life through the eye of my sewing needle and very little, to be honest, about sewers

Friday, August 12, 2011

Ripping seams and's only an OPTION, like a sunroof

There are plenty of men associated with the invention of the sewing machine: Thomas Saint, Josef Madersperger, Barthelemy Thimonnier,  Elias Howe, Isaac Singer. It's like every country wanted to have a piece of that. Anybody want to take a stab at guessing who wants the credit for inventing the seam ripper?
Right. Nobody. The best it can be narrowed down is maybe one of the Duponts or somebody who worked at Dupont or somebody who knew somebody who interviewed at Dupont but, trust me, there's no bronze statue of Aloyisius Seam holding that thing in the corporate lobby.

Because it is an instrument of defeat.
Avoid it and you are creating something different, going it your way, engaging in spontaneous sewing.
Pick it up and you are shouting it out, 'I  screwed up." And from there it's  like a ride down a waxed thread.

Pick--crap--pick pick--I really hate this project plus I'm a jerk. Pick--OUCH--pick. I need to wash my face/take a nap/move to another city. Pick, pick tearrrrr! Hole! Worse!

Oh, blue handled scepter of feebleness.

There's a time to reap and a time to reap-rip. (Was that Scooby-Doo?) But, in my opinion, there's a lot of people who could just keep forging ahead like I do. Sewing. Sewing on top of the sewing. Tucking some wild-ass piece in and sewing over that to keep it from jutting out in that peculiar way. Next time you realize you have inches and inches of errant sewing you can reach for the ripper or you can reach for something that tastes good, but will likely leave some kind of residue on your fabric.

I'm shrugging because the choice seems obvious to me.
The Sloppy Sewer

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