Sewing, Part 2

So this is the dress we made Elizabeth. (And this is her little sister wearing a too small ballerina costume).

She chose the fabric and designed it herself. Here is a copy of the "blueprint."

Elizabeth called the dress "perfect." She really loves it.

And the bobbin only ran out once. Of course, it being a demonic bobbin and all, it really made the most of that one time. I went to re-thread it. I pulled out my instruction manual. (Have I mentioned that I'm an inexperienced seamstress (I know you can't tell that from Elizabeth's dress and all, but it's true)?) And all was going well. I managed to get more thread onto my bobbin (thanks in part due to the instructions to myself that I had hand-written in my manual after my last 2-hour bobbin changing session). And then I put it back into the machine. I was pretty sure I'd put it in correctly. But the sewing machine would not sew. So I put it in again. And again. The needle came down and seemed to be hitting something hard, and the bobbin kept falling out, even though I was quite sure I'd clicked it in as instructed. I opened the bobbin area again. Out the bobbin came. And, sure enough, part of my sewing machine fell out with it. Just like that. Ha ha, said the bobbin goblin. My kids watched "Barbie's Princess and the Pauper" while I wept and hit the sewing machine and made strangling sounds in my throat.

"I'm just going to let Kip fix it," I said over and over as I compulsively flipped through the manual and continued with my strangling sounds.

And then there at the end of the manual was this page on how you can take part of the sewing machine out to clean the dust off. It was my part. It was supposed to come out. There was some comfort in that. However, I thought it rather frustrating (to put it non-curse-ish-ly) that it came out without my willing it to do so. Or performing any function that would encourage it to do so. Apparently, one of the screw thingies that held it in had become  loose.

And then all I had to do was look at the manual to figure out how to put it back together. Which might have been sort of easy if I had a somewhat mechanical mind or if the black and white sketch in my sewing machine had not been written by alien children planning their next crop circle.

After some more strangling noises. And perhaps some tears. And not a few rather unhappy mumblings in which I denounced sewing and sewing machines and manuals made in Taiwan for now and all eternity, I got my part back in. And secured it with its screwy thingies. And then, wonder of wonder, put my bobbin in and actually drew the thread up through the top. It had only taken me an hour, maybe an hour and 15 minutes.

Then, of course, I noticed that the needle was bent. Due to me trying to sew with a metal part out of place and in the way and all. So I went upstairs and found a new needle and read about how to replace it and did so. And then it was only about an hour and a half from start to finish. And my eyes were swollen. And princess Barbie and pauper Barbie were both realizing who their true loves were.

I decided that was enough "sewing" for the day and watched them marry into a nice happily ever after.

Oh, and if you really don't think demonic bobbins exist, know this: The last time I changed the bobbin (as in the time before this), the power went out right in the middle of my bobbin changing. Not a rain cloud in sight. Just a random hour-long power outage for kicks and giggles while I was trying to get my sewing machine to run and wind up a bobbin.

And one more question, Do you think "Bobbin Wars" or maybe "Bobbin Goblins" is a great idea for a reality TV show. We could hunt down extra-terrestrial bobbin interferers and fight for sewing justice throughout the universe.