I wake up, stumble downstairs, and see this:
That's right. My sewing room barfed into the family room. And now, I think it might be my turn. I knew this was coming. It's why I cleaned the family room...so my Sweetie could do wonderful things for me. It's just a little sickening to see it all (well, this is really only half...there's another room) of it stacked in one giant pile.
Here's the sewing room now:
This is the corner where my main machines and ironing board sit.
This is another corner, featuring one of my prize posessions: a 1940's industrial straight stitch machine with a serious motor on it. Sewing with it probably feels a lot like flying a B-1 Bomber.....you can FEEL the raw power. They probably sound alike too. The problem is that the stitch length is permanantly huge. The manufacturer dug out what little information they had left on the machine...it's not adjustable...and it's Huge...probably 6 or 8 mm. I'm guessing it was used for heavy duty tents or car interiors. And I'm afraid it's going to have to go, along with a menegerie of other vintage machines that don't work. Anybody care to pick it up? There is one special one I'm hanging onto...a black portable Singer very much like the one I watched my Mom use...and that I used to sew my first panel pillow (a hamburger with a face). That was the most beautiful machine in the world and I loved to tilt the machine back and hide treasures in it's base. Remember it, Mom?