Sunday, January 14, 2024

Tuppence a Bag

 I am not sure when I became a crazy bird lady. 

Yes, we inherited a well weathered wooden feeder when we bought the house 37 years ago.

Sure, when the kids were little we made special bird cakes and popcorn and cranberry strands to hang in the ‘bird tree’ at Christmas.

Okay, I have requested bird feeding paraphernalia for several gift giving holidays in the past. 

And…I have not one but two bird identifier aps on my phone….


Robins playing a drinking game


The prevailing thought seems to be that a bird feeder, binoculars, notebook and brown paper bag of breadcrumbs arrives concurrent with your AARP card. (With the first time you complain about the weather as related to joint pain they add in an Audubon beginners bird book.)


Admittedly the median age of any five people in my bird seed store (yes, I have a preferred bird seed store - Wild Birds Unlimited) is 64.25 years of age, this is no reason to automatically assign senior discount status to my credentials. I do think that while our ‘lost year’ (the pandemic) helped make birding more acceptable to multiple generations, there is still a sensible shoes and bulky cardigan sweaters vibe attached. 


(This does not include Hummingbirds. Hummingbirds are enjoying a globally popular resurgence in feeding and tracking. And while they are thrilling, I have yet to see such meanly aggressive behavior in any of my other yard birds. I had to set up a decoy feeder just so Alpha Hummingbird could guard ‘HIS’ feeder.) 

slightly grainy photo of Alpha Hummingbird

I eased into bird watching slowly with the aforementioned inherited feeder. Fueled by observing the delight my Dad took in spotting a tufted titmouse or a rare blue bunting. 

In fact, Dad was the first person I alerted when I spotted not one but two vibrantly blue bunting at my feeders one summer. 

There is nothing quite like the thrill of catching the first migratory dark eyed junco cruising in for a tasty suet snack. Or catching a bluejay as he grabs an entire peanut in the shell. 

And don’t get me started on spotting TWO actual blue birds at the birdbath over Christmas this year! 



Of course, bird watching is also an opportunity to teach your young children about the circle of life as Red-Tailed hawk swoops in, clearing the busy feeder and catching a turtle dove nearly twice his side. The catch being so big that he had to hop-drag it to the top of the yard where an even larger hawk relieved him of his meal. 

It was an equally amazing and horrifying lesson. But one that made a lasting impression on the importance of living in the moment…


I added the Merlin bird ID ap during one of the many Bird Count Weekends. An at home event The next Great Backyard Bird Count is Feb 16-19. Check it out here - https://www.birdcount.org/


What better excuse than to hang around by your favorite window or on your deck with a cup of coffee!


One of the most peaceful activities in my mind is just quietly watching the traffic at my newly filled feeder. There are identifiable traffic patterns and seatings. 

Early morning gets the smaller birds, cardinals, blue jays and squirrels. 

Mid-day brings starlings, doves, robins and squirrels. 

Evening can be a mix, especially if The Great Seed Lady opts to refill. Then it’s a little bit of everyone. 

And squirrels.

Okay, technically not a squirrel, but just so amazing. And part of the feeding pattern

not a single bird or squirrel has EVER brought their babies up to visit.


Unlike a lot of birders, I don’t mind the ancillary eaters - including but not limited to squirrels, deer, raccoons, possums, fox, coyote and once an actual HORSE!

They provide a bit of comic relief as they try to hang upside down to empty the $35 a bag thistle seed all over the ground, or attempt to grab a quick drink of water while not disturbing the human sitting in the deck chair less than a foot away from the bird bath.

And how much fun is it to watch that scoop of seed shoot out of the feeder and onto your feet because Squirrel has chewed a larger opening in the side of the feeder to make it easier to throw seed everywhere. 

The trick is to keep the everyone well fed to the point of hiding whole peanuts in the deck plants thus providing a fun experiment in Just What is That Sprouting in February in my banana tree pot and NOT eating my tomatoes.


