Choosing Happiness

Whenever I am depressed/angry/frustrated/overly emotional, my instinct is to sit on the couch, cover myself in a blanket, and watch episode after episode of Gilmore Girls, The Tudors, West Wing, or some other comfort show.  I'm not one of those people who grabs the nearest comfort food and eats; when I am feeling down, I usually forget to eat.  I don't want to leave the couch.  I just want to snuggle with my blanket and my dogs.

Two weeks ago, I was in the midst of one of those moments.  That day, I had met with the ordination committee for a second ordination interview, only to be told for a second time that I wasn't ready, that they would not ordain me.  I was frustrated, angry, and depressed all at the same time.  That afternoon, I'd played Monopoly with Colin and a friend in an attempt to get my mind off of things.  But now I was all alone in the apartment.  Vegging seemed like a fantastic idea.

Vegging was the option I frequently took.  It's easy.  It's comforting.  It allows you to feel better in the moment, to forget whatever it is that's bothering you.  There's nothing wrong with vegging with things are bad.  

But then I looked over to my sewing machine and my most recent project.  It was a peplum blouse that I had eagerly been working on the day before my interview.  I was particularly excited about this blouse, because I'd made it twice before, and was in love with the pattern.  Not only that, but the blouse's fabric was a cute cotton print with bicycles on it.  All that was left was the finishing, my least favorite part.  Buttons, buttonholes, and hems.  Blerg.  

I decided to sew.

It may seem like a small thing, deciding to finish my blouse instead of laying on the couch.   But when you struggle from depression, like I do, and you find yourself feeling down, you have occasionally have a choice.  You can take the comforting route, the easy route, and feel momentarily better.  But I've found that later, I don't feel better at all.  I lecture myself for being lazy.  I think of all the things I could have accomplished.  And all the good feeling I got from snuggling with my dogs and watching Gilmore Girls vanishes.  

Choosing to sew, wasn't simply choosing to do something instead of sitting on the couch.  It was choosing to not let my depression overwhelm me.  It was choosing to push through the bad feelings and not only be productive, but feel productive.  It was choosing happiness.  

Now don't get me wrong - feeling down and being depressed are two different things.  But for someone like me, noticing that moment when you are feeling down and catching it before it becomes something worse can make all the difference.  When you are deep in depression, that decision is not even there.  Sometimes, the depression has already overwhelmed you, and you can't even imagine happiness, even when it is close by.  Choosing to be productive is not an option, because you are drowning in emotions that you cannot control.  But sometimes, occasionally, you are given a gift.  You are given that choice.

And that night, I chose to be happy.  

So, what do you do?

It's a question you hear a lot.  When you meet someone new and strike up a conversation, it's bound to be asked at some point.

"So, what do you do?"

It's a question that has become increasingly more interesting (and difficult) to answer.  For a while, it was simply "I'm a student."  Then, it became "I'm a student and a children's minister."  Then I was simply a children's minister.  And all of those answers were fine.  A little out of the ordinary, but nothing that didn't at least lead to further conversation.

Then I left my church.  I wasn't in school, I didn't have a job, and I didn't have an answer to the question everyone asked.  "Well, I was a children's minister."  "I'm searching right now."  These are all correct and acceptable answers.  But it is so disheartening to give them!

Things have continued to change in my life, and among those changes is my answer to that question.  "I'm a chaplain at a children's hospital, I work at a mall museum store, and I am trying to start my own sewing business."

Might be a bit of an overload.

But the answer that I want to give to that question is much simpler.  What do I do?  I do what I love.  It has taken years to come to a place where I can say that I do truly love what all do, all that I do.  I feel fulfilled in my work, and am excited for it to continue.

When you ask someone what they do, typically the question you're asking is "What is your job?" or "How do you spend your time?"  But wouldn't it be interesting if the question we were asking was "How do you feel about what you do?"  And if we were to answer that question and share a bit more of ourselves than the work we do to make money.

I do what fulfills me.
I do what I need to get by.
I do what I want to.
I do what I enjoy.
I do what I have to, but someday I will do what I want to.

I work with amazing people.  I help incredible children (who often in turn help me).  I knit.  I sew.  I create.  I do what I love.

What do you do?

A new green dress

I love shopping for clothes.  There's something thrilling about going and trying on new things, seeing what fits well and what really doesn't.  I love looking at new designs and seeing how I might make them.  It isn't always about buying the things I try on…but there is something very satisfying about finding an outfit I love and making it mine.

Unfortunately, my wallet isn't bottomless.  Unfortunately, some days when I go to try on clothes, nothing fits and I leave feeling dejected.  I leave feeling like there is something wrong with me and my body, even though it is the clothes I tried on that were wrong!

