Firing up the Janome

I've been slowly, oh-so-slowly, learning my way around my new Janome 8077 (respect the Janome, y'all).  It's beautiful.  30 different stitches, purrs like a kitten, functions as it should.  Any errors that are made on that thing are user errors.

And I've been making them, let me tell you.  I can see the light, and all.  I can see that I will be a much better crafter/maker/do-er on this machine than I was on the other one, which just limited what I could do in lots of ways, and created so many problems with stitches and the like.  But I'm muddling through figuring it all out right now, still--how the tensioner works, which stitch lengths are happiest with which fabrics and which stitch types, how many reverse stitches I need to do.  All that jazz.

That big old learning curve has led to some pretty funny projects.  I don't think my Dad is on the blog these days (my mom just had her surgery, which seems to have gone okay.  But I think he's going to be busy with that for a while).  So I feel comfortable posting his Father's Day gift here.  He is, after all, the person who bought the Janome for me (facilitated by my brother, smooches, smooches to him).  I got the idea from Etsy and then executed it like a fingerless numbskull.  It really should have been hand-sewn to avoid slippage with the felt squares on the fleece backing, but I was too excited to use the machine, and so I used it, and then the squares on the board ended up all wonky. 



But three things I like:  first, the gray rectangle over the board is actually a pouch stitched to the side seam, and can be flipped over to play.  It holds all the checkers. 

Second, the whole thing folds up into this neat little bundle. 



Handy, eh?  Cute, eh?

And finally, the pieces, which are little pieces of double-layered stitched felt, are adorable.  Like little baseballs.  Or mod candy.  Yum. 



Anyway, I'm not sure how often my Dad plays checkers, but as my other Dad (my biological Dad) says, honey, there's nothing I need, and plenty I want, but nothing you can afford.  Just send a card.

So, consider this my wonky, stitched card.  There's big love behind it, and every time I sit down to my machine I think of my Dad.  I'm pretty sure he knows that, and he can kick my butt at Checkers next time I'm home.  Cool.