Yet, with all the extra cost of seed, suet, feeders, heated bird bath… The many mornings racing to the fill the feeders before work, in rain and sleet and below zero temps…

Seeing Half-Tail Squirrel peeking in the kitchen window when the seeds are late or hearing Carolina Wren chirping and leaving tiny feet prints by the backdoor in a dusting of snow makes it all worthwhile. 


And when they leave their suet in the shape of a heart?! 

Go ahead and ship me my brightly colored housedress, and field vest. 


My name is Laura and I am a Bird Watcher.  


(I would also like to give a Shout-out to longtime Coast of Illinoiser - BO, for her quick thinking and bravery in snapping a picture of the rare, inside, cold-weather Hairnet. While unsure of the exact species, it has been determined that this particular variety is harmless, most likely lethargic from an ambient heat source and too much chatter about football and Taylor Swift.) 

Coast of Illinois is not liable for any injury, or mockery sustained while photographing nets in the wild.


Happy Depths of Winter, Everyone!
Stay warm, make hot chocolate and study those seed catalogs for Spring!


Monday, January 1, 2024

Magic



Welcome to 2024. 


I don’t know about you, but I find New Year’s Day to feel crisp and fresh, no matter the weather. (It doesn’t hurt that here, on the Coast of Illinois, it leans towards the below freezing mark.) 

The entire new year stretches out on that pristine new calendar of island photos and my new day planner is loaded with goals, just waiting to be checked off in the appropriate coordinating colored pen. 

Never mind that the new day planner has pages for only 160 days… I guess at the end of the book I should be so well organized that I no longer need a planner…

(perhaps one of my goals should be to read the product descriptions more carefully before I obsessively order something I just can’t do without)


But where is the fun of that? 


You lose all magic in the world if you analyze every little detail. 


Which is why the word MAGIC is my word for 2024. 


I have long since given up on resolutions. By day six I have missed a deadline or surpassed a calorie count or skipped a workout and then the entire year is clearly shot. 

Around the time of the pandemic, I read about choosing a word to guide and define your year. 

This, I can do. 


I found my word this year on a post by one of my favorite Peloton instructors - Sam Yo @yoiamsamyo. Sam posted a word grid with instructions to look closely for what word you find first, and this will help define your year. 

MAGIC immediately popped out. 

In fact, I have been back to look at the grid several times and truth here - I have a hard time finding any other words. Yes, I know that now that my mind has found MAGIC it will always go there first, but moving on from that initial word yields irritation and the tiny yet insistent voice in my head tells me to STOP LOOKING!


And I am good with that. 


Magic in this world is one of my favorite things to believe in and experience. It’s what fueled my original idea here of Seeing Hairnets. 

Such a random event, walking in to work, only to spot not one discarded hairnet but SEVEN?! This is the World’s Magic in overdrive. (sure, it might be that I work with a bunch of non-caring slobs.) But I prefer to believe that the World wants us to have a laugh. 


Let me give you a visual example of some recent Magic.


There is a secluded, employee walkway from the fancy garage into my hospital. It’s a long, boring hall painted institutional green with glaring overhead lights that flash on as you pass. There is a chronic patch of institutional grey carpet that is wet with an industrial fan blowing the potential musty smell away. 

Some how, the paint of one section tore the way weird things happen to secluded walls. Some wonderful person noticed the rip and assigned a shape to it. Which suddenly gained google eyes.



This random cat shape caught the attention of a few other amazing people and this happened:



Bartholomew suddenly became the underground talk of the entire hospital staff. Look closely, he has a Leg Lamp, a window with CURTAINS and various celebrities peaking in, snowflakes, a Charlie Brown tree and personal Christmas cards!


Everyday we waited for a Bartholomew update, while silently praying that the Powers that Be hadn’t gotten wind and deemed it a fire hazard thus taking it down overnight. 

But this did not happen. 

Bartholomew has lived in that hallway for close to the entire month of December and he has upgraded his home!



Fireplace, Christmas lights, even GIFTS! 


