Lacking domestic skills

Over here on the East Side of Madison, there’s a certain aesthetic to modern parenting. Organic garden! Chickens in the backyard! Farmers’ market on weekends! Bake your own bread/brew your own beer/make your own yogurt/pickle everything! Happy to report (or maybe sad to say), we have consistently nailed it in almost every category.

But…I have never really learned to sew.

F. is actually pretty good with a needle and thread; she has her own sewing machine, and is unafraid to wield it in the service of stuffed animal construction or Hallowe’en costume alteration. I have clearly been busy with other things. So, some kind of horrible karma is afoot, that I now need to pump out some boat-related sewing projects on this beast:

This is an industrial Sailrite sewing machine, belonging to my sister-in-law, who uses it for leather work. Yeah, it can sew through leather. It can (and will) sew through your hand. I have some serious qualms about learning to harness this thing, but….needs must.

Here’s the thing I find encouraging. I have an old boyfriend who wanted to be a sailmaker. At one point in our history, he found himself in a position of maybe being hired by a loft in St. Thomas. It was a pretty short interview, mainly focused on making sure he actually knew how to sail, and hey, can you sew? His response: Yes! Absolutely! I am a person who can sew! Reality: he had never really sewed anything in his life. He knew a lot about sails, and he really wanted the job, so he just went for it, and attacked some poor sailor’s genoa with the machine they called “Jaws.” For the most part, it worked out ok.

So I’ve got this.

Right?