A Quick & Easy Sewing Machine Cover

My mom has decided to convert her second bedroom into a sewing and craft room so that she can leave her sewing machine set up all the time. 

  When I visited yesterday, I noticed her new sewing machine cover. It isn't pretty, but it keeps her Singer 500 dust free.

She made it by cutting across a tee shirt just under the sleeves and then sewing the cut edges shut. That's just one seam since the body of the shirt is a tube and there's already a hem on the bottom. Of course, that mostly cuts off any cute logo the shirt might have had since those are usually positioned on the upper chest.

I suppose you could preserve the logo by making your cut just under the neck. But then you'd have to cut down the sides in order to make a symmetrical shape. And you'd have to cut off some of the bottom because it would now be too long. And then you'd have to hem it. Too much work!

I have some pre-quilted fabric which I bought a couple of years ago in order to make a cover for my Bernina. It's still sitting in my closet because I'd much rather be quilting than sewing a machine cover. But I think even I could spare the time to make one of these.

 

Actually, my mom didn't spend any time at all making hers because it's a repurposed icon cover. She makes these tee shirt bags to protect her icons when she's transporting them to and from her painting class. (An icon is a religious picture painted on a wooden board.) The one in the photo, Our Lady of Sorrows, is still in progress. If you're interested, here's a link to Sacred Image Icons, the website of her teacher. (Warning: it plays music.)

Featherweight Memories

I love getting packages in the mail -- especially when the contents are quilt related!

Fillius Major (my oldest son) sent me a box of shirts he was weeding out of his wardrobe. He and his family are moving from Texas to Ohio for a new job. But in the midst of packing, preparing his house for sale, and getting ready to fly with five children, a wife, and two cats, he thought of his Aged Parent and her Make-a-Quilt-From-Seven Shirts project.

Fillius Major has always been a good quilter's son. When he was still a teen, he helped me find a Singer Featherweight. The whole family was in the car at the time, my husband at the wheel. I was slumped in the front seat, and though I can't remember the circumstances, I do recall that I was in a black mood.

"Uh, Mom . . ." Fillius M.'s voice broke through my emotional fog. "Do you still want one of those little black sewing machines?"

"Why?"

"That yard sale we just passed -- they had one." Yard sale? I'd been so sunk in gloom I hadn't even noticed it!

Without a word, my Excellent Husband executed a masterful U-turn, and we were back at the yard sale while I was still trying to collect my wits. And there it was: a Singer 221, a.k.a. The Perfect Portable. It had no carrying case or attachments, and the bobbin case was missing. But the foot pedal was still attached. The machine appeared to have been much used, but not abused.

Hesitantly, I approached the woman who appeared to be in charge of the sale. She looked like a burnt-out refugee from a hippie commune and spoke in a vague, disjointed manner. The Featherweight, she said, had belonged to an elderly relative. It was obvious that her descendant didn't know much about sewing machines. When I pointed out that the bobbin case was missing, she helpfully went indoors and brought out another one from a different brand of machine. Since she seemed determined to shove it in somehow, despite her lack of hand-eye coordination, I waved her away and offered to buy the machine "as is," hoping that she wouldn't ask more than I could afford.

She was firm about the price: $25.00.

I paid it gladly, even though I could not be sure that the little guy would even work when it was plugged in. Then I hustled my new baby into the car before she could change her mind.

My spirits were high as my husband deftly wove his way back into the late afternoon traffic. Thanks to the Internet, I was able to replace the missing bobbin case (though it cost me more than the machine itself). And the local quilt store was able to direct me to a good sewing machine tech who specialized in old Singers. Eventually, I even bought a stitch plate with seam markings to replace the unmarked original.

In a way, I guess that Fillius Major was my Featherweight's godparent. Perhaps, in his honor, I should stitch the Seven-Shirts-Quilt on the Featherweight.

Bernina Woe!

