The Other Half: Trimming a Lamp Shade

Hey everybody! After last Friday's half-post about my intentions to gussy up a plain lamp shade, I almost didn't get the second half done this weekend either, even though I promised.

After tons of wet, cold, even snowy weather in April, we finally had one of those stunning spring weekends--sunshine, mild temps, gentle breezes. We had to go the local Lowe's check out the outdoor stuff. After a dreary and long winter, we couldn't resist taking a few things home. Ben is going to try growing tomatoes in a pot this year:

And Joe insisted we bring home these lilies, because the color was "so cool." I agree:

But Sunday morning I had a bad case of First Day of Spring Garden Work-itis, sore muscles everywhere (hell-O abdominals) and decided that I could handle one indoor project.

Last Friday I showed you my 1960s era green ceramic genie lamp, with the shade that is just fine but could use a little something.

Just a few tools for this job-- hot glue gun, we meet again. 

When trimming a lamp shade, start at the seam, so all the least attractive parts of the lamp shade are all in one place and can be turned against the wall:

The key to doing this well is doing just an inch or two at a time. Don't spread hot glue around the entire shade and then start slapping on big lengths of trim. It doesn't work. Use as little glue as possible to make it work, so the braid doesn't end up soaked through with glue and embalmed in plastic (not a good look).

My cuticles and fingernails trashed by garden work: also not a good look. 

Looking nice, I think: 

At the seam, some people prefer to leave a short extra length and fold under. With some types of flat or thin trim, that will work. But this braided trim is a bit bulky, so I've chosen to cut it cleanly with the exact edge of the start, and butt the two ends together. It takes a little extra glue to get all the ends fastened down, but I think it's a relatively clean look:

After doing the top in the same way, it looks like this:

Here is the shade, in its habitat:

Now the before again:

And after:

To me, the trim not only made the shade seem less bare and plain, it also seemed to make the shade more balanced and in proportion in relation to the lamp as well. I'm not sure why this is, but I'm enjoying the improved effect.

I have one more lamp shade to cover in this living room, but I'm still thinking over the strategy for the unusual shape. It's for the little lamp at the other end of the sofa:

For me these projects take a little time to gel in my mind before I go forward. The last lamp shade took me two years to finish. I wonder how long this next one will take.

Ready to Sew Curtains? Or not.

Sewing curtains is not really that hard. Not compared to, say, making a tailored suit. It's just making large flat rectangles, in most cases. That's what curtain panels really are.

So why do I have to think about it so much?

I just do. I think thinking about it too much is really an underrated step in any sewing project.

At this point, I know I want to take this fabric:

And create curtains out of it to hang on this window:

Really what I'd like to do is somehow hurl the bolt of fabric AT the window and have it magically hang itself on the curtain rod and done, so I can pick up my glass of wine and admire the results. Sort of like how the birdies made a dress for Cinderella in the Disney version, but less annoyingly cutesy-like. Because I can hurl things like nobody's business.

Sadly, neither hurling nor animated songbirds are going to get this thing done for me.

It's going to take some scratch paper, some measuring, and some figuring out. Isn't this diagram neat, tidy, and exhaustively precise?

Yeah. I'm not any of those things. 

Here's what I know: 

1. I'm not washing the fabric. That was one decision where my innate caution (it's wool fabric) and my innate impatience (are we done yet?) merged nicely. 

2. I'm sewing it with a liner, with the idea that it can cut some drafts (winter) or block some sun (summer), and reduce sun fade. This is where my innate caution and my innate patience did NOT merge nicely. 

3. The fabric is a coarser weave, thick, and heavy. It's also a really busy and bright fabric design-wise. So, this is not the time for showing off. No pleats, ruffles, or fancy stuff. Two plain panels. Plain is simpler. Another score for that impatience thing.

4. Because of 3, I also don't need bunches of fabric gathering up on a rod pocket. I'll be using ring clips on a cafe rod, and I am toying with the idea of using 1.5 times the width of the window for the total width of curtains, instead of the usually advised twice the width. But I'm on the fence about that. 

5. There are several options for length of curtain:

• Just skimming the top of the sill, good for areas which might be construed as a domestic combat zone, like over the kitchen sink, or in a child's room. 

• Just covering the bottom of the apron, which still keeps the curtain from being in the way of furniture/pets/radiators, but covers the entire window. 

• Just skimming the top of the baseboard, which makes it easy to vacuum, but dooms your curtains to perpetual nerd-dom, like the guy in too-short pants. 

• Just missing the floor, which looks classy but is also good for picking up pet hair and if you have small kids, makes a handy living room napkin.

• Pooling on the floor, which is for people who have no children, no pets, and don't do their own housekeeping. In fact, this isn't even a real category, except for magazine pictures of Houses Where Real People Do Not Live. 

Floor length in a kitchen is nuts. But I also want to cover up the window completely, because the wood trim is pretty ugly (and right there is a what a copy editor would call a "deliberate oxymoron." Enjoy!) So, I'm going to the bottom of the apron.