On days like those, there is really nothing better than coming home and finding the perfect fabric, the perfect pattern, and going to work making something that I know I will love, that I know will fit, that I know is in my budget.

That's how I feel about this dress.  I could never have found something like this in a store that fit my body and my personality so well!  But when I combined this amazing green and white chevron cotton with my favorite Simplicity pattern (which I've now made three times….), I found a perfect dress for me.

I've made a few changes to the original Simplicity 1609 pattern.  The pattern has the front in two pieces, instead of one piece cut on the fold.  I didn't see any reason to not cut it on the fold, so that's what I've done for this dress and the last dress I made from this pattern.  I also changed the neckline from a crew neck to a boat neck-type look.  I also made the back a v neck.  While rummaging through my stash for a proper zipper, I only came up with a 4-inch zipper, and so I had to add buttons to the top, with a lapped zipper and a hidden snap below.  I think it turned out decently.  

Overall, I am incredibly happy with this dress.  I like it both with and without the belt, and think I'll be able to wear it a lot of places.  I wore it on Friday for my sister-in-law's rehearsal dinner, and plan on wearing it on a regular day as well.  

Sometimes it's great to go shopping and find ready-made things that fit perfectly.  But most of the time, I find my favorite outfits are ones I made with my own hands.  

Happy sewing!

Sewing with a Singer 66

I've been on a serious vintage kick, and it's NOT just sewing retro clothes!

Okay, so it IS sewing retro clothes…but on a vintage 1925 sewing machine!  Say hello to my gorgeous Singer 66!  It has a treadle, does NOT plug into the wall, and sews like a beast.

 

In college, we had an old metal machine that was fantastic to sew on while angry.  You felt like you were really accomplishing something, with all the clanking noises it made!  This machine is even better.  Each stitch says "KlUnka-klUnka," and the treadle shakes back and forth.  (Haven't had any complaints from the downstairs neighbor yet…)  Now, I know sewing machines aren't supposed to sound like that, but it's so satisfying!

It has some beautiful details that you would never see on a modern machine.  The gold decals, the ornate silver covering below…it all makes you feel as if you are sewing on something that was truly made with love.  

The Singer 66 was the very first sewing machine put into mass production, and was made for nearly 50 years!  It truly is an incredible machine.  Though it is very basic compared to today's models, it has a bobbin winder, adjustable stitch lengths, and will work during the zombie apocalypse!  

Above, the bobbin winder.  Below, a video showing how the bobbin winder works.  Listen to that great sound!!

I knew for my first project, I had to make something that was vintage.  I spent hours searching through 20s and 30s patterns for a dress or shirt I liked.  Eventually I found a Mrs. Depew pattern I liked, but was too impatient to start sewing to figure out the French enlargement process.  So, I pulled out an old favorite: Simplicity 3688.  

I made the pants once before from a cotton, and was happy with just about everything except for the height of the waist.  I know it is the style of the '40s, but I cannot do the under-the-boob waist-line.  I took about 3 inches off the waist, and it still is pretty high.  

Last time, I noticed how incredibly wide the legs were, but I decided to keep them wide for this pair.  They are really comfortable, but not as dressy as they could be.  Next time (because there will surely be a next time), I will have to make them a little narrower.  

From the above picture, you can see on the left the snap placket peeking out.  I've become addicted to snaps.  Zippers are a pain!

The heart-shaped pocket I put on the front.  

Excited to see what sewing is to come with my new sewing machine!!

Living Toward…Part One

Yesterday, an important anniversary nearly passed by unnoticed by me.  It was July 21, 2014, seven years to the day from the release of the seventh and final Harry Potter book.

Now, it may seem silly that a grown woman wistfully remember dressing up in robes with a lion hat perched on her head, real-live radishes hooked on her earrings, and a cork necklace around her neck, waiting impatiently for a brick of a book to be released, and I will not blame you if you laugh at that idea.  But, for that young woman, that day - July 21, 2007 - was one she had dreamed of and lived toward for many, many years.

It is that idea of living toward that intrigues me today.  When I think back to that young woman, waiting with her friends in her costume for a book to be released, I realize how happy she was to be living toward the moment that book would be placed in her hands.  So much excitement had led up to this moment: hours spent discussing and debating what had happened in prior books, and what could possibly happen in this one; even more hours reading and rereading each page of each book, reliving the stories as if for the first time.  All of those hours, days, years, had been spent living toward the release of this seventh and final book, when all would be revealed and the story would be concluded.

When she received that book, was the excitement over?  No…but she began living toward something new…the next chapter, and the next, then the end of the book, then the conversations that would come.  Some new thing to live toward appeared, and she followed along the path toward those new things.  And other things, not related to Harry Potter, certainly followed.  College graduation, acceptance into graduate school, attending graduate school, marriage…the list goes on.

