More toys, Or A Stitch in Time

This morning a trip to Wal-Mart to get some fabric to reupholster (way overstating the case) the cushions on the sofa in the living room turned into an opportunity for Tom to get a new toy -- a sewing machine.

He got all excited about sewing months ago when he was staying with Chris in Chicago. Chris, needing to occupy himself while recovering from the massive cancer surgery he had undergone, had taken up sewing. He was even taking classes. I think what started it was when he bought his wife a sewing machine. Being someone with more assets than self-restraint, he bought her one that -- now I am generalizing here based on Tom's report -- essentially made the clothes all by itself. What you did was place some material, a spool or two of thread and a pattern (or just a picture from a catalog) near the thing and pushed a button. The machine took over from there. (Personally, I suspect a small Russian woman lives inside it and has one of those pincushions that you wear on your wrist.) So as I understand it, for ten thousand dollars you can buy a machine that will provide you with clothes for a cost of just two or three times what it would cost to buy them from the catalog in the first place.

The sewing machine Tom got on sale at Wal-Mart is not quite of this stature. It is a Brother LS 30, somewhat more modern than the one pictured above. Instead of doing all the work for you, it's primary function seems to be to drop pieces all around, shoot bobbins in all directions and generally frustrate the innocent person who bought it because of the box that says things like Easy to Use and Super Easy Automatic Bobbin Winding System. I am pretty sure that no man can resist any gadget that claims to include an automatic system of some sort.

I tried going to the library while he was getting all set up, but my timing was off and I got back too soon.

At the moment, Tom is sitting at the table muttering, "I don't understand this at all," and making noises about me trying to be of some help. I explained that I am incompetent in these matters. In fact, I pointed out that I have carefully cultivated incompetence so that I don't get asked to be of help when things like this are happening. He is not amused.

More anon.

I remind you that this all began with a simple search for some material to be folded and pinned around a couple of cushions. The plan was to use safety pins and maybe some fabric glue so we wouldn't have to take needle in hand at all.

But, nooooooo!