I recieved the last of the postcards from the sawp Nichola organized. I was amazed at all the delicate stitchery---all but two had some form of sewing. It's easy to impress me with sewing. I have hilarious memories of learning to use a sewing machine in seventh grade. Our project was to make a nightgown. My best friend, whose mother makes dolls for a living, sewed the most exquisite nightgown imaginable. Little Peter Rabbit buttons, pleats, even hems. I made mine by laying out two layers of fabric and cutting out a shape that roughly resembled a gingerbread girl, and then sewing up the sides. My hems went haywire. My final project, a hideous costume that I tried to revive with too many buttons. I also remember talking the entire class, and sassing the teacher who I was sure didn't like me. She called me a bitch to my face and sent me out. I told the principal. I've never touched a sewing machine since.
From Nichola, in Australia.
From Suzy, in Japan.
From Shelly, in Australia.
From Natalie (who is 11 and doesn't have a blog), in England.
From Sarah, in Australia.
From Robyn, in Tulsa.