I have heard so many people talking about how happy this display makes them as they walk in to work. The surprise of how silly and over the top it has become! The fact that management has not removed it!


We all know that some day Bartholomew will leave us. And like so many lives that suddenly leave, we will mourn him. But the Magic of this moment will always bring us together and make us smile.


This is the sort of crazy fun we need more of.


That one wonderful person who noticed a Cat in torn paint! 

The person who felt he needed curtains on a window!

The complete and utter silliness and joy that brought us all together in a place that is more times than not sad and difficult to be. 


Magic. 


I am wishing each of you a year filled with this sort of Magic. 

May you discover it on your own. May it wash over you. And when it does, share it with Everyone. 


Happy New Year from the Coast of Illinois. 


Monday, May 1, 2023

You Never Know



Well, hello!

Been awhile…


About seven years ago, while walking the three blocks to my car I noticed no less than six hairnets, drifting along the gutter and cowering next to buildings. 

After mentioning this on facebook and to friends at work, people started telling me about their own hairnet sightings which quickly devolved into text message photos at all hours of the day.


As a result, this blog was born in an attempt to help more people recognize the absurdities all around us. 

The stories revolved around hairnets and random thoughts with occasional travel logs and adventures in sailing. 


Then, the world itself became so absurd that my random observations on ill fitting undergarments and rogue squirrels felt irrelevant. I attempted updates here and there but my heart just wasn’t in it. I settled into a routine of working in protective gear and reading on the deck. 

PS- the middle of a pandemic is NOT the time to finally read The Stand by Stephen King…


I haven’t really noticed many hairnets hanging around lately, but, on my way along the three block, now covered, indoor walkway I saw someone’s abandoned Invisiline mouth appliance lying on the carpet. 

Just the appliance. 

No protective denture case.

Not even a zip lock baggie. 

It was as if the wearer just couldn’t take it any longer and gave it a mighty patooie.

I mean, how else could it end up unprotected, lying on a well traveled walkway? 

Was the bag so tightly packed that upon reaching in and retrieving some important piece of purse stuff the appliance, which should have been in the mouth, went zinging unnoticed?

Was the cell phone conversation so intense that it literally caused the owner to ‘lose it’? 

Was it so invisible that its owner didn’t see it?


I’ll never know. 

In fact, I was so invested in trying to think up possible scenarios in which something in my mouth could exit without notice that it didn’t even occur to me to take a photo. 

(I suppose I should say, ‘You’re Welcome’ here. Because personally, the last thing I want to see is ANYTHING which should be in someone’s mouth. This includes and is not limited to braces, rubber bands,  invisiline appliances and teeth - real, baby, false or precious metal.)


This episode took place a couple months ago. I still couldn’t quite get my thoughts on paper. 

Until two weeks ago when my husband and I went to dinner and got trapped in the middle of a tornado warning just after our entrees were delivered. 

It was clear that the weather was too dangerous to leave and let’s face it, our meals were too delicious to abandon. 

We moved away from the plate glass windows, assured ourselves that the interior bathroom was large enough to hold the dozen other diners comfortably, ordered another glass of wine and settled in for what turned out to be a very entertaining evening of weather watching. 


I love a good wine glass picture
I love a good wine glass picture

Let it be noted that I am not trying to downplay the impact of severe weather. I completely understand how bad these spring storms have been. Several tornadoes touched down only miles from our home, with one being sighted about a quarter mile from our daughter’s home.

This was the view from my sister's house, about three miles from me. 

But let’s face it. If you are in a relatively safe space and it would be more dangerous to drive with or into the storm, you might as well make the best of it. 


Once the storm passed, we made a dash to the car and as we made our way down the street I saw a sign. 

Literally. 

This sign. 


Me, in sign form.


A poor guy, riding along, working on cardio, saving the planet on his bike when BAM! He hits a surprise storm drain and goes flying. 

This sign totally gets my philosophy on so many levels. 


Always be aware of the things around you. You never know when you might see that storm drain waiting to break your leg or Spiderman trying to get a drink…


Spiderman, keeping his attitude at the door at the Broadway Oyster Bar

Until next time....