So, after measuring up all these different dimensions, doing the math several times in that great "measure twice, cut once" tradition, and after spreading the entire length of the fabric out on the floor and staring at it several times..... I fold it all up and put it away. Seriously. This kind of thing needs to stew.

Step one to sewing curtains: Measure your windows
Step two to sewing curtains: Measure your fabric
Step three to sewing curtains: Stew about it for a few days.

I'm hoping to be done stewing by the weekend, when I'll have both time to sew, and daylight to shoot decent photos. Check back next week for progress.

Fabric Advice: To Wash or Not To Wash?

I am perfectly and painfully aware that my kitchen painting project began in August of LAST YEAR, and here it is January of a new one. I'm irritated but not really apologetic. In between then and now a second new job in addition to my regular one, two birthdays, and three holidays (Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas) ensued.

Rolling, rolling, rolling, get those rollers rolling....

But I have been plugging away in little fifteen minute intervals when I have the time. The ceiling and three out of four walls are painted. I am assembling decorative items. There is even an upcoming reveal on a surprise purchase for the room (A surprise for me. Can we talk about completely unplanned?) which really brings things together.

Now that I've dangled that in your face, I do need help with a fabric. Since my kitchen walls are in avocado green and a french-vanilla-y ivory, I wanted the curtains to provide colorful contrast and another cue to the era. Yes, I'm about to get out my sewing machine.

I picked up several yards of vintage fabric from Etsy that I love:

Bright and rich patterns that mimicked crewel work were popular in decor fabrics from the 1960s and 70s, and this fabric is no exception. It's large scale too. The largest flower motifs range in size from 4 inches to six inches across, and they're grouped in even larger clusters. I love that this fabric is unapologetically colorful-- orange, yellow, mustard, bittersweet, green, avocado, brown, tan, ivory, periwinkle blue-- there's a lot going on up in here.

This is an upholstery or heavy drapery panel fabric in a wool and nylon blend weave. The selvage edge printing says it's made by Cohama Fabric and the pattern is called "Bradford." It also says it's "Scotchguard treated."

Therein lies my dilemma. Do I pre-wash this fabric, or not?

Arguments in favor: 
1. Conventional sewing wisdom says you always wash fabric before making something, so the fabric doesn't pull, pucker, or shrink along seams later.
2. I tend to favor washable curtains in any room where life is going to get dirty, like kitchens, bathrooms, and kid's bedrooms.
3. Washing would help get rid of a slight stale odor.

Arguments against: 
1. If I wash the fabric, it removes the Scotchguard protection, which considering it's planned location in the kitchen, is a plus.
2. It's wool AND vintage, both of which makes this unpredictable as far as washing will go. Could I stand it if I wrecked it? I'm not sure. I'd be out about $50 and have to start over again searching for fabric.
3. It's huge. Wool is heavy when wet, and this is 4 yards of 72-inch wide fabric. "Handwash in cold water," the preferred method for washing vintage wool, would be almost impossible.

My instincts say NO, don't wash this fabric. The curtains would be in the eat-in area of the kitchen, away from the "business end" of the appliances. There are home dry-clean kits, Febreze, vacuuming, and other ways to freshen these curtains without running the risk of of ruining vintage wool fabric. The weave is such that I'm afraid fibers would pill and fuzz with washing.

But that instinct is warring a bit with my genetic German hausfrau, who insists that every surface in a home be washable, scrubbable, and if possible bleachable.

Which way would you go?

A Little List

Writing, by Elisa Xyz

When I posted on Friday I said out loud in front of the whole world (me 'n' my big mouth), that I'd come back by Sunday with a list of things to accomplish for the week I have to myself between jobs. I consider it a way to take a little bite off the huge enchilada that is my total house renovation. If that goes well, maybe I will sit down and tackle the BIG LIST, the one I blogged about here with misgivings and strong drink. 

At first I was off and running. It's easy to "make a list." It's harder to "do the list." In my Wild Imagination, it's easy for me to get all excited about the possibilities of "getting stuff done." Unfortunately, Wild Imagination, that sassy missy, tends to concentrate on the fun stuff-- the pillows and the knick-knackery, picking paint chips and shopping for the little finishing touches. She doesn't seem to care much for the more unpleasant things like pulling up carpet staples, sanding walls, or cleaning up several decades worth of grime.

So I put a stop to all that, got stern with myself and start to think realistically what I could get done in a week, and what HAD to get done this week. After that, a clearer picture started to emerge.

How I chose my week's list:

1. I'm going to be freelance writing again for about 10 to 15 hours a week to supplement my new job's income. That means I'll be working from home again, and need to have an orderly, dedicated place in which to do it. My front room is a disaster, and I'm going to change that.

2. Some time ago, I put a firm moratorium on buying any more fabric until I did some of the endless projects I cooked up in my head (thanks, Wild Imagination). I've got some projects that need doing in the short term, so now it seems easier to dive in.

Above from left to right are two floral cotton prints I picked up last year, and a vintage lightweight dobby plaid. I need some skirts that are office casual appropriate, and I've got some simple patterns that I can run up quickly to fill my closet. The fabric on the far right was a set of curtains in a previous life, made of sturdy twill. They are going to become a set of toss pillows for my living room sofa.

