My 17-year-old sewing machine finally bit the dust. I was able to coax it through the kiddos' halloween costumes by threats of violence and much muttering and cursing under my breath. Anyone who has been around here for more than a minute or two knows how much I use and rely on my sewing machine.
My brave and wonderful husband waded into the Joann's Black Friday crowd at 7 this morning to pick this up. Just remember...not all heros wear capes!
(Funny little side note...he purchased the previous machine as well. Most of our friends then wouldn't have placed bets on us making it through the weekend, let alone outliving a sewing machine. Quite a delight to prove them all wrong.)
As I pulled it out of the box a wave of memories washed over me. This is so much like the machine my mom sewed on for years...it followed us around Africa and back again. I learned how to sew sitting beside her on a stool. Watching. She taught me how to carefully snip the inside of a curve so it wouldn't bunch when turned right side out. How to always stitch two lines of a basting stitch for a gather so if one broke, there would be another. Then, sitting at the machine on my own and, ever so proudly, sewing clothes I had designed for our Barbies. Using this machine makes me feel closer to her, almost like I'm 10 years old again and she's sitting beside me telling me I'm doing just fine. Funny things, memories.
Men/husbands/boyfriends/significant others, my advice during this gift giving season and beyond: Listen, observe. Pay no attention to what ads and stores and co-workers tell you you should give. Pay attention to the one you're giving it to. I can guarantee the gratefulness will be far greater for it.