Yesterday my overworked Elan sewing machine started making s whiney kind of noise I have never heard before. It needs to be serviced.
DH does my machine service, which is a good thing, and a bad thing.
Good thing because he knows what he is doing, and it is much less costly.
Bad thing because he frequently gets distracted and hops from one "job" to another, not really finishing any of them.
But he WILL finish the Elna, if only to shut me up. I will nag him like a Fishwife until it is ready to sew again.
After all, there are quilts that must be stitched, right?! And Stockings that must be made for the deployed soldiers, right?! And Christmas gifts to be made, right?!
Ah, yes, I will harangue in my best Fishmonger's way and get my Elna back.
"She" and I have spent many long hours together over the past 12 years, and we are good friends. Together we have made over a thousand quilts, mended clothing, put together placemats and wall hangings, stitched up passport holders, pot holders, table runners and curtains. The list could go on and on.
My knee is still touchy about walking very far, so heading out for the wonderful nature/health walks is out.
The walks are very important to me. I love being outdoors, and love the meditative release the walking gives me. I solve all kinds of supposed problems during those walks, and Winsten and I appreciate nature's surprises found along the way.
Sometimes I have even caught myself humming as the road passes under my feet.
Let me tell you about my humming. Actually, I will tell you about my singing.
A long time ago (not long enough, because I still remember!), I was married to a different man. We will call him Durwood. Durwood is a very good description of what was in his head.
Anyway, Durwood and his family loved to go camping. Of course, they would take the women and kids so they would have someone to do all the work while they enjoyed the great outdoors, fish and do music.
We women and children set up the tents, unloaded the vehicles, cooked all the food, cleaned up afterward, gathered wood and made sure the campfire was appropriately rock and stone walled in.
We did all this AFTER we had done all the grocery shopping, pre-cooking and baking, got all the gear together and packed up, made sure the medicine chest was hauled into the car, selected His Majesty's clothing and packed that, and then loaded up the car, making sure all the kids were accounted for.
We would be stuffed in the car among all the baggage and supplies, while HM always did the driving, which was the least crowded place in the vehicle.
Anyway, about my singing.
One night they got out their guitars, sent the kids out Snipe Hunting, and proceeded to play music. It was very nice to listen to music under the sighing of the wind through the trees while the stars twinkled in amusement.
It was his brother, David's, birthday. I made the stupid cake for it before we left, and everyone gulped it down without comment.
While we were all sitting round the campfire, they started to sing "Happy Birthday" to David. I joined in.
I am singing away with gusto (which is the way Happy Birthday should be sung) when I realized I was singing alone. The music had stopped. They were all looking at me, and not in an admiring way, either!
Then Durwood lowered the bomb. He sarcastically said "Sandy, just MOUTH the words. Your singing is driving us off key."
NO, I did NOT bury his face in the campfire, although I must admit I thought of it!
That ended me singing for a very long time.......years, in fact.
By now you have probably also figured out why I am not married to Durwood any more. Which is a good thing! Since dumping HIM, my life has improved thousands fold.
Anyway, I am pouty today because my quilting has to be put off, and I can't go walking to gather my meandering thoughts.
What to DO??? I mean, is there really LIFE without Elna and walking???
Huh? Did I just hear Ms. Smarmy say "clean house"? Did Miss Goodytwoshoes just chime her nasty little comment "there's LOTS of housework to get caught up with!"?
Housework? HOUSEWORK??? Is that as far as their pebble sized brains can take them??
Haven't I tried to teach them "Quilting Forever, Housework Whenever"? They are slow learners, those two.
I happen to be very emotionally close ot my dust bunnies. they all have their own names and resting places. They are not loud or boisterous, and do not interrupt with any needs of their own. And they don't eat much either.
Ms. Smarmy points to what SHE calls "cobwebs". Stupid person! Those are NOT cobwebs!!! They are DREAMCATCHERS, for Pete's sake! They do a great service in separating the good dreams from the bad. They add character to otherwise boring ceilings. They are gossamere stalacmites!
Then Ms. Goodytwoshoes points to the furniture. She calls it dust. Moron!
That is NOT dust! It is simply message pads for those who cannot find paper and pencil.
I mean, honestly! these two just don't get it. They think life is all about cleanliness and orderliness. It isn't.
Life is all about breaking all the rules, trying scary things at least once, laughing till I pee and snort. Grabbing challenges I don't believe I can accomplish only to find that I am my own hero! Life is taking a different path, just because it is there and I haven't been on it yet. It doesn't matter if I color outside the lines or match my outfits. It doesn't matter if I don't put on make-up or change clothes before I run into town for some groceries. It only matters that I GO!
So now I can sing as well as Barbra Strisand, dance as well as Cyd Charrise, and am as beautiful as Audrey Hepburn.
Is there anything else?