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Le Mieux Est l’Ennemi Du Bien
In case you have forgotten your high school French or chose a more practical language elective, that’s a quote from Voltaire:
Dans ses écrits, un sage Italien
Dit que le mieux est l’ennemi du bien.
(In his writings, a wise Italian
says that the best is the enemy of the good)
This is one of my maxims. I used the aphorism constantly in technical project management. Perfect never comes. Good enough is — good enough. Ship it.
So today I’m practicing my own advice, and damn but it’s hard.
I’m making a pinning wall/flannel wall for my studio to be. It will be canvas on one side and flannel on the other, with cotton batting. It will be a sampler and practice piece for more free motion quilting. Today is the day I allocated to getting the thing pin basted, and I’m going to get it done. Dammit.
First issue I found was the carpet was too small without moving the dining room table.
Ok. I have mats I use for blocking out knitting. I can do this.
With a poodle’s help, of course.
I started laying it out. About that time I realized I should have vacuumed BEFORE I started pinning something out on the floor, but too late for whining. If a few bits of schmutz are in between the layers of my pinning wall it’s not going to change the world. Anything on the outside can get washed off when the project is completed; it’s going to spend time on the floor during the quilting process. Onward.
Next up the batting had been folded for a LONG time. Almost a year. And it was all rumply.
Ok. It’s lunch time anyway. Lay it out, let it relax, come back. Done.
Trimmed to fit, looks fine.
Checking the quilting spacing for this batting I discovered it’s a local product. Go me.
Next I set up the ironing board and unfolded the flannel. (Ironing board cover still gives me a big smile!) I discovered I hadn’t cut and seamed the piece to fit the canvas top when I put the project away, but no matter. I ironed it out nice and flat, folded it in half just to be sure it was big enough, and laid it on the canvas.
And it wasn’t. Not by a lot.
I pulled and poked and prodded and fussed and fumed and considered alternate layouts and nothing would change the fact that the fabric had shrunk about 10% in the wash. I bought 3.5 yards. I have the receipt to prove it. I need 120 inches, so I thought I was allowing an adequate amount for shrinkage. Nope. Now I have about 116 inches. The 45 inch fabric is now 43.
There are no photos of this process because, well, I take photos when I’m having a good time, it seems, or when I can already see the humor in a situation.
So I sat me down and had a little think. I don’t have the car, which makes it quite an outing for me to get to a fabric store. And even if I did I would have to wash and dry and stitch it up. It was already afternoon. I could chuck the idea of completing the pin basting today if that was my decision.
I decided it was enough. Is it what I want? nope. Is it good enough to be a tool in my studio? Yup. I can work on this. That’s all I really require. I will use the selvedges to get evenly close enough to the size of the canvas. I will make some sort of wide border for the edges of the flannel side, perhaps with the scrap canvas from the front.
Ok, moving on. I clipped the middle of the flannel and ripped it— I believe in staying on grain and I hate cutting so I more or less ALWAYS divide fabric this way. I set up at my Rocketeer and got the fabric fussed into a pile I could manage relatively easily and reached for my edge joining foot.
There was no edge joining foot.
I had been pleased to read about it in the manual and assumed it was a tool I had at my disposal, but no. That was an optional extra, and didn’t come with this machine.
There was more swearing. It was quite loud and creative.
And after I had my little tantrum I got out my over edging foot instead, and set up to zig-zag over the edge.
This is a trick I learned from serging: If I bind an edge in a way that allows the fabric to slide a little when tugged I get a nice decorative edge join. With a serger a three stitch seam will generally do this. With an interlocking machine the stitch I want is zig-zag. Essentially it needs to put one line of stitches in the fabric and one on the outer edge, and the seam ends up acting like the wire on a spiral bound notebook, allowing the sheets or pieces of fabric to open up. Loose tension helps.
The over-edging foot is a wonderful tool. If I just zig-zag an edge it tends to crumple it up, causing an unsightly bumpy edge that tends to show through whatever I’m making. The over-edging foot has a little metal finger over which the stitches form. This stretches them out so the edge of the fabric doesn’t get compressed. It’s important if you use this foot to be certain the machine is set to zig-zag wide enough to avoid driving the needle into the finger.
Pro tip: don’t try to reverse more than a couple stitches when using one of these feet. It causes stitches to bunch up on the little finger that keeps the stitches spread apart, and that causes all sorts of problems.
After applying my seam ripper to the problem and restarting, I had a nice over-edge zig-zag joining the selvedges.
A bit of a tug opened it out flat.
I could have done a better job keeping the outer edge of the fabric from drifting too wide. I wanted to capture as much of the fabric as I could between the stitching lines of the zigzag, but I caught too much. There were areas of the seam that didn’t open out because one or the other or both pieces were caught in both lines of the zig-zag.
At this point I was past swearing and into resignation. I got out my trusty iron and alternately tugged and pressed the seam until I had it mostly flat.
And you know what? When I flipped it over to the right side it was absolutely good enough.
You know what else? I’ll have this damned thing pin basted before David gets home.
I’m channeling Gretchen Rubin’s Happiness Project and Brene Brown’s speech about being in the arena. I’m imperfect. But dammit, I’m doing this thing. And you know what? It feels good to do it, even if it’s not perfect. It never was going to be.