|Z and her new doll on Christmas, with polka dots in abundance.|
|Z and her doll "Howie Bowie Wowie" out for a winter's stroll in matching duds|
|Christmas outfit designed and sewn by my mom: the girl version|
|And the doll version...|
She's also been sewing matching outfits for Z and her 3-month baby cousin, R:
My own sewing mojo is not so strong at the moment, however...
|Goofy and overly confident late-night sewing selfie, right before sewing machine disaster struck|
And then this happened. Whatever "this" is:
And it's probably still sitting inside my sewing machine cabinet that way.
And then I got the carpal tunnel. And then after I recovered from that, a newfound food-allergy-free baking and cooking obsession.
I know nobody wants to read posts in which people apologize for not sewing or not blogging, but that's not really my point. My point is: why am I always so scared of my sewing machine? I'm sure it's probably 10 minutes of me tinkering to figure out the issue. Or if necessary, a trip to the shop. But somehow that tiny hurdle seems insurmountably annoying, so much more so than, say, making my own fruit leather from scratch.
Knitting is not so daunting, equipment-wise—in addition to those chartreuse Knotty gloves I mentioned before, I'm finally back to putting the finishing touches on my Delancey cardigan—just have to do the edges, button bands and shawl collar!