One of my goals for this year is to develop some skill at clothing construction. I also gave #2 daughter a sewing machine for Christmas, and some books on the subject to help her get started with it.

The local fabric store is offering a beginning sewing class, but I don't think I can really call myself a beginner. I made a wedding dress, after all. And #2 daughter and I together made the bridesmaid's dress, so she probably can't be a beginner either. She's very good at putting in zippers, and both of us have made a number of successful garments. I make really nice quilts, if I do say so myself (that's another of my goals for this year -- to get my most recent quilt quilted, since it has been sitting around for a year waiting).

But it is easy for the self-taught to get stuck at a certain level of skill, with a lot of things that we have missed along the way. With language learners, we call this the "sojourner" stage. You learn as much as you need for the tasks you regularly do, and quit improving. People stay at this stage for many years.

We see this in the knitting blogs with people who knit successful scarves but never get the hang of shaping, so sweaters remain out of the question. Computer use is like this for a lot of us -- we have no trouble using email and blogging and finding our way around the web, but if a new issue arises, we have to call our kids.

And the local shop has nothing in its class schedule called "Adding the Third Dimension to Your Sewing" or "Overcoming Fear of Buttonholes and Set-in Sleeves."

So I have spent some time perusing sewing books.

One of the things that leaps to the eye is the enormous similarity among them. The main sewing reference book I have used all these years is The Complete Book of Sewing, by Constance Talbot, published in 1943. If you do not have a space-age sewing machine, then you will find that the new Vogue sewing book is very much the same as Talbot's.

This ought to be reassuring, though of course I was hoping for some magic solution to my clothing construction ills. The moral is, pick the basic sewing book with the pictures you like best.

But there are some new and different things out there in sewing books.

I ended up getting two for #2 daughter.

Sew U, by Wendy Mullin, has basic directions for using your sewing machine, cutting and storing patterns, etc. It has basic directions for constructing skirts, pants, and shirts -- and it has full-size patterns for all three included. This is Wendy Mullin of Built by Wendy, so we are talking about having all you need only if you are young, hip, and slim, but if that is you, then this book will set you up. It includes lots of suggestions for changing the basic patterns around to make new and individual garments, and has handy reproducible pages for planning and recording your sewing adventures.

In Stitches, by Amy Butler, complements Sew U by packing home furnishing and accessory patterns into a really pretty coffee table sort of book. Amy Butler is perhaps best known as a handbag designer, and this book includes beautifully-designed bags, but it also has duvet covers and cat tunnels and aprons and stuff. The book is divided up by room, and the bathroom section even includes a kimono and pajama pants.

If you like the idea of books with patterns in them, but don't want things that trendy, you might check your library for a couple of old books the folks at Frugalreader hooked me up with. Dressmaking with Liberty, by Ann Ladbury, has absolute classic shirt, skirt, and trousers patterns, as well as some other little surprises, including a stuffed rabbit. Making a Complete Wardrobe from 4 Basic Patterns  was published in 1987 and looks it, but it explains how to draft your own patterns just the way you like them, in any size. Its four basic patterns are drawstring pants, a drop-sleeve pullover, a circle skirt, and an A-line skirt, with lots of ideas for variations. This could make a good weekend or gym wardrobe, or a starting point for the budding clothing designer. I don't think either of these books is still in print.

The book I have found most useful so far for my own sewing needs is Easy, Easier, Easiest Tailoring by Patti Palmer and Susan Pletsch. It explains in excruciating detail how to set in a sleeve, and gives several methods (the easy method, the easier method, and the easiest one) for each step in putting together a jacket, skirt, or blouse (they do a separate book for pants). It tells how to choose a pattern according to your skill level, how to fit the clothing, how to press it -- all that stuff. It doesn't tell you how to thread your machine or any of those basics, but if you have adequate sewing skills and need help with the Hard Stuff, this is a very handy book.

Perhaps with these books and sufficient diligence, I will be able to finish the year a skilled dressmaker.

I do not intend to follow the custom of the sewing blogs and call myself a sewer. I assume they intend that to sound like "sower," but to me, it is still a waste disposal term.

If you have other suggestions, I'd love to hear about them.

  While I had a mostly lazy day yesterday, I accomplished a few things.

I sewed up this burgundy gored skirt.

When I got to this point, I decided that the zipper was the wrong color, and that I would have to wait to get a new zipper. So it still needs zipper, waistband, and hem.

This is Italian wool gabardine, a fabric as soft and light and drapey as rayon challis, but with the many advantages of being wool. I love this stuff, and you can get it cheaply online.

I also began the process of turning this felted sweater into a bag. The sweater had moth holes, so I felted it severely, as you can see in this picture. I was intending to make it into a bag according to the simple instructions that were in every magazine last fall -- sew up the bottom, cut straps over the shoulders, done before dinner.

The recycling aspect of the thing appeals to me, and the felted lambswool feels wonderful.

But I don't actually like to carry that tote-bag shape, and if I did like it, I have a bunch of them that I could carry. I have been putting the project off ever since the fall, because of this juxtaposition of appealing concept and unappealing likely product.

So I turned to McCall's 5198, a set of hobo bags.