I was zipping through the Bricks & Stepping Stones quilt when I noticed something odd: the straight stitch on my Bernina 1530 had metamorphosed. It was still a straight stitch, but instead of the usual 12 stitches per inch, it was churning out about 24!

When I tested the other stitches, the machine behaved very erratically. Sometimes they were sewn out properly. Other times the machine attempted to sew them backwards. And frequently it stitches nothing but gibberish. Since it's a computerized machine, I assume it's a problem with the board. Woe!

When my beloved 1090 suffered a disaster two years ago, I could not afford to get it fixed. Now that the 1530 has Alzheimer's (which is sure to be a pricey repair), I've fallen back on the 1130 which my sister gave me when she was cleaning out her garage. I'm scheduled to take a class in heirloom sewing techniques this Friday, so I've been trying to familiarize myself with the 1130 and making sure that all the stitches work properly.

Unfortunately, the guide lines on the stitch plate seem to be metric so I can't get an accurate 1/4" seam.* Though I've discovered that by adjusting the needle position one click to the left, I can approximate a 5/8" seam. I called in an order for an American stitch plate (relatively inexpensive), but until it's delivered I'll have to content myself with garment sewing.

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*Yes, I do have a #37 foot, but I get better results by using the guidelines on the stitch plate.

Vintage Sewing Machines and Buttonholes

Susan at Spare Time has been writing a series of posts about Using a Vintage Sewing Machine. Currently she's demonstrating the various specialty feet. But if you keep clicking on "Show Older Posts" you'll eventually get back to the first one, Preparing where she outlines what she'll be covering.

Although I love my two, lightly-computerized Berninas, I learned to sew on older mechanicals. My mom had a Singer 500, a.k.a the Rocketeer. And the sewing machines we had in my junior high home-ec class were old Singers very much like the one Susan is writing about. (Her descriptions of needles, threading, and tension on her 15-91 triggered a lot of forgotten memories!)

I own three vintage sewing machines right now. The first is a Singer 401A. I bought it on e-Bay because it looked so much like my mom's 501. It has cams for making special stitches and I managed to find a box of attachments. I also have a buttonholer for this machine, though I have to admit that I haven't tried using it yet. It comes in a pink plastic box shaped like a football.

I also have two Featherweights:* one which I inherited from my mother-in-law, and one which I discovered at a yardsale. I've got a box of attachments for both of them, including a buttonholer. I haven't yet tried out the buttonholers for any of these machines, but Susan has just posted a detailed (and well illustrated) tutorial that will finally will finally give me the courage to attempt it. Even if you don't own one of these, check it out. It's fascinating!

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*Um, not a picture of one of my own machines, just a link to show you what a Featherweight looks like.

Tra La!

I think that St. Anne is supposed to be the patron saint of seamstresses. If so, I owe her one. For today I was in the depths of despair and now, to quote Scrooge, "I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy, I am as giddy as a drunken man."

I did hardly any sewing last month so the Bricks & Cornerstones quilt, which was to be completed in May, is nowhere near done. But a few days ago I began sewing again hoping to at least finish all the blocks before packing up my machine for the next five to eight weeks. (I'm having foot surgery this Wednesday.) I was joining my matchstick units last night and finished about half before going to bed. This morning, after family duties were out of the way, I sat down to do the rest.

I hurriedly began stitching and then, noticing that I hadn't engaged the needle down function. I clicked on what I thought was the right button. Oops! The machine was now stitching backwards. Hastily, I cancelled the reverse function and jabbed on what I thought was the needle down button. Wrong again. The machine was now sewing a basting stitch which means that the needle only goes down to pierce the fabric every three or four stitches. Dang! I hastily canceled the the basting stitch and then found that the needle was now stuck in the up position. No matter what stitch I selected, the needle would not go down. And then it struck me -- I had been cursed by the Basting Stitch of Doom!

