a square inch of lace, that could adorn a hand made card one day! Or tip buttons into the bin- that crime should be punishable by eating lard. Each scrap of pretty paper, floral fabric or cute card is saved in this house: just in case.

My husband would argue until the death about this - he likes everything tidy (what a freak) and feels that there has to be a limit of what I save or collect from others too for that matter. But it's on days like today when I revert to being a three year old, I blob my tongue out with pride and say ner ner na ner ner to my other half.

This...

Was a skirt that I bought for £3 because it was £3 and I thought I could wear a belt with it. It was the wrong length and I didn't love it enough so to the bottom of my drawer it went. However when having a clear out (shudder) it was moved from the bottom drawer to my 'fabric for craft' bag and waited there to be converted into a rather lovely vintage apron for my friend. Yes, another PIF gift.

And this...

Was a bathroom curtain from my mamma's house.

Among my favourite words, as long as they are said by someone else, are 'we are having a clear out' my heart skips a beat, my palms get sweaty and my pupils dilate. As soon as I can get in up to my elbows in someone else's stuff I forget all social decorum. 

So until my husband actually threatens me with divorce and even then it would be a tough choice, or the house falls down from the weight of fabric I will collect and store and play with my scraps until the cows come home. I'm ok with being made happy by simple things, and even if it means I have a simple mind... Who actually wants complex?

Elizabeth Bennett bites back

So I was stuck with one of life's eternal problems tonight- I can't sleep, my husband can and wants to do so for the duration of the night (selfish I know) which means that although I'm allowed to craft it has to be silently. I'm a big fan of noise. I like to have music playing, hit things with hammers to shape them in the way I want, and I have to admit the novelty has not worn off my industrial staple gun. I told you my mum gets me the best presents. 

So... What to do!

I started by glueing some fabric that I've been meaning to do for a while, but that took 30 seconds. I then sat in my craft room with hundreds of ideas but they all made noise. 

Then it came to me, the pinwheel magnet. This is also something I've been meaning to do for a while, in case you haven't noticed I'm a class A procrastinator. So I undid my fabric jars picked out relevantly sized pieces and set to work. For those who don't have time to read my drivel, this is the outcome:

As the novelty hasn't worn off my glue gun either and the tutorial said that I could use one, I plugged it in and waited.

I'm not a good waiter.

Usually if I have to wait I get distracted and start something else. But for the glue gun to be most effective you have to wait. So I did. For not very long. Because the tutorial also said that you could sew the centre pieces. 

Now I am a modern girl, I like my stapler and my glue gun but I also think I could give Elizabeth Bennett a run for her moor walking peticoat (if you don't know who Elizabeth Bennett is, shame on you(!), and please read Pride and Prejudice immediately if not sooner.) This led me to wonder if modern tools are really what they are cracked up to be and if sewing by candlelight is still just as good. For all the optomologists in the room - don't fear I did use electrical lighting.

I threaded my needle in seconds- take that EB! And methodically worked the corners of the pin wheel into the centre before adding a button. The magnets I used already had sticky backs so I was done in 4 minutes flat. By this point the glue gun had reached the appropriate temperature, so taking the next fabric piece I followed the same process using glue instead. Oh my word! First there was no glue, then too much glue, then more glue on me than the fabric, then I was stuck to the fabric! I'm not a thimble wearer so I pricked my finger a couple of times with the needle but nothing had me singing the 'no' song like the hot glue did. 

Don't pretend you don't know the song, it's the one where you repeat 'no' getting progressively quicker that culminates in one long 'nooooooo' when things have gotten really bad. Or a joyous air punch if you've overcome the adversity that started the song.

Both the pin wheels look really good, and although I thought the glue would be quicker, when you consider how long it takes for it to warm up and how long it takes to pull the dry glue from your fingers - although I quite like that- sewing is definitely quicker. I also liked that you can see the thread on the button. It gives it a more authentic feel I think, less that there has been a conveyor belt of asbestos'd hands adding embellishments to my new favourite type of magnet. So although my glue gun will not be taking early retirement, I think the classics still have a role to play.

A maker not a baker!

I love cake, it's my go to safety net when the world wants to make me cry and will be sure to provide the inside out cuddle that I need when my latest project isn't quite perfect. The down side to this... I can't bake. I'm not being modest here, or looking for friends to tell me that I can, I genuinely can't do it. So much so that when my latest attempts failed even my pooch walked away in utter disgust!

And my pooch, he would walk a tightrope to get to cake! I know owner like dog.