In our lives, we are accustomed to living toward things.  Our next birthday, the conclusion of a school project, prom, graduation, marriage.  One thing follows when another is concluded, and we are rarely left with nothing to look forward to.  

It is the living toward that is exciting, isn't it?  When I looking forward to the final Harry Potter book, those moments of living toward were (dare I say it?) more exciting than the actual living of it.  It was more thrilling to imagine what might be in the book, than to read what was in the book.  But the danger of it is that we might become too enthralled in the imagining that when that thing we have been living toward arrives and passes…we do not know what to do next.  

My senior year of high school, I spent weeks on a major project for my literature class.  It was a project and presentation I had looked forward to doing since my sophomore year.  My every thought was about this project - what work needed to be completed, what work had been completed and if it needed to be edited, how I would present it, what I would wear when I presented it.  My whole existence became centered around living toward this project.  When the presentation concluded, suddenly I had nothing.  I had forgotten about prom, forgotten about graduation and college…I had forgotten that I needed to live toward something else next.  

So what happens when that thing we have been living toward disappears?  If the seventh Harry Potter book had been canceled, never to be released, what would I (and so many others) have done with all the anticipation that had been building?  If the project I had prepared for suddenly had been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances, what would I have done with all of that preparation?  

I've recently been struggling with this problem.  Following marriage and graduation from divinity school, I have been living toward having a family.  It has become my all-focused goal.  After all, it is what we are supposed to do, right?  Graduate, find a job, get married, start a family.  But when miscarriage followed miscarriage, and the expected ease of having a child proved unrealistic, I found myself with nothing to live toward.  

Saying "nothing" is perhaps an overstatement.  I have everyday goals and happinesses.  I certainly live toward each evening when my husband came home, toward ordination into Christian ministry, toward many other things….but that central thing that I was living toward had seemingly vanished.  How do you move forward when the rug has been completely swept from underneath you?  How do you keep standing, keep living?  How do you seek out that next truly meaningful thing to live toward?  

It has been, and continues to be, a complete life adjustment.  There are only so many days one can set aside to crying in bed and waiting for life to cooperate with your expectations.  And so, lately I have been seeking out new things to live toward.  They've been small, but have managed to fill that space in my life.  Cataloguing our entire 500+ book library.  Learning how to fix and sew on a 1920s-era treadle sewing machine.  Rediscovering the utter joy of reading for pleasure.  Finding a job.

I'm not entirely sure what I am living toward these days.  Perhaps it is finding those simple life pleasures that make you smile.  Or perhaps it is seeking out something new to live toward.  Living toward something to live toward.  

Ice Day Sewing

The weather down here went a little crazy yesterday.  Wednesday it was in the 70s, then Thursday night and Friday morning we got sleet, freezing rain, and general wintery weather.

I should be using this time to work on my finals and get things done before next week.  But…I had fabric that was calling my name, and I just couldn't resist.  There's something about a cold, wintery day that just makes me want to curl up with fabric and make something.

I bought the black and white houndstooth fabric from JoAnn Fabrics when their suiting was 60% off.  I've been lusting after their wool suiting for a while now, but fell in love with this wool blend.  It's still lovely to touch and drapes nicely.  Plus, the pattern is just fun.  My original plan was to use some black linen I found in the remnants bin (which was 75% off!), but there wasn't nearly enough.  Instead, I found some leftover red fabric that I thought looked nice with the houndstooth.  It wasn't too plain, but the pattern didn't clash with the wool.

Using the peplum blouse pattern from Simplicity 1590, I sketched out a bodice on some muslin.  The blouse pattern have buttons down the front with darts, and I wanted a princess seam with buttons on the front, so I had to alter the pattern quite a bit.   Also, after testing the pattern out on some scrap fabric, I decided I didn't like the shoulder seams, so I took those out and made the pattern so that the front side was connected to the back side, and the front center was connected to the back center.  I knew the basic shape fit me fairly well. Let me add that I've never done anything like this before, so I was pretty confident it would fail.  

I turned the front pattern piece into two pieces (Front Side and Front Center) by drawing a line from the center of the shoulder, to the side dart, to the lower dart, then followed the dart down to the bottom of the bodice.  I also removed the side dart on the Front Side, which made the Front Side piece more curved.  This took several tries, but eventually I had a pattern I liked.  

The left pattern piece is the back center (top) and front center(bottom).  The right pattern piece is the back side (top) and the front side (bottom).  

