Sewing a dress: watch those pocket seams!

I've been having so much fun, and the dress is coming along well--the bodice front, back, and sides are together, and the skirt is attached to the bodice.

I decided, before sewing the skirt, that I wanted on seam pockets.  My favorite skirt has these, and I wanted some just like those.  I got out my sewing book, The Complete book of sewing, and read all the directions.  I turned that favorite skirt inside out, and traced the pockets as the basis of a pattern, and carefully cut out the pieces from the scraps leftover from cutting out the dress pieces.  I followed the instructions in the book, very carefully, I thought...

Obviously, I forgot to remember to pay attention to where the seam allowances were going!

I decided not to rip them out and redo them--I'll use them as a design opportunity--possibilities I have in mind include sewing them down with a decorative stitch in a cute color, or with a cute seam binding.  I'll see what I think the rest of the dress is sewn together.

How to not put the elephant's trunk in its ear

I had been mystified; the first time I knit this elephant, as you can see, the trunk was where its left ear should be! (The little legs are supposed to open at the inseam.) I had no idea what had gone wrong, and ended up frogging the whole head and starting over. This time I paid close attention, and the elephant's nose is going to be right where it should.

In the pattern, when you put the legs on to the needles, in the section called, "Body," there's this little bit: "Join double strand of main yarn with RS facing to the beginning of one needle." I'm working on dpns, and already had the yarn attached to one of the legs, thank you very much. That's the problem! The yarn is attached where the elephant's "family jewels" would be (or "gates of Venus"--these are very private elephants, who only reveal their gender post-adoption to their new caretakers, so I have no idea what gender they will turn out to be). The yarn should be at the hip--in the middle of one of the legs.

The solution? No need to clip yarn and reattach it. When knitting the head, just knit row five 75% of the way around--stop over the right shoulder. You're all lined up for the rest of the head, and the nose will show up where it's supposed to be.

Pattern source: "Lovable toys," In: Last-minute knitted gifts / Joelle Hoverson.

Cutting the cutwork

The cutting was going so well--too well. It took a long time to feel comfortable; I had cut out about a quarter of the design before I was able to feel the scissors against the purl edge of the embroidery, and I thought I was able to feel the difference between cutting the thickness of the threads of the material versus the threads of the embroidery. I was so wrong--so overconfident! Timson is showing you just one place where this wasn't so, where I cut a bar.

So now I get to learn how to mend cutwork. For this project, I've been using Margaret Pierce's Cutwork (Heirloom Sewing v. 4) which luckily includes a paragraph called, "Repairing Bars." This gives me some comfort. Otherwise, except for the few areas where I've cut my bars (there are more!), the cutting out is going pretty well. It's going slowly but it's going--I don't find it as enjoyable as stitching. Next time I may follow some other directions I've read, to cut out certain sections ahead of time, like the small circles and the smaller areas that will be crossed by bars, and embroider them after the cutting.

My friend, Failure

Ever since Knitting Daily declared 2008 the year of fearless knitting, I've been thinking about failure. My favorite columnist, Jon Carroll, wrote a brilliant column about failure and why we need it in our lives. These thoughts weren't far from my mind when we went to see the Mythbusters, who were inspiring in their discussion of the value of failure.

When it comes to handwork, I consider failure before beginning. Especially with sewing; there is very little to salvage when the pieces are cut incorrectly. But with knitting, there are great opportunities to learn from failure. The garment can always be frogged and the yarn reused. Or, in the face of total despair, innumerable charities would welcome a durable, hand knit garment. There is nothing to lose, and so much to learn.

So why do I hesitate in the face of failure? What is there to fear? The uncertainty concerning my ability to learn. Before I embark on a project I have no fear of failure; I fear not understanding what I can learn from failure. I fear not learning from the mistakes I've made.