Squiddle and Jazzy continue sick. In a particularly snotty way, eww. And Wonderful Husband and myself have, of course, caught it too, if to a lesser degree. Ugh. Maybe it's a good thing that we're not going to SDCC this weekend? On the other hand, this is my prep time for Costume College, so it's not great on that front either.

BUT. I've got everything done for the 1950s Petticoat workshop. Well, 90% done. I have it all stuffed into a bin, the lid taped on so Jazzy can't pull it out and the "take these too on the day of" list taped to the lid.

And I just spent the last two hours on either side of dinner (tri-tip roast with sweet corn, baked potatoes or buttered homemade bread, thank you very much, because sometimes even on sick days I can knock it out of the park) servicing the 1924 Singer 99 in a bentwood case that I picked up from Goodwill this week. It cost me $12.24, and I figure it will likely go for more than that in the Bargain Basement auction. Since I'm not throwing anything else into the charity pot this year, I figure that's good for my contribution, and the machine will get rehomed to someone who appreciates it. I cleaned and oiled it, refilled the grease tubes for the motor, glued one of the wood supports back in place, replaced the bobbin case felt, gave it a new spool felt, fixed the tension, and repaired the cracked wiring. It's still not whisper-quiet, but it runs smoothly now and sews a nice seam.

When I step back from my "any trained monkey could do what I can" mentality, I sometimes feel a bit like Han Solo: "Sometimes I impress even myself." And I think indulging in a little of that feeling is good from time to time. Otherwise you get worn down. But at the same time, a little goes a long way, and there is a hell of a lot I do not know about vintage sewing machine repair.

The bobbin case for the 15 came today in the mail. I dug out some appropriate bobbins and got it set up. Screwed in the seam guide with a little difficulty. Guess the screw hole for that is a little gunked up? But it works. Plugged in the machine. Set the feed dogs back to forward motion. With some trepidation, put fabric under the foot and pressed the knee lever.

The machine's stitches are a freaking dream. OMG so gorgeous!

It runs a touch louder than I'd like, but I think that's partly the nature of the beast, and partly starting to work itself out.

Verdict: good buy.

Tonight is my quilt guild meeting, so between that and the new machine, I'm pumped up. I'm torn between my next project being piecing new blocks, piecing a new top from blocks I've already done, or quilting something I've already finished. I should probably do the last one, because that at least clears out space on my shelves....

Today has been a day of ick and crud, starting with a couple hours of insomnia at 4am. Yet somehow, paradoxically, today has also been a day of getting stuff done.

Part of this was facilitated by not going to Squiddle's Thursday morning class. I didn't want to pass on whatever I have to twenty toddlers. Instead, we stayed home and made jam. On Monday, we'd gone to the Garden Grove Strawberry Festival (basically like a mini county fair, complete with fried everything) and I'd picked up an entire flat (12 baskets) of strawberries for $26. Today, a third of that flat was transformed into four and a half jars of strawberry-honey jam flavored with thyme.

This afternoon, Squiddle and I went down to my parents' place (they have fully developed adult immune systems; I'm as leery of getting them sick) where I oiled my mother's Singer 127 treadle and installed the new belt I'd ordered. She moves nice and sweet now. I've recently sold my Singer 15 treadle onward, for reasons of (1) toddler, (2) space, and (3) lacking the skills to re-veneer the cabinet. Given Squiddle's fingers heading toward the flywheel as I was working the oil into the 127, I think that was the right decision. I can have a treadle again in seven years or so....

I also took a fifteen-minute soak in my parents' new hot tub, which banished the achiness for a while.

But for now, dishes are washed, sewing is at a stopping point, and bed is calling my name.

Wonderful Husband, the Squiddle, and I went to Downtown Disney today and got a Toothless from Build-A-Bear. Really, how wonderful is it that we can get these kind of things and pretend they're for the baby when, really, they're not? :) Shopping followed by lunch at the House of Blues and beignets at the Jazz Kitchen.

I've had a pedometer for a month or two now. You're supposed to, I believe, walk ten thousand steps a day. Most days I don't. Yesterday I did, and regretted it. But I'm slowly stretching my calves looser so the muscles in my left foot don't get irritated by the bone spurs as badly. Today I'm a bit over 6K steps so far.