A little promo here - I am giving Write 30 days in May to help raise money for the American Cancer Society. If you would like to donate you can find my fundraising page here: 
https://www.facebook.com/donate/733301138537868/  




Wednesday, June 1, 2022

The Five Stages of Sailmaking

 (My apologies to Elizabeth Kubler Ross, whose five stages of grief are: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. It was noted in her study that people, when faced with any traumatic life event will pass through these stages, in a certain order, although the person may jump ahead and then repeat these stages. Sailmaking is no exception.)


DENIAL

Even after many discussions and cost comparisons of making vs buying a ready made sail, when it was determined that making a sail would save us nearly $1000, I pretty much blocked the decision from my mind.

The kit came in this unassuming box, was placed in the basement and promptly ignored. 

For at least a month.

Maybe longer...

this box sat unopened for about a month


ACCEPTANCE

When at last it was noted that sailing season was less than a month away, we opened the box, sorted out the supplies, and set up the workspace.

Note the smile. This is what psychotic looks like.


This is the enormous spool of thread. It had to be threaded around the leg of the table as the actual machine spindle is entirely too small. 
This should be a warning. 

Note the two shades of fabric. This is an example of the layering technique used to make the sail.
The sections are numbered 1-8. This is section 8 attached to section 7. Moving from smallest to largest. Except that there is a need to skip sections and attaching 'relatively smaller to relatively larger' until all you have left is two ridiculously large sections that in NO WAY are easy to manage. The sections are sewn one on top of the other rather than along a layered seam line. It would be impossible to open and crease a traditional seam. These seams are sewn with two lines of zig-zag stitches. This not only locks the fabric twice, sort of hems the dacron and most importantly looks Super Cool 

Once the sections get too large to handle flat - which would be about one double section - the excess fabric is rolled and secured in any manner you can think of, including but not limited to double sided seam tape, masking tape, rubber bands, chip clips, paperclips and heavy duty clamps. 



Be warned - none of these methods will stay secure and will release at the most crucial moment of sewing thus causing the excess weight of the fabric to unfurl and pull from under the machine needle leading to missed stitches, broken needles and Stage Three

ANGER
At this stage you must resign yourself to the fact that two people are not going to manage this task and if you want to save the marriage you will call someone unrelated to act as mediator and fabric wrangler. In this case it was our friend The Fireman. (Our son had assisted on some of the smaller portions but for some reason became 'unavailable' by phone, text. email and search warrant.)




 The Fireman has entered into the ACCEPTANCE phase. 
Where as I am hovering between the stages of Divorce and Justifiable Homicide. 

However, the fewer giant pieces of dacron left lying on the furniture and floor of the basement gradually placed me into 
BARGAINING
I have ceased any inner dialogue. I am openly praying to any and every deity available to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't break another needle and make me resew the last three feet again....


Apparently my prayers were answered as when what I thought was my last needle snapped into fourteen tiny shrapnels, I found an entire new pack of heavy duty needles in my supply dish. 

Once the sail is completely pieced together the sides must be finished which involves encasing the raw edge in double fold fabric. This went much easier that any of us expected. 
The final sewing machine task is making the channel for the bolt rope. The bolt rope stiffens the leading edge of the sail and allows a more firm edge to the hanks which will attach to the forestay. 
(In layman's terms - this hooks the front sail to that front line as noted in every cartoon drawing of a sailboat.)




Now we enter into possibly the saddest moment of this sailmaking process. Or the most optimistic depending on your mindset. Note that tiny string extending from the bottom of the sail? This is the waxed cord that is enclosed in the rope channel. Ideally it does not get sewn down or stuck to the seam tape because it is going to be attached to the bolt rope itself and then very carefully pulled through the channel by the guy in the garage as The Fireman and I quietly pray and take bets on just when and where the cord is going to either get stuck or break. 


a close up of the cord and the attached rope

Which now leads us to the final official stage of Kubler-Ross's stages
DEPRESSION

Because, if you hadn't figured it out yet, the cord broke exactly ONE FOOT from the opposite end. There may have been some light cursing and an exchange of money. 
We had a cheese and cracker break and after a group vote it was decided to make a small incision into the channel itself, reattach the cord and work that %$#$%$ rope through to the end. 

