simple sewing: fabric-covered pencil cups

Here's an easy breezy sewing project: turn your lunch into pencil cups.

I've never done anything with tin cans besides toss them in my recycling bin, but I can now say they're pretty much a craftswoman's dream since they're so accessible and versatile. They have such a practical shape and size, and are still cool-looking just on their own without their labels.

I can't cook, so I eat a lot of canned soup. It's about time that I used all those cans to enhance my life in other ways. Why not pencil cups? I probably spend as much time per week looking for a frickin' pen in this apartment as I do eating soup, so I need them to be more accessible.

OK. Step 1: Remove the label, which comes off easily under hot water. At least for Amy's soups it does.

Step 2: Cut a 5.25" x 10" rectangle of fabric. I used leftover fabric from some other home projects, because living room matchiness is a must. Turn the long edges over a 1/2 inch each and stitch. The resulting width is about 4.25" (the height of the can).

Step 3: Wrap the fabric around the can and mark where the ends should meet. It should be snug but not too tight that you won't be able to slide it on. Stitch the ends where you marked, right sides together. Trim the excess and press the seam open so it lays flatter on the can.

Step 4: Turn it right side out and pull it over the can, kinda like a beer coozie:

That's all it takes. Make one or one dozen. They contribute both color and functionality -- gotta love that.

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Project linked to:

Finding Fabulous: Frugalicious Fridays
and
I Heart Naptime Sundae Scoop

sewing rooms & storage

I re-adopted this sewing hobby only recently and still have a relatively manageable amount of supplies and scraps, but I'm getting impatient to move to a place with a spare room for all things sewy. Okay, well to ask for a "spare room" would be to ask for how much more in monthly rent? 


As it is, I'm stationed in my living room, which already serves dual function as my dining area, so when my dining table is covered in a sewing machine, tabletop ironing board and an explosion of pattern tissue, I'm subjected to cutting fabric on the floor and eating dinner on the couch and entertaining guests in... the bedroom? Um.

Then:

Right now:

This could be (and has been) worse, actually; last night everything in that garbage bag above (pillow stuffing, blue scallop scraps, piles of thread) was strewn across various surfaces as well.

I'm gonna distract myself from this awful mess by collecting photos of lovely sewing areas that belong to other people who clearly never touch a thing within them:

Hideable yet also displayable. Primary source: Better Homes and Gardens

Everything seems so tiny here. Secondary source: Truelock Equals Truelove

These people stand up to sew, and sit down to use their enormous 1990s computer monitor. Source: Super Ziper

You can't call yourself a true sewist until you have one of those headless ladies hanging around. Source: Saídos da Concha

Sewing shed. Lovely and rustic and only slightly claustrophobic. Source: Content in a Cottage 

Teach me how to use that sewing machine. Source: Home Klondike

They call this a minimalist sewing room, which seems like an oxymoron. Source:  Genuine Style

Yes, you can create a sewing room without using the color pink. Source: Country Living

Moral of the story: all fabric scraps should be lightweight cotton prints with equal size, yardage and color palette so they can be stacked like perfect little rainbows in your China cabinets. Seriously? I tried the neat little sweater-stacks on my closet shelves before and that failed by the second hour. This would be no different, and maybe worse.


This is more up my alley:

Maybe I should stick with my current style of throwing all my simultaneous sewing projects on the couch, because it seems neat & organized spaces annoy me. Sew on!