So this is how it starts.
I go out shopping with my Mom and she says, "Oh, I have to take you to this one place..." and then adds one of the following hook lines: "It's so cute." "You'll just love it." "I thought of you."
And just like when I was thirteen, I'm blindly following the only woman who really taught me how to shop, my Mother, into some place that will be my downfall.
A few months ago I followed my mother into a shop that declared the clothes weren't really clothes, but "wearable art". I ended up buying a blouse that cost me about a day and a half worth of my paycheck.
It is art. I just want you to know.
Now it's art with a small spot on it that I'm hoping a dry cleaner can get out.
So last year my Mom does that "let's go shopping" thing with me and I end up in a store that makes napkins. Well, napkins and cute little aprons. Mostly napkins.
"They make napkins," says my Mom, "Aren't they great?"
For the record, my Mom owns like 457 napkins and placemats. She doesn't even own that many shoes.
I tell her, "They are great."
And then I say, "You know, I used to sew. I could do this. I could make us napkins. I just need a machine."
My Mom says, "You could make napkins and sell them."
My daughter says, "Can I get this apron? I need this apron."
Four sets of napkins and one child size apron later, I'm daydreaming of my own napkin business.
The only problem is I don't have a sewing machine and I haven't used one in over twenty years.
Fast forward to Mother's Day of this year when I tell my husband that Costco has a sewing machine on sale. I hold out the coupon to him and say, "This is what I want for Mother's Day."
"It's not very romantic," says my husband. (He always says that).
I proceed to tell him all the amazing things I could do if I could just have this sewing machine. I tell him about mending clothes, adding ruffles to things, and yes, making napkins.
I get the sewing machine.
It sits in the box for two months until I finally get up the courage to open it.
"Wow," I say to my husband.
I find a video online that shows me how to wind a bobbin and thread my machine. I watch it three times.
"That looks scary and complicated," says my husband (who has an IQ of over 150, mind you).
"Yep."
I dive right in. I buy thread and material and start making this "strip blanket" that I saw on Pinterest. Basically, it's a bunch of strips of material sewn together that somehow become a blanket.
After day one of my sewing strips of material together, I decide to fortify myself with goodies by going to Trader Joe's.
Who should I bump into at Trader Joe's, but the woman who ran the Costume Shop for the Theater Department I was in during college.
"This is fortuitous," I tell her, showing that I am a college graduate by using big words, "I just bought a sewing machine."
"Oh, dear," she says, "Do you want my phone number?"
Apparently, she remembers how I sew better than I do.
I take her number.
I also tell my friend who designs and sews costumes for a living that I bought a sewing machine and I might be needing her help.
"What can you sew?" she asks.
"Flat things," I tell her. "Blankets. Tableclothes. Napkins. Straight lines."
I finish the blanket for my daughter. It looks better than I thought. I have to admit, I feel a thrill in knowing that I did it without anyone's help. Well, except the online lady who told me how to wind a bobbin and thread a machine three times. The strips of fabric are crooked and according to my daughter, the blanket already has a hole somewhere. So what? I made it.
"Can you make me a Nemo costume?" my daughter asks.
"I don't think so. I can make you a napkin."
"I don't want to be a napkin for Halloween."
I still haven't made a napkin. I've made part of a tablecloth and I've made a curtain to go on the play room closet. I contemplated a Halloween costume for my kids, but how many Halloween costumes are out there that only require one to sew straight, flat lines?
Anyway, if you see a bunch of people dressed like napkins for Halloween, chances are it's my family.
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