Testing, testing

I have one of my son's shirts now done. Beautiful fabric from Michaels. I am going to try to get the other one's plackets unpicked today after work and that whole one done before he leaves for NYC on Sunday.


My husband is walking around saying "only two more days to that baby," Miss Scarlett toilet-trained herself yesterday, my dishes are still on the bed in the spare room, and I am washing my pots in the laundry room. I have deadlines at work and need to get in there shortly.


So of course the first thing on my mind is sewing.


It should be of no surprise to anyone that many of my best ideas go nowhere. 


For instance I had this brilliant idea that I would test and report on a variety of basic sewer's sewing machines (as opposed to the fly-me-to-the-moon kind). I even sent off a few emails to some of the companies and offered my astute services.


So far not even an "are you nuts?" back. Hope is dimming on this project. I may even be forced to sew some white shirts.


I love testing things and even have some experience.


Years ago, when my kids were little, Threads had me test scissors. 

A big box of a gazzillion scissors came to the house and we had three happy days cutting things up. 


It was a riot. My middle guy, then about eight, was particularly good and by day two was saying things like " Good weight in the hand, nice grip, good points." We stopped testing when someone tried to pink the living room rug and filed our report. 


I contend I gave those kids a wonderful childhood. Even though I was once toasted at a wedding as the "mother who made the best Hallowe'en costumes and the worst lunches."


Which reminds me I better make mine.