Humbled. Again.
Last week was pretty rough at work, so I thought I’d make a few pairs of lounge pants for some friends and my husband.
Why did I think that would help? It didn’t.
Two months ago, I gutted my art/sewing studio in a pandemic lockdown-fueled burst of tidying up, and found a lounge pants pattern I’d used before the turn of the century. I set it aside on the “don’t give this away” pile and plowed ahead with sorting buttons or some other Important Craft Supply. I remember making a pair that was far too big for me, out of fabric with small chickens and eggs on it, and lounged about the house in them for a few years before giving them to the thrift store in another burst of studio/sewing room tidying up (non-pandemic-fueled). Now I wish I’d saved them, because I can’t find the pattern and ended up buying a new one deceptively labeled as “easy” and “ for the beginner.”
I don’t know what skill level comes before “beginner”, but I’m currently in that category (probably all by myself), at least with this pattern, while the ghosts of my more capable sewing ancestors giggle and roll their eyes from their perches on my family tree. It’s embarrassing—must I always make my mistakes in front of a crowd? It would seem so.
Right now there are thirty yards of fabric patiently waiting their turn on the ironing board while I teach myself again how to read a sewing pattern. I made it as far as pinning the frighteningly-fragile tissue paper pattern to the fabric and cutting out the pieces (I want points for that—it’s not hard, but tedious). Then, with “right sides together”, followed the instructions to stitch the “pants front to the pants back along the inside leg seam.” That’s where things went wrong and haven’t corrected themselves (meaning, I went to bed and the elves didn’t finish the job). I’m glad I did laundry Friday and no one is waiting in a state of undress somewhere for me to finish these. At ease, folks. Smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em. It’s going to be a while.
If you know me even casually, you know I lean a lot toward connecting thoughts and events and circumstances that occur a few miles or days apart. Earlier this week, one of my day job’s to-do list items was rewriting pattern instructions for the good and talented volunteer team members who make items of comfort and dignity for our hospice patients. This team is a solid group of heart-driven individuals whose sewing and crafting skills cover a broad spectrum. My own sewing skills fall somewhere in the “fair to middling” spot on that continuum, and I create my own shortcuts, like every good sewing person does (slight departure—what do you call someone who sews? A “sewer”? I’m not sure I like the looks of that. I’ve seen a growing linguistic movement toward “sewist” in some spots—mostly social media—and it sounds only a bit better. I’ll stick with my commitment to people-first language and use “people who sew”. My apologies for its cumbersome-ness). Writing new assembly instructions for a patient gown or a bone-shaped neck pillow is more daunting than it sounds, since most of this team buzzes right through the process using techniques they’ve perfected over the years. When you slow that process down, step by step, and try to view it through the eyes of a beginner or someone who doesn’t sew at all, there’s a tendency to overthink and overcomplicate the wording.
Now we’ve entered my realm of expertise and mastery.
So there I am on a Tuesday, and a Wednesday, trying to deconstruct the process for making a catheter bag cover (which is a entry-level item on the sewing skills scale), and I’m leaning hard on my gift of overcomplicating the wording. I won’t bore you with the details, but as I continued to wrestle with describing when and how to attach the straps to the bag and where to put the hook pieces of the hook-and-loop attachments, I got a pretty bad case of the cranks, and may have even uttered a few unrepeatable oaths directed toward the yet-to-join-our-team beginner (but honestly, myself): it’s a simple tote bag design, for Pete’s sake! (but…I didn’t say Pete). Just look at the photo of the finished one and figure it out! I tried to put my heart back in a more charitable seat, but failed rather well. Not shy about asking for help, I did just that and now have better instructions without the stink of frustration all over them (thanks, Jo).
I wouldn’t wager much money on it, but I’d put something on the table that a day of internally berating some unknown, well-intentioned future hospice volunteer over the instructions for a sewing pattern, for Pete’s sake! (again, didn’t say Pete) may have come back with its mouth full of teeth to bite me when I saw the word “easy” on that lounge pants pattern and considered myself easily above that. Of course I can make five pairs of lounge pants in a weekend, and a bonus pair of boxer shorts for Patrick! How hard can it be?
Apparently, rather hard. In fact, at the moment, all quite impossible until I put on my factory-made (thank goodness) big girl pants and get back into that sewing room for another round of Liz’s Head Meets Sewing Pattern Logic. I’ve got six people and thirty yards of fabric counting on me not to wimp out.
(Hello, Jo?…)
