Well the gauntlet has been thrown, laid down, slapped across my face or whatever it is one does with a gauntlet. Teri has morphed back into Martha Fly By and she's on the move - and pointing her finger at me "Take that! she says.". Well, I accept your clean kitchen challenge Miss Martha, and I raise you one dog bath. But tomorrow...I only got 2 1/2 hours sleep last night. I don't know what was wrong with me. Could have been that 3 hour rest I had yesterday afternoon, but I don't know for sure. I've been tired, tired, TIRED these last couple of days. It's like I've been drugged or something.
Last night I cut the pieces of a brand new pattern apart and after cleaning house today, I'll be sewing. Look out! Crysty's firing up the sewing machine. I know just enough about sewing to be dangerous. But I figure if I can get a pair of comfy pants and practice my sewing skills in the process, that can't be too bad. At the very least I'll end up with something I can sleep in, and hopefully my fingers won't get stitched in the process. I have done that before.
Actually, I'm an OK sewer (is that spelled right? I get images of a big drain pipe filled with stinky stuff). Oh well, I'm ok at sewing. I know and understand the basics, I can piece a pattern together and know what almost all of those little triangles and stars mean. I haven't got to sew in many years, and had I had the chance to practice any over the years, I'm sure I'd be quite good at this point. I've had much to much going on though to allow any time for it. I've still continued to gather large amounts of cloth. I have 20 yards of a silk linen blend I bought on clearance for a dollar a yard last year. Occasionally I grab my grandma and we head out to Wal-Mart to check out material and patterns.
My grandma is an awesome person. She has the same beautiful white hair that her mom had, only she keeps hers short. At 76 (or is she 77 now?) she can run rings around me in the house and yard keeping areas. By the time I call her between 8:00 and 9:00 this morning, she will already have her laundry and ironing finished for the day. She will most likely have mopped her floors already and if it's dry enough, have a couple pairs of pants with a seam ripped out for reworking while she sits in the swing on her porch talking to her cat. I will still be desperately sucking down coffee in hopes of getting both my eyes to open completely. She's a marvel. She has taken the time to teach each of her grandchildren, and several of her great-grandchildren how to sew. She has given me and several of my cousins sewing machines of our own and without pushing, she makes sure we don't forget that we have been taught. It's a dying tradition, learning from the elders of a family. I hope I will be able to pass on something like that to my own grandchildren.
It was my great-grandma that taught me to crochet. We'd spend hours sitting in the little rocking chairs in her living room with her gentle voice patiently guiding my fingers, never getting aggravated when it took me forever to grasp the concept of her instructions. My grandma is very much like her. I can remember sitting at my grate-grandma's side as she brushed her long white hair. It was down to her waist and hung like long fine strands of fluffy cotton down her back to her hips. She would brush it gently, then roll it into a neat little ball at the nape of her neck, toss a few pins in to hold it, and she was ready for her day. At night it was twisted into a long, beautiful braid. Now that I'm going gray (underneath all that haircolor at least) I'm glad to know at least it will be a pretty white when it finally goes. I'm not quite ready to give in to it yet though.
I've just come back from dropping my cow girl off at the horse farm for the day. I'm going to have another cup of coffee and see if I can't match Miss Martha Fly By on kitchen cleaning today.
Last night I cut the pieces of a brand new pattern apart and after cleaning house today, I'll be sewing. Look out! Crysty's firing up the sewing machine. I know just enough about sewing to be dangerous. But I figure if I can get a pair of comfy pants and practice my sewing skills in the process, that can't be too bad. At the very least I'll end up with something I can sleep in, and hopefully my fingers won't get stitched in the process. I have done that before.
Actually, I'm an OK sewer (is that spelled right? I get images of a big drain pipe filled with stinky stuff). Oh well, I'm ok at sewing. I know and understand the basics, I can piece a pattern together and know what almost all of those little triangles and stars mean. I haven't got to sew in many years, and had I had the chance to practice any over the years, I'm sure I'd be quite good at this point. I've had much to much going on though to allow any time for it. I've still continued to gather large amounts of cloth. I have 20 yards of a silk linen blend I bought on clearance for a dollar a yard last year. Occasionally I grab my grandma and we head out to Wal-Mart to check out material and patterns.
My grandma is an awesome person. She has the same beautiful white hair that her mom had, only she keeps hers short. At 76 (or is she 77 now?) she can run rings around me in the house and yard keeping areas. By the time I call her between 8:00 and 9:00 this morning, she will already have her laundry and ironing finished for the day. She will most likely have mopped her floors already and if it's dry enough, have a couple pairs of pants with a seam ripped out for reworking while she sits in the swing on her porch talking to her cat. I will still be desperately sucking down coffee in hopes of getting both my eyes to open completely. She's a marvel. She has taken the time to teach each of her grandchildren, and several of her great-grandchildren how to sew. She has given me and several of my cousins sewing machines of our own and without pushing, she makes sure we don't forget that we have been taught. It's a dying tradition, learning from the elders of a family. I hope I will be able to pass on something like that to my own grandchildren.
It was my great-grandma that taught me to crochet. We'd spend hours sitting in the little rocking chairs in her living room with her gentle voice patiently guiding my fingers, never getting aggravated when it took me forever to grasp the concept of her instructions. My grandma is very much like her. I can remember sitting at my grate-grandma's side as she brushed her long white hair. It was down to her waist and hung like long fine strands of fluffy cotton down her back to her hips. She would brush it gently, then roll it into a neat little ball at the nape of her neck, toss a few pins in to hold it, and she was ready for her day. At night it was twisted into a long, beautiful braid. Now that I'm going gray (underneath all that haircolor at least) I'm glad to know at least it will be a pretty white when it finally goes. I'm not quite ready to give in to it yet though.
I've just come back from dropping my cow girl off at the horse farm for the day. I'm going to have another cup of coffee and see if I can't match Miss Martha Fly By on kitchen cleaning today.
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