Part of the reason for the sufficient walking yesterday is a current project. I went to Lowe's to get supplies. Last weekend, estate sale'ing with my mother, I spotted a slightly beat up card table. Except it wasn't a card table, it was a sewing table for the Singer 221 Featherweight. Even in beat-up form, they go for a hundred dollars. Minimum. The estate sale asked me for eight. It went home with me. Except, I don't have a 221. I wouldn't mind one, but honestly, if I'm going to add to the Singer sewing machine herd, I want an electric 127 or 128. I have a handcrank one which is purely gorgeous, but winding the bobbins on it is tedious. So I'm sanding and refinishing the table in order to sell it onward. Not sure if I'm going to put it on eBay or Craigslist. We'll see when I'm done. And if I do a good enough job on it, I'm going to apply the skills learned to refinishing the dining room table. Which also needs it.

And, book review:

Title: Unnatural Issue
Author: Mercedes Lackey
Length: 361 pages

( Review )

Last night, I jetted out of work and took Lilo-2 the sewing machine to the sewing machine repair shop. Got there about ten minutes before closing.

Gentleman behind the counter: You should trade this in and get a good machine.

Me: You guys SOLD me this machine.

I know he was just being a salesman, but still. Not couth.

Yay, the 101 works! Idiot me had the needle inserted ninety degrees wrong.

Edited another ten pages for classmates. Stopping at page 276/617, and 124,534 words. Finally in dragon country! And a scene setting based on my two visits to the Golden Pavilion in Kyoto.

Watered the potted plants tonight. Discovered that placing the heavy potting bench in front of the broken gate and putting a potted rosebush in the gap on one side and a tomato in its cage on the other still isn't stopping neighborhood kids from worming their way through and using our yard as a thoroughfare to the park behind us. There's a footprint in the mulch and the cage is bent, support pole knocked astray.

Fortunately, I have a plan. We can't replace the gate yet - the post it hangs from is part of a going-to-come-down-in-the-first-good-quake cinderblock wall between us and the neighbors - but I can sure as hell shut it permanently. I have zipties.

For now, though, I go poke at the Singer 101 and see how difficult it will be to get it working.

I was going to work more on the green petticoat tonight. Finish the gathering stitches, at least, and start pinning.

Except, though the 401 will stitch... the presser foot bar will not lower. ^_^;; Kind of missed checking that last night. So I have oiled everywhere that it might be sticking, and gently tapped it a few times with a hammer. Tomorrow I'll pull the hairdryer off the workbench in the garage (yes, the hairdryer lives in the garage; this is because the only thing it gets used for is fixing sewing machines) and see if heating things yields any results. I've had to do this before, with the 15, and it's just a matter of time and patience. Despite it being metal and me being flesh, it will yield to my will. Eventually.

Possibly just as well; I'm suspecting the tension mechanism will also need some TLC.

Found flashlight. Charged battery. Drilled placement holes. Swapped pedal brackets and knee levers. Took cabinet and other donation things to Goodwill. Returned truck to parents, along with the barrelful of compost and a half flat of seedlings (melons, cukes, tomatoes, calendula, zinnias). Stopped for lunch, did grocery shopping, came home, napped. Got up and found I had a metric ton of class 66 bobbins; parcelled a couple dozen out for my mother, since the brand-new bobbins that said they would fit her machine (a 201) apparently don't. Checked to see which bobbins my own machines need. The treadle and the Babylock use class 15s. The 128 handcrank uses long shuttle bobbins. The others (101, 401, and the 66 that's disassembled on the garage workbench) all take 66s.

No gardening at all this weekend. I am most put out.

Went over to my parents' after work. Inquired about the sewing machine. Was told (and show) that it now works freely, with nothing being done to it beyond my attempts last night. Apparently my miraculous powers of sewing machine faith healing just needed time to work on it?

"Begone, foul demons that clog this Singer!"

(For the record, all I did was take out the manual, oil it at all the points the manual indicated oiling, and hold a hairdryer to various bits for a short while.)