When I had the bodice as I wanted it (my husband told me it was the best looking shirt I'd ever made), I cut it out of the red fabric, and put some of the houndstooth around the neckline.  The skirt was easy - I have a basic circle skirt pattern that I adore.  My fabric was wide enough to cut the skirt in one piece.  I added side pockets and a back slit for buttons, and was pretty pleased.  

Here is the dress so far.  The skirt is basted onto the bodice, and the "belt" is actually my husband's tie.  I realize the skirt is now sewed on straight.  But something seems to be missing.  I am not sure where to go from here.  Any suggestions?

Never underestimate the power of a twirly skirt

I used to laugh when I heard someone say "Modest is hottest!"  It seems so hokey in this modern age of cleavage, ridiculously short shorts, and bare midriffs.  When I was in high school and middle school, I so desperately wanted to fit in that I tried to wear what everyone was wearing...only to have my mom pitch any shirt that didn't cover my midriff.

I was mad at her then, but I think I appreciate it now.  Nowadays, I'm more comfortable in a twirly, knee-length skirt and a t-shirt with a cami underneath than in shorts and a tank top.  I hardly ever wear shorts, or short skirts.  It just isn't me.

In college, I bemoaned the fact that I couldn't find skirts that I liked, or dresses that matched the images in my head.  I wanted skirts that twirled, not skirts I had to tug at every time I sat down or stood up.  I wanted skirts that gave me room to move in, that let me sit cross-legged on the ground without worrying about the people sitting across from me.  I wanted a dress that flattered my figure not because it was tight-fitting, but because it was made for someone with my size.  But none of these things were sold in stores, at least not on my budget.  And besides, they just weren't "in."

But my friends who sewed costumes for Quidditch Club and Medieval Society began to show me that sewing wasn't just for cloaks and Tudor-era corsets.  I could sew my own skirts that were longer and twirly.  I could make my own dresses that matched the dresses in my mind.  I didn't have to compromise my own style simply because the fashion world deemed it "not in."

Now, when I hear the words "modest is hottest," I smile to myself.  There is something wonderful about a well-fitted dress that covers everything, but shows off a woman's figure.  It can be "hot" to wear a dress with a knee-length skirt and a high neckline.  Because being "hot" is less about how you look, and more about how you feel.  If you are comfortable and confident in what you wear, then everyone around you can see it.

The way you dress is important.  Some people may scoff at this, but I truly believe it.  When you wake up in the morning, put on your favorite outfit, and step out into the world, you're more likely to step out with a smile on your face.  You're more likely to stand tall and face the world confidently.  Being comfortable and confident in what you wear will lead you to be comfortable and confident in what you do.

A little floral bag

Every year when it starts getting warm, I like to get a new purse.  It seems like a silly thing, buying a new bag every summer, but it's a nice tradition.  My summer bags are light and floral, made from fabric instead of leather.  They're a little bigger, so I can put extra summertime books in them.  But there's one problem: they only last one season.  The fabric is thin, so by September or October, little holes and tears start showing up in the pockets.  The strap comes loose, or a buckle breaks.  It happens year after year: those cute, floral summer bags at Target and Walmart are just too cheaply made to last past fall.  It's a sad fact, but one I've come to accept.

Today, my husband and I were at Target and I passed by the purse section, hoping to sneak a peak at my summer bag options.  But even though the swimsuits and tank tops have been out since March, the purse section hasn't arrived at summer yet.  Disappointed, I told my husband about my summer purse problem.  He seemed to think it was silly that I bought a new purse every summer.  Where was the one I bought last summer?  Why did I buy a new one every year?  Why didn't I just make one?

I scoffed at the suggestion at first.  Make one?  Usually making something meant that I had to buy fabric, and fabric was expensive.  Making a purse would cost more than buying one, and it wouldn't last any longer.  What purses I had made were short-lived.  Besides, I hadn't pulled out my sewing machine since December.  I didn't want to sew now.

But as we got closer to home, I started thinking about that purse I would make.  How many pockets it would have, what color fabric I could use from my stash.  And suddenly, I knew I'd rather make this year's summer purse than buy it.

The tan is a linen that I originally bought to make bread sacks.  It's been in my stash since January, completely forgotten.  The black and white floral is from a friend's dress that I'm making (and need to finish). All in all, it was a cheap little bag, much cheaper than the purses at Target would have been.  

I forgot how much I love sewing purses.  I made a few in college, but none in the past few years.  Purses are easier than dresses and skirts, and much faster.  I can draw what I want my purse to look like, and in a few hours it sits before me, complete and pretty close to what I'd dreamed.  There is something wonderful about imagining, designing, creating, and finishing a project in one sitting.  It makes me feel accomplished, without having to be patient.  

Sometimes it's nice not having to be patient.  :)