Finally, someplace to work from.

Insert the sound of my hysterical laughing.

As usual, I come back after a six (seven?) month absence, and my previous post is about how I’m going to make more time for blogging.

I guess this post could essentially be the same as the last one, minus the bit about being able to blog on my lunch hour. I still work at the same place; I’m just not allowed to eat lunch at my desk. Which bites, really. But I don’t want to get into that.

In the time since I last posted, anniversaries and holidays have passed, the Mister and I have finally moved out into a place of our own, and I’m slowly getting used to feeling suspiciously like an adult.

The current desk set-up.

The current desk set-up.

I have been unpacking and organizing and trying to get our household all set up. I’ve got my own desk for the first time in four years, and it’s big enough to hold my computer, the sewing machine, and the serger at the same time–though for obvious reasons I can’t use them all at once.

Pincushion close-up.

Close-up on the badly made pincushion.

My first project in the new place was the Weighted Pin Cushion, from the tutorial over at Sew, Mama, Sew.

I saw it first over at Noodlehead, and I liked it so much it’d been on the top of my to-be-made list since October.

I really didn’t take the care like I should have for the project, but it started with not especially liking my fabrics. I made it because it was useful and because I wanted to try it with not-good stuff before I ordered fabric specifically for it.

I really like the design, and if I hadn’t half-assed it, I’d really like this one. I could see making this for a few of my friends who sew; I think it’d make an excelent gift. When I’m ready, I plan on making matching machine covers and an ironing board cover (matching in that I’ll make those, and a new pincushion, in specially picked fabric), if only to girlify the office that I share with the Mister.

The hardest thing to get used to in the new place? His interest.

I’ll be sewing and all of the sudden he’ll be hovering over my shoulder, watching what I’m doing. It could drive me batty. I’m not used to anyone taking an interest in what I’m doing. I’m sure I’ll get used to it, though.

And he might hover less if I fix the pocket in his favorite shorts.

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