Thus ending the Five Stages.
I would like to amend these stages with one final stage

DEVIOUS JOY!!

I have now come to the realization that I NO LONGER have to sew anything on the machine! 
HA! 
There are just bags of hardware left on the supply table and this is NOT my job.

Except that I have just been informed that the metal rings have been attached to the top and bottom of the bolt rope and now I have to HAND SEW them securely. 

Commencing re-entry into 
ANGER
DENIAL
BARGAINING
DEPRESSION
ACCEPTANC


This will make it all worthwhile, once that sail is complete....

At this writing I have successfully ignored my hand sewing duties for a week. The picture above is of St. Frank with the too small jib sail from our much smaller wooden boat. Thankfully, although sadly, the month of May has not cooperated weather-wise or life schedule-wise to allow us to get to the boat. 
I have managed to get the cushion covers washed up, purchased some surprisingly cheap non-breakable dishware, and planned the cabin curtains. Although the fabric for same is still lying downstairs waiting to be cut. Oh, and the bimini still needs to be measured for fabric purchase and creation. 
But that will be another, less hateful post.
I hope....


Wednesday, April 6, 2022

Welcome to the Coast



 

Hello!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it…something like two years and a month….

Things have changed, haven’t they? We have all been through some stuff…

I have tried, on more than one occasion to get a post up, but they all just seemed so…depressing.

But, time passes and hopefully we have learned a few things to better prepare us... 

Prepare us for things like, oh, I don’t know…making a new sail…??? 

2019 saw our old sailboat die a sudden death by broken mast, aided by 40 years of poor upkeep compounded by rotting would and some really good wind. We were rail in the water when we heard the CRACK. Initially assuming it was all our stuff flying to the leeward side.  Instead, that horrible sound turned out to be one of the mast stays, which had pulled free of the interior anchor thus leaving the mast partially unsupported. I dropped the mainsail as Rob started the engine and we cautiously motored back to dock at 5mph. All the time discussing how we were going to fix the problem. Once docked, it become clear that the best way to fix the problem, short of sinking the boat in a hidden cove, was to somehow donate the boat.

 

this is not a good thing

 As luck would have it, the marina Cool Change lived at was run by a sailboat lover and they worked out a deal to just take the boat, and it’s brand new outboard, off our hands.

We decided then that our little 15ft wooden boat would do from here on out.

We decided that we would not buy another boat.

So, two years later, we bought a BIGGER boat….

Meet St. Frank, a 27ft, 35ish year old Catalina tall-rig. (this last descriptor becomes way more important than I thought it would…)

 


St Frank – formerly/currently/actually – named St Frances by her previous owner, will be eventually undergoing a name change. (Can a boat be gender fluid?) Not that we have anything against St. Frances – I have known two very lovely women named Fran. But St Frances is just not a name that fits us. Once we land on a name fitting to all three of us – Rob, me and the boat – there will be a renaming ceremony. I can’t risk angering Neptune any more than I already have.

St Frank has it all, her previous owner outfitting the cozy sloop with a microwave, a portable electric refrigerator, a sound system and an AIR CONDITIONER!! We have seat cushions, kitchenware, movable cupholders and no jib. (The jib is the smaller, front sail on a sloop. It helps balance the larger main sail and just makes the whole boat so pretty.)


an actual galley

AND no more leaking port-a-potty!

What the boat does have is a storm sail, which is a much smaller front sail for inclement weather and a Genoa.

the large sail at the bow is the Genoa, note how much small the actual main sail is

 A Genoa is an ENOURMOUS front sail which grabs every ounce of wind there is allowing for some fast racing, if you are so inclined, and a lot of heeling. (Where the side of the boat leans into the water, which is fun, but the exact opposite of relaxing which is always my goal when on a boat.)

