I don’t know what it is about September, but once my birthday passes, my mind moves on to Christmas. I’m dreaming of a crafty Christmas, and it’s inspiring me to do some quick projects…just little this and thats for various people and purposes.
The train tote was a must, as Jake’s school doesn’t allow backpacks, so that was finished the day before school started last week. Meg asked about the fabric, but I’m sorry to say I don’t know where to find it. I picked it up at my local fabric shop several months back, after trying (and failing) to convince Jake that maybe he’d like some different kind of fabric, since he had trains on his tote bag last year. No such luck. But isn’t that brown and white striped handle cute? And what about that cute “jeans” stretchy handle on the long blue bag…they’re both from my new bin of goodness below! But I digress.
The blue bag is for Auntie Amy & Uncle Rob, who are getting the keys to their new downtown San Diego loft today! We’re going down on Thursday to “help” them settle in, although with two small boys in tow, I’m not sure how much “help” I’ll actually be. But the best part about their new home is that it’s directly above the baseball stadium, which houses a playground and a miniature baseball diamond where kids can play any time they want to! Way to go, Amy & Rob; you picked the right building. So the blue bag is some heavyweight fabric I’ve had around for a while, turned into a tote with a drawstring at the top (also from my new bin of stuff) for the baseball bat and whiffle balls the boys wanted to give them as a housewarming present.
On the left is a pretty little flowery fabric that reminds me of Little House on the Prairie. This is exactly the fabric I picture in my head when I read about Ma’s poplin dresses with sprays of pink roses on it. I have no idea if that’s historically accurate, but I thought this skirt would make me feel like a prairie girl when I wear it. Which I haven’t. Because I stink at sewing clothes. Just ask my mom. I did give it a good try, following Angry Chicken‘s 5 minute skirt pattern. An hour and a half later, I have a skirt that I will never wear. (at least not until I fix it.) It is in no way the fault of the pattern, it is completely operator error here. And it may have something to do with the fact that I chose fabric that needed a lining. And it really needed some eyelet ruffles to peek out below. But I have not given up on it yet. I’m just a little mad at it for the time being.
Perhaps because of the above mentioned clothes-sewing disability, I have just finished two dolls. But if you look carefully at Jake’s doll in the picture, I was thinking ahead to the hours of frustration that making doll clothes would bring, I oh-so-cleverly stitched some pants and shirts on with embroidery thread. There. They’re dressed. And no, they’re not dolls (I misspoke a moment ago) they’re “guys.” “Camping guys” for adventuring on our upcoming campouts this fall, to be specific. And wait until you see Tyler’s “guy,” he’s got some wild hair, perfect for my wild baby boy. I’ll do a separate post about them sometime.
But I don’t want to leave you without showing you the jackpot I hit at my mom’s house the other day. It went something like this: “Mom, do you have any handles I could use for Jake’s preschool bag?” Oh, yes, she says, and pulls out this:
A whole large tub of vintage trims and handles and pom pons and other fancy stuff. After noticing me marveling over it all, my dear mother expressed her dear wish to have this tub out of her house, and sent it home with me. I’m always hearing about other people getting all kinds of stuff out thrifting, or from their grandmother, and I’m always jealous. I had no idea there was a whole tub for me, just waiting in my mom’s sewing room. And when I dug in, I found this:
and my favorites, these:
Just look at the old card those orange tapestry straps are wrapped around. I don’t think I’ll be able to throw it away when the straps are gone. I have no idea where this tub will go in my sewing space, but I’ll take it, nonetheless. Thank you, Mom.