… is hard, yo! Actually, it’s not so hard once you get the hang of it. The hardest part is measuring the bag without stretching it. Anyway, here is my newly lined purse:
And here is the lining:
And now it’s in the shop waiting for its new owner.
So lately I’ve been ripping seams. It is so frustrating. It’s not like frogging a crochet project, where you just pull and pull. Sure, you occasionally get your yarn tangled up but it’s nothing compared to ripping those darn seams. Especially if you’ve made some backstitches.
Some time ago, during a crocheting frenzy, I made some purses. I wasn’t very good at sewing (I’m still not great at it), so they sat there unlined for a while. One day I decided any lining was better than none and I searched online for tutorials. Everything was going fine, I even learned how to box the corners.
The problem was trying to attach the lining to the purse. I sewed it on by hand; it was not pretty. Still, I finished and every crocheted purse was lined at last. I was triumphant, I thought.
Four years later and the purses haven’t seen the light of day; the lining is just so bad. So here I am, removing the poorly sewn linings. I had to buy a better seam ripper to do the job properly. Actually, any ripper would be better than the one I was using. You can see the horribleness below:
I promise to do a better job this time.
Once upon a time, I learned to crochet.
Let me back up a little. First I tried to teach myself to knit. I bought a little kit but I got frustrated and quickly put the needles away. Time passed and I discovered another way to make yarny goodies. It was crochet. So I bought myself some hooks and a book and again became quite frustrated. See, I like to learn things on my own, without having to actually communicate with someone else. However, I knew that if I really wanted to be able to make yummy scarves and blankets I was going to have to ask for help.
So, as it turned out, I had a friend who knit and knew a little crochet. She insisted I learn to knit because it was easier, but I was having none of it; I wanted to crochet! So she sat me down and taught me what she knew, or what she remembered because, as I later learned, some of the terms weren’t right and I apparently hold the hook incorrectly. Still, I left that night with a very ugly granny square and a smile on my face, excited about the possibilities that lay ahead of me. The yarn was my oyster, or something like that.
There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.