I know that I have other skills, as a friend recently told me I can 'sew the f**k out of anything', and when it comes to actual cooking, my dinners always go down a treat (at people attended dinner parties- not just with the dog) but when God was handing out all the necessaries that create the perfect female I must have been climbing trees with the angel Gabriel when baking was dished out! Although I'm chuffed to bits with who I am and the skills I have, I think God did a pretty decent job putting me together, as with all things, much wants more and I want that extra missing piece. 

Now I've heard the usuals, 'it takes time,' 'you just need to practice,' 'follow the recipe exactly and you can't go wrong.' Well let me tell all you Nigella's and Delia's you can go wrong, you can go very wrong! The cakes still decorating my pooch's food plate tasted like petrol, they were like a wet flannel on the inside and crispier than Doritos on the outside. And don't be fooled into thinking this was a one off, before the fairy cakes came the flapjack that looked fantastic but because I put the thing on the top shelf, tasted like the burning of grease proof paper that had nearly taken me and my kitchen to meet my maker.

Can you see the burn lines? I cut most of them off before my fella caught me. Although, to be fair his remark of, 'it doesn't smell like its going well to be honest babe' probably suggests that he is onto me!

It is somewhat demoralising to watch your husband retch as he tries to make you feel better by tasting the cake and it makes me wonder if I should try to grow an extra boob to compensate for the lacking of femininity that baking provides. It's about as likely as me learning how to actually bake!

It's fair to say that through to my very core I am a maker not a baker and as much as I would love to be one, I will happily buy my goodies from one of you gifted people out there and pray that you have a smidgen of the jealousy that I feel about my crafting as I do about your baking- it would only be fair after all!

No rules only guidelines

I was fortunate enough that when growing my mum recognised my creativity and even more fortunate was I that she encouraged it. To this day she still buys me the best presents, last Christmas was a glue gun- and tells me she wants one of everything I make. Which is very encouraging even if I'm sure they join the calendars made out of dry pasta that I made when I was 5.

When I was about 10 my mum asked me if I wanted to go to cross stitch class- of course I did(!) I was nervous at first but being the over enthusiastic child that I was, and still am, I made friends and loved it instantly. I went to that class every Saturday, my mamma would take me, leave me there and pick me up to go back to hers on the bus. I carried on going well into my teens and it changed from being taken, to meeting mamma at the bus stop, to making my way home by myself, a very proud day that was!

One of the things I learned at this class was that cross stitch should be as neat on the back as it is on the front.

Now let me tell you, as an eager 10year old this was not fun news, it meant I couldn't take all the short cuts I desperately wanted to take in order to be the first to finish- yep, I was that annoying kid too. But, Mary, the owner of the shop persevered with me and taught me patience, something she must have had bucket loads of! And I'm thankful that she did. Into my adult life I've very much taken the value and applied it to the crafts I do now. If the back looks a mess it takes the shine off the overall product. My last PIF was the framed 'Vintage' and the front was beautiful, but because I used a frame the back wasn't as nice. This month's PIF is much better. This is the front:

(it's a pen/paintbrush/knitting needle holder for those of you that hadn't worked it out yet)

And this is the back:

Pretty darn cute even if I do say so myself! I was originally going to try to glue the ends into the main pot but thought a bow might be much nicer. I don't like bragging but clearly I was right.

It's really satisfying seeing something come together, especially when they look as good as the tutorial photos, even better when you change aspects and it still looks good. That's why I think crafting will always be better than baking, no rules only guidelines!

It's just too nice to give away

My friend and I, whom I am praying doesn't check this, are doing something called Pay It Forward. I'm not sure how the official scheme goes but we've decided that once a month we will give each other a hand made craft gift. It doesn't have to be amazing, it can just be something fun, but it does have to be hand made.

She (who shall remain nameless and if reading this needs to stop right now!)is far superior to me and the gifts I have given her pale in comparison to the ones I've received, I've had hand made soap, blue (my favourite colour) fabric bunting and jewellery from her whereas she has received, a bowl made entirely of buttons, 

A lavender stack, a notice board and paper bunting from me. There have been more but I'm beginning to lose count!

And although her next gift from me will no doubt be something plain the one I've just finished for her is epic!

Now I realise I am the one saying this so I am more than a little biased but allow me to reveal May's PIF...

I'm sorry, but isn't that gorgeous? I had asked her what her favourite word was, although I had already thought of 'Vintage' so wish I had trusted myself a little more, and set to making this beauty.

The frame is from a charity shop, the flowers a freebie from a magazine and the embellishments I bought in a craft sale, so this is incredibly cheap to make. But more than that I just love it. I have told her that her next gift is on its way but I have also said I might need to keep hold of it until we finish the year as I am really not sure if I will manage to top this one - albeit true, it also means I get to keep it for a while longer to enjoy it. Is that really mean?