3. I keep shoving off having a yard sale because I can't seem to get my act together, assemble the items, and sort them by categories that will be easy to price. Also, this issue is getting me stuck on making progress in my bedroom (Don't ask. It's not pretty). So, I'll spend a day getting these things organized, even if I don't have a date set yet.

4. Another reason that I've gotten "stuck" on my bedroom is a ceiling paint job that I did last fall that to be perfectly honest, stunk. I didn't want to start the next step, a floor painting job, until I painted the ceiling again. But I hate painting ceilings. So.....(clock ticking, calendar pages dropping to the floor)....I just didn't do it. This situation is ridiculous, and I'm doing something about it this week.

5. More progress in the garden. Any progress at all. Don't get me wrong. It's been coming along. I just need to keep at it. Right now that means bagging and disposing of sod, mulching newly claimed border territory, and getting edgers run all the way along the bed.

6. An "overflow day." Even thinking hard about setting priorities, I tend to get too ambitious. A day to make up for unexpected surprises or poor planning is a good idea.

So here we go with the little list/schedule:

The Little List

Sunday: This is Prep Day. Cleaning supplies for front room project, set up sewing machine on the dining room table, assemble paint supplies in bedroom for ceiling re-do. Find storage boxes for garage sale organizing day.
Monday: This is Front Room Day. Clean, organize, and get the front room ready to be a freelancers office!
Tuesday: This is Sewing Day. Skirts, pillows!
Wednesday: This is Garage Sale Planning Day. 
Thursday: This is Ceiling Painting Day.
Friday: This is Gardening Day.
Saturday: This is Recovery Day. Clean house and do laundry. 
Sunday: Yeay Me Day!

Valentine's Day: I Love My Sister

 What's not to love about this?

My sister, the very same sister superhero of my renovation summer, sent me a package that arrived this weekend. I'm terrible at waiting if it isn't Christmas or birthday, so I just went on ahead and tore into it. And you see above, my lovely Valentine's Day gift.

My sister is a painter (I just love saying that. I love bragging on her talented behind). And the little nuthatch on a branch is just what the doctor ordered for my usual mid-February slump (I'm not much on winter). It's a nice perk of sisterhood with Dyan that I get the blessing of her talent. She also paints pet portraits and jewelry: her Etsy Shop is here.

The little ACEO (Art Cards Editions and Originals, if you've always wondered) came in the pocket of an apron, also made by my sister. Aqua floral, crisp white, and red ric rac. How can you go wrong?

The aqua print is from a vintage feed sack that came from the fabric stash of our Great Aunt Elizabeth. Aunt Elizabeth passed away last November, and we miss her. She was a school librarian and band director/music teacher in rural Missouri schools her entire adult life. She was a little prim, but she was smart and good and an enthusiastic follower of all her many great nieces and nephews, since she never had children of her own. It's a gift with the extra sentimental value built into every stitch.

Here's a closer detail of the fabric. It's so cheery and bright:

I hope you had a great Valentine's Day too!

Fabric Finds: Make Your Own

Have you heard of Spoonflower?
Apparently I am late to the party, but I'm so glad I discovered it. It's a website where you can design your own fabric, have it printed, and then order yardage.

Wait, what?

Let's go over that again.

You can design your own fabric, have it printed, and then order yardage.

I KNOW. Isn't that the coolest thing you've ever heard? And LOOK:

Somebody just said: "I'd like a retro print in lime, coral, and aqua, with little TVs and big loopy circles." And that's what they got! This one is called, "Say Goodnight Gracie," which is the best fabric name EVER.

I bumped into Spoonflower accidentally and coincidentally when I was in the middle of some angst about fabric choices concerning curtains. I like to make my own, because then you get something that's made to fit the window, and in the exact design that looks best (within reason. I've yet to do pinch pleats, though I'm considering learning).

I'm very picky. Pattern, color, whatever. It HAS to be just right. And I have this theory that you really have to love the fabric you're sewing with, or you're not going to love your house when you look at those windows. I detest choosing fabric on the "well, this was the best I could find" proposition. ARGH. And where I live, there's a lot of that. Not a lot to choose from.

Right now we're about at the half way mark with my kitchen. The cabinets are completely re-finished and the new appliances and countertop are in.  I guess I should say the most expensive and time consuming things are in (you'll get an update sometime in the future). But at some point in time, paint and curtains are going to come to my 1970s era kitchen built on to my 1930s house.

But the curtains on the sliding glass door are some sad, limp, dirt beige tab tops from Target. They've stayed there for lack of time to address the situation, and a continuing need for some privacy from the backyard neighbors. Here's a photo. Please excuse the quality, but I guess "before" photos are supposed to be bad, right?

I see these every morning, and they make me want to go back to bed.

Let's get this out of the way: I have something against tab top curtains. I've NEVER liked them. They just look like the manufacturer was too cheap to make a proper casing for the curtain panel. I know that's not the point. The point is that it's a stylistic choice but one that, for whatever reason, my eye rebels against every time I see them.