Hey, remember two months ago when my kitchen looked like this?
Well, it still looks like that.
Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but as I write this, the countertop and sink are sitting on the floor…bonding. Like they’re long lost relatives or something. My husband assures me that by tomorrow I should have a functioning kitchen sink and be able to unpack some stuff!
Unpacking doesn’t sound like much fun, so I’ve decided to make a valance for the kitchen window instead. The kitchen is VERY white (such a great colour when you have two children under the age of three, non?) and I love colour, so I decided that I really, really wanted to splurge and buy some Marimekko fabric for the window valance. Then, during one of my meanderings through Fabricland, I found a decent fabric that matched some of our pottery (which, one day, will be displayed on open shelves when I finally decide what type of shelves I want!) and it was FIVE DOLLARS. Move aside Marimekko – how dare you attempt to rob me of $60 for one measly yard when I can have this (nowhere near as) perfectly nice fabric for a twelfth of the cost! (Did I do that math right? I’ve no idea…I have an English Literature degree…)
Now, I’m not saying this to be bitchy or judgemental, but there are a lot of sad looking valances on Pinterest. I’m not going to name names, you can take a look for yourself. It took me a long time to find a few that I thought were decent looking and easy enough for me to do. In the end, I decided to go with this tutorial and if it didn’t turn out, I’d have lost five bucks. If it did, but I hated the fabric, I promised myself that I would go straight to Finland to pick out my dream fabric!
So fast forward a month to three days before Spawn #2’s first birthday party and the prospect of 30 people being stuck inside my tiny house because it’s threatening rain finally urged me to get the sewing machine out and finish this puppy. Basically, it’s sewing a rectangle and then tacking a few pleats in it and Bob’s your uncle! Well, IF you can sew a straight line, Bob’s your uncle. If you can’t, then three hours later you’ll still be sitting in front the sewing machine, cursing and asking your husband to help. Again.
Except I didn’t like his suggestion of ripping out the stitches and starting all over. (My middle name is “Lazy”, not “Perfection”). Instead, I took the most crooked line and just folded it over a straight edge, pinned it, and sewed it right over top the crooked seam. Now it’s slightly less crooked, and from a distance you can hardly notice it at all! Right? You can’t even tell that the corners curl up or that it’s stapled to a scrap piece wood from an airplane model kit or that I used the totally wrong-coloured thread because I couldn’t remember how to spin a new bobbin with the right colour and couldn’t find the instruction manual for my sewing machine…right? Aw, shucks, you’re just saying that!
Now to do something about those shelves…