Quilting the Plaids

With such a busy week, it's been good to have a relaxed, fun project to work on. Over the past weekend I pin basted and managed most of the machine quilting. Snatching some time one weekday evening, I finished it up.

The quilting really brings it to life and also softens the transitions a bit. Here's a close-up:

I had a few glitches here and there, but overall, this was the easiest and best-looking free-motion quilting I've done. With the spectacularly poor start to my machine-quilting efforts a few years ago, I've since tried to give myself every advantage. I can say that gloves with those little grippy dots, a teflon mat on the machine bed, a set-in table (giving a wide, very flat surface), and plenty of flat table space to the left and the back really help. Still, my Bernina and I were not working well together. I just couldn't get reasonably consistent stitch length. The cramped bed area was annoying. Never knowing when I'd run out of bobbin thread add more frustration. Every project was a high-stress affair, with aching back and genuinely bad quilting. I dreaded doing more. And frankly, that was one reason I started hand quilting.

It was also one of my motivations for getting a new machine, and this is my first free-motion quilting project using it. My Viking Sapphire 870 has five speeds, and speed 3 (a little faster than half) seems to mesh really well with how I move the quilt. It's such a relief to not have to pay attention to foot pressure on the pedal. I just press slowly (the machine has a very smooth start and acceleration) to do a neat start and then put my foot all the way down and concentrate on moving the quilt. Also, I like the spring-action foot. I set the foot lift to it's highest level and increase the tension well above (5.0) what the machine sets as the default (3.0). I love hearing the beeps to let me know I need to shorten my stitches before I run out of bobbin thread! The huge bed space really makes a difference. I actually enjoyed the machine quilting, and the lack of pain in my back was so nice.

It's a good thing this was a quilt without expectations, though. When I had an area just 6 inches by 9 inches to go, I ran out of thread. Completely out. My first reaction was "Oh no!" But then, I thought, "Oh well, what other thread do I have? How about the lavender?"

Works for me.

Next: I have the binding cut. Just need to find time to apply it.

Bare Floors

Right after the closing on our condo, the first thing we did was tear out the carpeting---about 1200 square feet in all. Next, we had tiled installed. Everywhere. 1500 square feet. It makes the place look light and airy, and it doesn't harbor dust and crud. We love it. But, it is a bit stark. 

Since I knew perfectly well that it would highly unlikely that I would be able to buy rugs that (a) don't outgas too much, (b) are the colors I want, and (c) we have any hope of being able to afford, my brain started working on ways to make some. It's a challenge. Rugs are big. Rugs take lots of fabric. 

My first idea was braided rugs. And I am indeed starting a very interesting braiding project involving fabric from khaki pants (I'll get to that in another post). My next idea was chenille, sort of. In my Net research, I ran into Nannette Holmgren's Faux Chenille site. Hmm. Looked like it could be used for rugs. Eventually, I dug out my copy of Twenty Easy Machine-Made Rugs by Jackie Dodson. Yup, it covered a couple of similar techniques, although at the time it was written, the nifty little chenille cutter hadn't been invented yet. 

I decided to go for it. This is one of my weak points. I have a long history of starting very large projects using new-to-me techniques. Naturally, I run into all sorts of problems that could have been headed off by someone with some experience. So, this time, I actually started with some samples. A lot depends on the order of the layers, as well as the nature of each fabric.

 

 

Encouraged, I tried a couple of pillows. They're not spectacular, but they're certainly red, which was part of my goal.

 

On to making a living room rug! A search of my stash turned up a few loosely woven fabrics in white (that I'd been carting around for, oh, 20 years). I bought several wonderful clearance fabrics in various beiges, plus small amounts of two full-price ones that I couldn't resist. 

After washing and shrinking, I taped the backing to the floor and carefully smoothed the layers on top, overlapping joins a little, keeping everything on grain. I added blocks of light green (which goes with the walls) on top. The fabrics were in different sizes and had some different thickesses, which I factored in as I tried to create a pleasing 3-D pattern. I used safety pins to secure (or so I thought) the layers (not easy, considering that the base layer is a tightly woven, heavy cotton). I drew sewing guidelines every six inches. It wasn't enough. After getting some of the channels sewn, I had to lay out the rug again and add more pins and markings. 

Sewing the half-inch channels near the edge was fine. As I got further in, the layers shifted more (because I was constantly having to maneuver the whole thing), the marked lines became less accurate, and the bulk made guiding the fabric under the needle more error prone. And an accurate 45-degree angle and even channel widths are important for the finished look. Working from all the corners in toward the center seemed the only way to tame this beast, but that has it's hazards---you can see the puffiness forming, although most of that can be pretty easily eased in. It may yet, however, turn out to be a mistake.

The closer I get to the center (which is seeming further and further away), the more the maneuvering needed, and the more challenging it all is.  

I'm buoyed by the fact that it looks like the end result will be good. I am also delighted that I have the new sewing machine because it will automatically cut the threads at the end of a line of stitching (and pull them to the back), and each line ends well in from the edge. That was difficult to deal with on the old machine. 

In a few days, I hope to have the stitching done and be ready to slash and bind!

By the way, in the last photo, you can see several layers of snow on our window sill. We're only .7 inches from breaking the all-time snowfall record for the season. 

A New Machine! And Old Ones

I took the plunge! I bought a Viking Sapphire 870. This line is the one with the 10-inch bed and lots of other quilt-centered features--every one of which I expect to be thankful for. I loved my old Viking 1100, and I expect I'll love this one. In many ways, my Bernina 153 has been a very good machine, but finally, I couldn't see living with its limitations when I had such an attractive alternative. 

If I allowed myself, I'm sure I could become a sewing machine collector. I'm not yet able to part with the Bernina, plus I have an old Bernette serger that I never use but am reluctant to sell or give away. And then, there's my 1953 Singer. Therein lies a story.

A couple of years ago, I was on my way home, driving through an old residential section, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw what registered as possibly a sewing machine. A quick double take confirmed it. So I went around the block for a closer look. It was garbage pickup day, and someone had dragged an old Singer in a decrepit sewing table out to the curb for collection. Yikes! It was in good shape! No rust, no dents, the wheel and the rest of the mechanism turned smoothly. And someone was sending it to the dump? Well, I certainly couldn't leave it there. 

If you've ever had one of these machines, you know how heavy they are. Add the sewing table, and, well, I tried valiantly to leverage it into my trunk, but no go. Then, out of the blue (in a very quiet neighborhood with absolutely no other traffic) a thirty-ish guy drove up and asked if I needed some help. Yes! Thanks to him, a few minutes later I was home convincing my husband that this little machine was indeed a real find. We unattached it from the table, and I carted it off to my sewing machine repairer, who charged $200 to replace a couple of small parts and get it into sewing shape. 

It took a lot of poking around on the Internet, but I finally tracked down that it was made in St. John's, Canada, in 1953. That's also the year I was born. I'm not a particular believer in fate, or even that things happen for a reason, but I can't help but feel that, somehow, the Universe conspired to bring us together.