Jezebel's Return: She Bringeth Sewing

The story begins with the realization that our living room curtains were outdated and of completely uninspired cream material which cat hair clings to for dear life. By comparison to the simplicity of the dining room curtains (you've been introduced to these curtains in a previous post) and the new wood flooring, these were to be tossed like so much cheese rind.

With living room windows that are 94 inches tall, multiplied by 4 windows and two panels each, we were looking at $30 per panel at the very lower end of pricing, which is $60 per window, and $240 for window coverings--sans hardware or additional sheers. We decided to cavalierly spurn the high cost of retail curtains by making our own. Which is to say, David buys the material and I do the sewing. (It just wouldn't work the other way around--promise).

Did you know that Hobby Lobby has a web coupon available every week for 40% off of a single regular-priced item? You can use one per day. I used one last week to purchase 25 yards of beautiful satin the color of molten chocolate. It was the first time I'd actually bought a whole bolt of something--had the band still around it and all. I felt very greedy for taking the whole thing, but I got over it very quickly. I also bought a perfectly-matching color of thread like a girl who actually has foresight.

We did a small test inside the store to see if it would repel cat hair. At first I was disappointed that I hadn't thought to bring a small ball of fur with us. But, fortuitously enough, I just happened to have some on my jacket. Ho ho! Things are looking up! We placed it on the material and then gave it a swipe to see if it held on or let go. Happily, the cat hair floated away--probably to lodge in some flannel somewhere, but let us try not to think too deeply on this.

My dear Momma Sue loaned me her sewing machine this past weekend and, in a pioneering spirit I cut the fabric to the lengths I needed (108" each, to allow for hems, a roomy rod pocket and so that it would hang almost to the floor) and set about learning how to sew again. Did I mention it has been a few years since I've sewn anything with a machine, by the way? The valuable sewing information from my home economics classes in high school has long been hidden away in the deep recesses of my mind. What does stay with me, though, is the girl that sewed through her thumb--went right through the nail. This does not contribute to my confidence with the sewing machine, oddly enough.

At any rate, a few hours of my nose stuck in the instruction manual and doing many test runs had me thinking I could do this, despite my consternation at the fact that I had bought perfectly-matched upholstery thread, and didn't face up to the fact that it was going to be impossible to use on satin until after I'd had already filled a bobbin and had a go at it on the first test. But, after a few more tests and twiddling with dials with numbers on them, I was feeling that feeling that comes very near to the under side of confidence. Twelve inches into the first edge of the actual curtain assured me that seam ripping was a skill that also deserved some attention. "Silly girl! Why don't you actually own a seam ripper?" "Well, I don't sew often." "Exactly! Silly girl!"

Satin is a beautiful fabric. It's even very pretty in the independent way it resists being hemmed up with thread, twisting this way and that in glorious, shimmering spite. "Yes, go on and adjust that tension more, I'm sure that will do the trick" it says, mockingly and fully confident of its own position of control in the situation. "Who are you, but a naive trifling? I've made tailors weep, and given professional seamstresses nervous breakdowns. And you think you can make me lie flat? Go on, try another pin, I dare you!"

It is at this point that one realizes the importance for mood lighting in one's living room.

The Human Angle

So, I'm writing this article on roller derby. I've chosen to take the human angle, as the robot angle didn't seem to offer as much depth as one would imagine, and because very few robots have ever played roller derby. Sure, there was bot derby greats like "Hot Bot II" of the Houston Hard Drives, "2 Sexy 4 Your Bot E" who skated for the Riverside Roller Bots and "Transducer Trauma" who was a popular jammer for the Seattle System Crashers. As I understand, bot derby was much-heralded at the outset, but ultimately failed to capture the attention of a large fan base, which is so necessary in order for a sport to get a solid toe-hold in society. But then there's baseball, which just goes to show that there are always those rare exceptions.

