I wanted to do something different. I thought I might sew. I haven't had much desire to sew in a long, long time, but it has started to come back to me. Then I found myself with a few hours free and all I could think was: I really should put up those last few dishes, Maybe I could go ahead and put the kids toys away instead of going through the ordeal of having them do it themselves, It would be a really nice thing if I actually ironed my husband's shirts for a change. Not that these aren't good thoughts, well, except cleaning up the kids' mess. But faced with the actuality of sewing--not the dreaming about it--I was preferring to clean house?? It was too hard. I hadn't touched my sewing machine in months. And the actual sitting down and doing it just seemed too daunting. I preferred to dream about it. It was easier. Safer. I mean, what if I didn't have it in me anymore? What if I tried to make the things I saw in my head and failed? After all, I had been looking at lots of great sewing blogs for inspiration--what if my stuff wasn't good enough?? Am I the only one who's ever been plagued with these crazy thoughts?
So, I'm easing into this gently. With no expectations. No comparisons with others allowed. Giving myself the freedom to play and even make something ugly or crooked or useless. Freedom to fail. But mostly freedom to fall in love with sewing all over again. And what better thing to cultivate that love than patchwork, I ask? From beloved vintage fabric scraps? Even better.
Who knows where I'm going with this, but I spent most of yesterday cutting teeny tiny 2-inch squares (Gosh, they look so tiny to me!) with a couple of Ayumills' fantastic tutorials in mind. I'm thinking something pretty and practical would be a nice start.