I don't know if the current Berninas have this quirk, but both my 1090 and my 1530 suffer from it. They have a lovely basting stitch, but if you don't use it regularly the needle will freeze in the up position. So it behooves you to do some basting at least once a month. That's easy for a garment sewer. But I'm primarily a quilter, so this preventive maintenance is all too easy to forget.

The last time this happened to me, I lived near an excellent Bernina technician who showed me a little trick for unsticking it. Unfortunately, I had forgotten it. All I could remember was that the tech's tip had something to do with gently pressing the needle clamp. Research on the Web turned up nothing except for the suggestion to run the machine for a while without a needle or thread -- which didn't work.

I am not the sort of person who enjoys experimentation. I want the security of detailed instructions that will tell me the Absolutely Right Way to do things. But finally, I screwed up my courage and began cautiously pressing different parts of the needle clamp.

Reader, it worked! (I will tell you what I did, but I must caution you that if you follow these directions, you do so at your own risk. I accept no responsibility for what might happen to anyone else's machine.)

Okay. You know that little screw that you must turn when you are changing a needle? (It's at the end of a little bar.) Place your finger on top of the bar and very gently press down. The needle assembly will lower very slightly. Have your machine set for a basting stitch and run the machine at a slow speed. The needle may or may not go down into a normal stitch. Stop and gently press the needle bar down again and then attempt to stitch. Repeat as needed. Eventually the needle will go down on its own. Remember, it's set for a basting stitch so it's only supposed to go down every fourth stitch. If it only goes down once and then gets stuck again, stop the machine, gently press the bar down, and then continue to stitch. After a while I switched to a regular straight stitch and found that the machine was sewing normally.

Hooray! I'm going to finish my blocks and any other stitching I need to do before Wednesday. Then I'll take the risk of trying the basting stitch again. Then I'll pack up the machine and put it away until I'm able to set foot to the floor again. (And I must kit up some hand sewing projects to work on during my convalescence.)

Tension Update

Well, after a thorough cleaning and a good deal of experimenting with the thread tension knob, I'm getting a better (though not yet perfect) stitch and almost no curving of my strips.

I was checking Harriet Hargrave's book, Heirloom Machine Quilting (4th edition), to remind myself whether knots on the bottom meant I needed to tighten or loosen my thread tension. It turns out that the little thread dots on the bottom mean either that the top tension is too loose or that the bobbin tension is too tight. So how are you supposed to know which to adjust?

Fortunately, on page 37, she includes a sewing machine mechanic's tip for testing tension when sewing regular seams. If you don't have her book, I found similar information in this online article about adjusting sewing machine tension. So I am happily sewing again.

Disaster Strikes!

See my lovely sewing machine pictured in the sidebar? It's a Bernina 1090S. It is among that class of machines that quilters are fond of calling "a real workhorse." Last night I was sewing merrily along, just finishing up the last few blocks of Step 1, when the telephone rang. I leapt to my feet and started across the room to the kitchen. But before I got very far, I felt a jerrk, heard a thud behind me, and turned to find my cherished Bernina sprawled on the floor! Somehow or other the cord must have gotten caught around my leg. Berninas are heavy machines. It made several dents in my hardwood floor. Thank goodness it didn't fall on my foot!

I was so stunned that I felt no emotion at all. I lifted the 1090 back onto the table. I turned off the power switch and removed the knee lift which was now badly bent. The knob which lowers the feed dogs was loose. When I tried to turn the handwheel, the needle got stuck and would not come back up. So something inside may be off kilter.

The next morning I took my beloved Bernina to the local dealer. (I've just recently moved to this city so I can't even take my poor baby to her regular tech guy!) They estimate that repairs will cost at least $400, possibly more. If it can be repaired at all -- the extent of the damage is still uncertain.

I'll still be able to finish the Bonnie's mystery quilt; I do have other sewing machines. But the 1o90 and I had bonded. She is my first love, and I just didn't have the heart to set up the other machine today.