proverbs 19:11

"A man's wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense."

 

Working on this. Well, apparently God is working on this in my heart.

on the sewing rebound (and hoping this latest love will last forever)

I should probably be working but I was just catching up on some of my blog reading and decided it was time for an update of my own.

 

Lately my life has been a bit consumed with sewing. At a friend's invitation, I decided to "go public" with my pillow-embroidery skills and do a couple of craft shows to see if my wares would sell. So far, the shows themselves have not been too profitable, but the effort I put into organizing an order-taking system for the pillows has been. So, while the majority of my paying customers are still friends, and while I still have several gift pillows to make right now (Christmas is coming, you know) in the midst of all the paying orders, I feel rejuvenated and encouraged about how this little "business" is going (in quotes because...well...don't tell the IRS).

 

However, in the midst of all the excitement and busyness, I suddenly (a couple weeks ago) found myself needing a new sewing machine. The one I'd been using was only three years old, and the time I bought it I really thought I was getting a good brand that would last me for the long haul (It's a Huskystar--the more affordable line from Husqvarna/Viking--a trusted brand), it nevertheless has been jamming and skipping and behaving demonically a bit too much for my tastes lately. I think anyone who sews knows that sewing machines just act that way sometimes for no apparent reason. Usually they get over it and start working right again, but this time I'd had enough. One night, I spent hours just trying to use a zig-zag stitch to attach a "Buckeyes"-embroidered piece of fabric onto another piece of fabric (a task that should take five minutes on a good day), and by the third time I had to rip out the stitches because Husky-Beelzebub-Star insisted on eating the fleece and snapping the thread, I was done. I turned it off that night and swore that our three-year relationship of love and heartache was through. I now had actual work to do, with actual deadlines, and Husky could no longer be trusted. I needed a machine I could rely on, so it was time to get back into the sewing-machine dating game.

 

The first place I looked was JoAnn's, which is where I'd purchased my Husky, and I knew they sold quality machines there. In fact, a friend of mine had just bought a machine there a year ago and paid about the same price that I paid for Husky three years ago, and I'd been drooling over her machine ever since I first saw it. So, my point is, I had high hopes for the JoAnn's trip. I had a price in mind that I didn't want to exceed, but I thought my budget was more than reasonable, given my past experience and my friend's experience.

 

Wrong.

 

I should have known there was trouble when I was in line at the cutting counter, and my husband (yes, he came to JoAnn's with me--bless his heart) came over to me and muttered that there were sewing machines for sale that cost as much as our Corolla. (Granted, we buy used cars, and Mary Jo Corolla was 13 years old when we got her, but still) But in my heart, I was still starry-eyed and naive, picturing myself sitting in front of a lovely new machine, cranking out a perfect assembly line of pillows that would brighten the lives of children everywhere. Sure, there are Cadillac machines for sale--the ones that download embroidery patterns from the Internet and practically run themselves like a player piano--but I just wanted something simple and practical. Surely they had those for sale, too.

 

Wrong.

 

After finishing at the cutting counter and going over to browse the sewing machines, my first reaction was confusion. The cheapest machine was $330? On sale? Must be a mistake. Maybe all the cheaper machines were in another place in the store or something. So I asked the woman sitting behind a table (whom I'd assumed was an impartial JoAnn's employee but later found out was a Husqvarna/Viking dealer who works on commission) if they sold any machines within my (reasonable, I thought) price range. She actually snorted a little when she said, "OH no. They don't sell them for that low." Taken aback, I told her about the machine I'd bought there just a few years ago. And my friend's machine, just one year ago. Both around $200. As though she hadn't heard me, she repeated that the Viking brand simply did not sell machines for less than what was displayed there. At this point, I'm trying not to feel personally insulted (like I'm a big cheapo who just won't fork over the cash for a quality machine, so I clearly am in a lower caste than real sewers), and I asked her what brand, then, she would recommend for the price range I mentioned. Nose held high, she informed me that she would never recommend anything other than a Viking. (Again, this made sense later, when I found out that the sewing machine areas inside the JoAnn's stores are run by Viking dealers) Well, oooooookay then.

 

To make a long story slightly shorter, I did not end up buying a Viking. I would have liked to, but for some unknown reason, the company has apparently decided that marketing to people with realistic budgets is simply beneath them. And to be honest, I'm no longer convinced that their brand really is the best, anyway. If it were, shouldn't my trusty Husky have lasted more than three years? Anyway, I broke down and went to Sears and got a Kenmore, and so far, we are getting along swimmingly. The decision was borderline agonizing (I think I even had a nightmare about it one night)--when you sew as much as I do and really need to be able to depend on your machine not to let you down, you want a decision like this to be an informed one. And the right one. But I still, in my heart of hearts, don't think that a reliable machine with the basic functions and not a ton of bells and whistles needs to cost "one of these and one of these" (channeling the arm-and-leg chick from that one commercial). That's just a principle I believe in, but apparently Viking does not.

 

(And for the record, I pursued the Viking thing beyond the one rude saleswoman at JoAnn's. I did research on their Web site [and discovered that my friend's year-old dream machine is no longer being manufactured. WTH? Are you kidding me, Viking?], I contacted the company directly, and I also talked with another, much nicer saleswoman at that same JoAnn's. All of these avenues led me to the same conclusion--no dice, unless I got the barest of bare-bones machines [and while I'm not fancy, I'll admit that I wanted something slightly better than the absolute bottom rung of the sewing-machine ladder], which still would have cost me more than I wanted to spend.)

 

So, that's the latest drama in my life, and I'm glad it's pretty much over. (I say pretty much because my Kenmore is still within its 90-day return window, and I'm watching it very closely. We may be in a relationship now, Kenmore, but it's still early and I've got my eye on you. Don't break my heart like Husky did--I don't think I could take that again.)