Which brings me to the theme of the next few posts (yes, there will be more!)

Because sails are expensive and we have already spent our Not Buying Another Boat budget on the above said boat, AND because I have made two other sails, it was decided that we would order one more sail kit from Sailrite.

The two previous sails were also Sailrite kits – precut sail pieces, hardware and some really helpful directions and diagrams. These sails were for our wooden boat. Because if Rob could make the entire boat of wood, just think how cool it would be if I made the sails…

Anyway, it was definitely a learning curve. But it has been 15 years since I made those sails and apparently 15 years is exactly how long it takes for me to forget what a semi-complicated and awkward process sail making is on a portable home sewing machine.

Sails these days are made of dacron – what can only be described as plastic paper fabric. It is stiff when new but over time softens to an almost leather feel. And it makes a cool popping sound as the needle pierces it.

The mast for this new/old boat is 30ish feet tall, which calls for a rather big sail. However, all I heard when discussing this project was ‘jib’ and ‘it’s a smaller sail than the main’.

I have no concept of size, or distance. All I knew was the last jib I made was not enormous.  

I am pretty sure my judgement was impaired by a tasty rum drink.

Turns out the small sail for a 27ft boat is quite a bit larger than the big sail for a 15ft boat.

Huh.

The sail comes precut in sections. The process involves sewing sections together and then sewing these sections to the other sections until you have an entire sail. The idea is to keep the sections a manageable size. Which in theory makes sense, if you have a football field size work room with a table of the same dimensions.

hardware with candles...

why a pic of an enormous bottle of wine?
 because this is what I will be drinking once this project is finished


I have two folding banquet tables, in a fully furnished basement family room that also currently houses a banana tree waiting for above 40 degree weather outside.

This is what that set-up looks like:

see all that white stuff on the floor? those are the PIECES of the sail

At this posting, the sail is about a third of the way finished.

Upcoming posts will discuss the finer points of securing, rolling and wrangling dacron, repetitive bobbin winding and needle threading and dealing with the panic of thinking you have sewn everything backwards……

Until next time...

this.
this is what makes all the broken needles worthwhile


Monday, July 27, 2020

Mask Making With CrapMonkey

Knowing how to sew is both a blessing and a curse.

For a time, I enjoyed making dolls and doll clothes, occasionally a dress for myself, curtains for the house, a formal for our daughter’s 8th grade dance…

But then word gets out and people start asking if you wouldn’t mind fixing this ripped pocket, or taking in this dress which is six sizes too big, or hemming these jeans or making the sails for your 15 foot sailboat….

And then the world decides to catch the MOTHER OF ALL VIRUSES and suddenly your 12-year-old, 4-H self feels obligated to make masks to protect family and friends.

Only the minute you sit down at the 35 year old Kenmore machine, you notice that every little thing begins to annoy you, from the color of the pin heads to the fact that EVERY TIME you try to take a stitch the needle un-threads itself and you can’t see that stupid needle hole because, seriously, you could NEVER see that stupid needle hole even when you were 12 years old and in 4-H making a circle skirt.

So, you throw all the mask making supplies in a heap, slam the bedroom door and vow to never go back in until overseas visitors arrive and need a place to sleep.

There may have been some cursing, also.

But then your friend Mel comes up to you at work, all excited because she has ordered 100 pounds of fabric, 2500 miles of elastic and seam binding and a spool of metal wire large enough to secure millions of things that need to be secured with wire, all so she can make masks.

just a sampling of supplies...

And as you stand there waiting, the words come out of her mouth….

“You know how to sew, right?”

And she has such a hopeful, excited look that you don’t have the heart to say that even the thought of talking about making masks makes you want to scream horror movie style and run to the nearest closet, curl up in a ball and slam the door.

Let alone trying to teach someone how to sew in the process…

(It should be noted that the last time I attempted to teach people to sew we were planning a fun trip to Jamaica and everyone needed super cute girl pirate shirts. NO where in that process was the concern that those shirts might save a life or at least prevent the spread of anything but laughter.)

