I am channeling Susie Homemaker.

One of my New Year's Resolutions, among others, was to learn how to use the sewing machine I bought three years ago. Originally, I thought I would be able to FIGURE THINGS OUT on my own, so I tried hemming my pants. I wound up sewing my pant legs TOGETHER. To this day, I still can't figure out what I did wrong. Some people really should just stick to stimulating the economy instead of trying so hard to be the perfect a Susie Homemaker (ahem).



ANYWAY. I signed myself for a five week sewing class at the local community college because I was NOT going to give up that easily.



The course syllabus said to bring three things:
your sewing machine
pattern
fabric



I have never bought a sewing pattern before IN MY LIFE. I about had a meltdown when I walked into Hobby Lobby. I'm not even kidding you. THERE ARE THOUSANDS OF PATTERNS THERE. You can make you own UNDERWEAR. Did you know that?



I wish I didn't.



I wanted to make some cute skirts for dancing, but the sales lady said they would be too hard. A PENCIL SKIRT. Clearly, she has NO IDEA what my capabilities are.



I chose this pattern and decided to make both the smaller and the larger bag. I chose a black and white fabric for the large bag and flamboyant red sequined fabric for the pouch. I am out of control.




I show up for class fully prepared and very much excited about dominating this long lost domestic art. Our teacher looks at the class, and tells us,


"This is a sewing class. It's not hard. It doesn't even take a brain to know how to do it!"



Her first instructions to us were to cut out the pieces to our pattern. (Have you ever SEEN a sewing pattern? It's full of solid lines, squiggly lines, dotted lines, notches, triangles, weird shading and teeny tiny words IN FRENCH.) I COULD NOT figure out what I supposed to do. I sat there stupidly with my scissors in my hand staring at my pattern, wondering where in the WORLD I was supposed to start cutting. I honestly couldn't figure out if my confusion meant I was clearly TOO BRILLIANT to be sewing my own clothes, or that I was clearly as dumb as dirt.


I still.....don't.....really.....know.


ANYWAY.


I cut all 8 pieces (yes, 8! I better be able to channel some Mary Poppins when this is all said and done. ) of my bag out and pinned them to the fabric. The girl next to me had her pieces pinned already, her scissors poised in the air. She looked at me, her eyes full of terror.



"I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! WHAT IF I DO IT WRONG? WHAT IF I CUT IT WRONG? WHAT IF I RUIN MY FABRIC? WHAT IF I RUIN THE PATTERN? I DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM DOINGGGGGGG!!!!"



You would think we were performing brain surgery. I started to seriously wish the syllabus had recommended bringing Merlot.



Our teacher finally (FINALLY) came around to help us, but really, at that point it was TOO. LATE. Class was practically over. Our confidence was shot. I was getting a migraine. And clearly, the girl next to me needed a DRINK as badly as Charlie Sheen needs a smack upside the head.



Our homework was to finish cutting out our pattern and have it ready to sew the next class. Tomorrow is our second class. Lord, help us.


Please send wine.