In taking the human angle, I had a better chance of getting some good interviews, as humans are usually interested in themselves and when asked to talk about that, they are usually happy to oblige. Bloggers are especially likely to wax long in their explications of self, and are an easy target. However, I've found that their tendency to veer way off topic can be somewhat distracting.

By the way, here's a picture of Dot Matrix, one of the first proponents of bot derby:

Writers Groups: Daffodils or Dungeon?

I can't speak for all writers, but I need an umbrella under which I may safely share my fledgling work prior to sharing it with the Cynic, the Unimpressed, and the Superior. I am still sensitive enough to seek out some affirmation from a few trusted confidants before sending it out to gallivant in the downpour of rejection by a larger audience. Hence, a writers' group.

I've been involved in groups of this kind only in writing classes, and have found that they can be the most motivating and inspirational experiences, where the people click and the writing flows like a well-fed stream. Of course next to the stream all these songbirds are just happy to be alive and eating bugs, with some mating thrown in for good measure, and out in the meadow there are all manner of benevolent humming bees, butterflies floating about from flower to flower, and the virtual writing desk is an inviting blanket with several fine-tipped pens of blue ink, a deliciously new composition pad, and a picnic basket full of fine cheeses, crackers, fruit, chocolates, and a few meandering ladybugs for effect. No wine, as this makes me feel less creative than feeling the need to take an unproductive nap, but perhaps some iced coffee instead. "The hiiiiiiiiiills are aliiiiiiiive with the sound of muuuuuuusiiic." This is what writing groups should be. And can be! Dear people! Are you with me? Skip with me through the meadow! Roll down the clover-laden hills where no fire ant has trod! Sample the Gouda! Let us write with joy and abandon!

Alternatively, without the right people, positive attitudes, and safety net, a writers' group could meet in their virtual damp, moldering basement where a single naked light bulb hangs from the ceiling and everyone has shifty eyes and tents their fingers gratuitously. Here, you have to be careful how cheerful you are, and must instead work hard to develop your defenses, as occasionally a fellow basement-dweller will smack you in the back of your head for no apparent reason, citing the alleged fact that there was a fly on the back of your head as an explanation, and then going back to practicing their eye shifts and nuanced finger tenting. But there was no fly. Or, at least you didn't see a fly, so a fly is doubtful. But then, this is a kind of depressing room, so maybe a fly would be apropos. But really--a fly? So you smack them in the back of the head and blame it on the fly as well.

Please do not try to delve too deeply in symbolism or meaning. The fly is not real. [Or is it?] Moving on:

Okay, okay, so some slight exaggeration has been used. Writing groups are probably somewhere in the middle, where we neither always have the best attitudes nor the worst, and our personalities at least function together in a manageable sort of way.

Mark, Kami, David, and I have met just twice so far, but so far so good. I've had the opportunity to work with Kami before. She has a journalism background, so she is most handy at stemming the tide of J'Non's excessive wordiness. We work well together. (See, Kami? That sentence was to the point and didn't even have a comma in it! Woo!) The fellows were wildcards, since I'd never worked with either of them in this capacity before. And since I'm married to one of them, of course you never know how those dynamics are going to work out.

Some moments which have crystallized in my mind for the first meeting:

Kami looks like she is seriously entertaining the idea of dumping perfectly good Starbuck's on my head when I suggest that she read her deeply personal poem out loud. In Starbuck's. It's a good thing she hasn't yet honed her ability to use the Force to be able to choke me with her mind from across the table like Darth Vader. Whew! That was a close one.

David, Kami, and I try to suppress any obnoxiously loud laughter over Mark's humor piece, with varying success. At one point Kami gets so entertained that she starts bonking her forehead on the table. It was kind of loud. And just made me laugh more.

We spend several minutes on the onomatopoeia choice of "zik, zik, zik" for the sound that corduroy pants make when you walk. I mean, this is a sparkling example of the kind of literary gems you can find in a writers' group! Yessss!

The encouragement to keep writing is such a boon, and further convinces me that these are absolutely vital to successful and rewarding experiences in writing.