But then, in a nearly out of body experience, you see your mouth open and the words hang in the air like a Sunday morning comic strip: SURE, Let’s make a day of it! We can do dinner!”

And that is how, a couple weeks ago, Rob and I hosted Mel and her partner for mask making and BBQ.

one of the most important sewing supplies, these days. 
one that my 4-H leaders never mentioned, btw. 

Before this goes further, there are a couple things you need to know about my friend Mel. She is ALWAYS prepared and has researched everything exhaustively at which point she has taken all the information she has gleaned and used it to invent an even better way to do something.

She is generous to a fault.

And, due to an unfortunate intestinal issue on a trip to Cabo several years ago, has earned the nickname CrapMonkey. 

(check out the original CrapMonkey post: https://www.coastofillinois.com/2013/02/travels-with-crapmonkey.html  )

So, it was no surprise when she and Joy arrived with the above listed mask making supplies, Mel’s new Brother sewing machine, a bag full of beer and wine, and some very delicious looking steaks.

because craft sewing also requires craft beers

We set up the basement with a big table, our sewing machines facing one another like partners in a crafting law office. 

this little trouper has been through a lot.

Fabrics were discussed, chosen to meet personality needs of family and friends and soon an assembly line began with Mel cutting, me pinning and Joy ironing.

sewing, or at least trying to...

ironing, which is very important

The lesson was going along pretty well, until the new sewing machine refused to sew a straight line, tracking to the right, and wadding the fabric up into an annoyingly tight ball.

Given the fact that  my machine is a good 35 years old, pretty much only goes forward and backwards and is not a Brother brand, I gave it my best shot and spun all the dials and changed all the settings I could and then still managed to act surprised when it continued to refuse to sew a straight line. All the while, Mel is frantically looking online at an owner’s manual the size of her phone screen.

Because she was looking at it on her phone screen…

Thankfully, we were saved by Rob announcing that dinner was ready. We had some much needed nourishment and even more needed wine before returning to one last attempt.

As Joy continued with her pressing of seams, I assembled and sewed, and Mel continued to fight with Brother.

pleat placement demo

Suddenly there was a shriek of only CrapMonkey magnitude.

“I found it! I searched ‘BUNCHING’ and here is the problem…”

After searching ‘poor tracking’ ‘fabric wadding’ ‘tension issues’ ‘how do you make this expletive piece of expletive work’, the google search for bunching fabric yielded an embarrassingly easy solution.

The machine was threaded incorrectly.

That was it.

Re-threading the machine produced a fine straight line.

And it was time for Crapmonkey to GO TURBO!!

In the next half an hour we power sewed about a dozen masks.

just a few of our custom designs

By now, it was getting late and everyone had work the next day. We barely made a dent in the warehouse of fabric and notions, but the foundation was laid, and mask production was ready to proceed at our respective homes.

For two weeks now I have walked past the abandoned sweatshop, throwing disdainful glances at the nearly finished masks spread out on the table just waiting for elastic earpieces and metal nose bridges.

I managed to make a few requested masks in support of our local baseball team for a sister-in-law. And some adorable littles and their stuffed animals will be sporting the latest in virus protection out West.

Teddy and Pooh modelling the latest in children's
and matching stuffies masks. 

But the fun of Crapmonkey Mask day is long gone and the thought of making masks for tiny kiddoes is nearly too much to bear.

I guess that’s what living in a Pandemic is.

Trying to find a way to make the weird and unsettling feel normal.

You don’t have to like it. You just have to find a way to get through it.

Maybe I need to turn to google for a better answer.

It worked for CrapMonkey.

 

Hoping everyone is staying safe out there, an appropriate 6 feet apart, and wearing your MASKS – over both your mouth and nose!

As a person of science, I am here to tell you that while they are irritating, uncomfortable and irritating, they are actually very important in the fight against the spread of disease.

The Healthcare System and Coast of Illinois thanks you.