This is the outside layer. Since the pattern was not intended for felted sweaters, I cut and sewed up the basic framework to see how it would work.

It seems enormous.

Still, having ascertained that it could be done, I went ahead and cut the lining and began sewing in  the buckram and stuff.

The wool is too thick for my sewing machine, so I am doing it by hand. It is almost too thick for that, too. I am using a huge needle and having to take one stitch at a time. It may take me quite a while to complete.

I am ignoring the instructions for the bag entirely. I am going to leave it open at the top instead of putting in a zipper, and do a button flap, and rather than interface the whole thing I am putting buckram into the gusset to give it a bit of a spine. The strap is in one piece with the gusset and will be narrower than the pattern calls for -- I haven't quite decided on the details of that strap's construction. I am essentially just using the pattern for the shape.

If I like this one, I may make one according to the directions some day.

I also got the body of Pipes completed.

Here you see it liberally frosted with dog hair.

Most things in our house have a little dusting of dog hair, but this yarn -- Knitpicks Telemark in Deep Navy -- seems to draw all the dog hair to it.

There is also the fact that the boys have been allowing the animals to sit on the furniture all through the vacation. They will have to be completely retrained. However, the boys will see the error of their ways next week when they get ready for school and find themselves covered with dog hair.

Still, the sweater is coming out nicely. The ribbing will make it shapely without detracting from the traditional look.

Next time I do a sweater like this, I may begin the ribbing earlier in the center, making a triangular panel of ribbing in the front.

My husband went back to work today, and of course I will also do so. The boys have another week to fritter away in playing video games.

Happy New Year!

When I strolled into the choir room yesterday -- and I did stroll. I am not much of a stroller normally, more of a strider. My sons always complain about how fast I walk. But I was wearing heels yesterday. The girls in my senior high Sunday School class told me they loved my shoes, but I find that I have to walk more like a giraffe or something than at my usual pace.

So when I strolled in, I found that the entire collection of people in the room was me, one bass, the director, and The Baritone. The director, himself a tenor, headed out to try to scare up some sopranos someplace.

We had been planning a stirring gospel rendition of "Go Tell it on the Mountain," with a soprano solo. The soloist, said the bass, was in Arizona.

"Shall we rearrange this?" I asked, "Or should we just do something different?"

We decided to do something different. A second soprano arrived -- The Chemist -- and began pawing through the drawers of music. By the time she started passing out copies of "Still, Still, Still," we had at least one representative of each part. That soprano has probably never been greeted with as much fervor as she got that day.

The soloist for "Go Tell it On the Mountain" bustled in clutching her music at five minutes of eleven -- eleven being the starting time for the service.

We had a replacement organist, an old friend of mine.

An old friend only in the sense that I have known him for years and sung with him in a choir or two. He is actually quite young -- young enough, indeed, that The Baritone said "You should introduce him to your daughter." Of course, they know one another. We live in a small town, and the classical music scene is not that heavily populated. We all know one another. My fellow choir members find it odd that I know all the visiting musicians.

"Were your kids in school with him?" the Chemist asked. This is the kind of explanation that usually occurs to them. Sometimes it's "Did your kids go to school together?"

"No," I always have to say, "I just know him from music."

The organist and I had a good discussion of various directors' and singers' plans for the spring. He was off to Italy on a choir tour, himself.

"What do you think of The Canadian Director?" the organist asked me.
"I worked with him in the Master Chorale. He's great."
"I hear that he does all this contemporary music," he said austerely. "I hear that Fine Soprano is thinking of leaving his choir."
"Hmm," I said. "I just saw her last week. She didn't say anything about it."

Of course, Fine Soprano and I had been talking about our kids the whole time on that occasion.

"I'll ask La Bella," I said. We moved on to other members of our set. The organist was thinking of rejoining the Chamber Singers in the spring, but he had heard that the repertoire was to be all German.

"Bach is nice," I suggested.
"Yes, but I don't want to get stuck on German."

The young can be very strict.

I did, following the recommendation of The Baritone, call up #2 daughter and tell her that the organist had filled out a bit and was looking very cute. He is a year or so younger than she is, but I appreciate the fact that the church members are looking out for her. Between this church and the church where she works, we can probably find her a Nice Young Man and save her from meeting guys on the way to the ladies' room in bars.

In the afternoon, we brought out the cookies #2 daughter made and a pot of tea, and I had an almost entirely lazy afternoon. I tidied a bit, but mostly it was reading and knitting and enjoying the rainy afternoon. My husband watched football. My sons played a game with some surprising characteristics.

"How many geologists have you got?" one said to the other at one point.

Video games rarely include geologists. Berserkers, sure, paladins, 6th level mages. But geologists?

Today I plan to finish up the HGP with the New Year's Day custom known as "the clearing." You go through your house with pencil and paper and list all the things you want to fix during the year. This includes mending the wallpaper and replacing the blinds, but it is also a chance to notice if work has spread throughout the house and taken over your private life, or if you have dozens of UFOs and no FOs. You look at your house as though it were the setting for a play and see what the set designer would be telling you about the person who lived there. This allows you to finish up your resolutions or goals.

Apart from that, I hope to do some sewing, and otherwise plan on complete laziness.