She's Crafty ... (as the Beastie Boys would say)

in

Tonight we went over to Curtis and Kathy's for dinner and some craftiness. Kathy was having some trouble with her sewing machine not working at 100% and we figured we could noodle over it for a bit. I had brought my old sewing machine and some accessories over, just in case we needed a control case to compare her machine's stitches to. When I opened the case, the machine itself greeted me with yellowed plastic, multi-colored tape markings of measurements long forgotten and a somewhat musty smell of projects long gone. But after taking the canned air to it and giving it some fresh thread, it stitched a perfect straight seam just like old times. I had forgotten how much I love my old sewing machine.

It was the first purchase I ever put on a credit card (if only I knew then how long it would take me to be free of credit card debt). I was a freshman in college and home for Thanksgiving or Christmas break. There was some group selling "home economics" sewing machines out of a hotel banquet room and my parents and I had gone to check it out. My father actually ended up being the expert on sewing machines as he had done most of the repairs and maintenance on Mom's cabinet model. He said it looked like a decent find and would hold up to my various projects. I can still remember standing there agonizing over spending the $150 on the machine (or was it $120? It seemed like a lot at the time). I'm still glad he convinced me to spend the extra $20 or so on the hard plastic case because it's the only reason I still know where the manual is and it's still in decent shape 12 years later.

I sewed almost all of my current medieval garb on that sewing machine. I've sewn leather cambok balls on that sewing machine. I sewed my first wedding dress on that sewing machine. We've been through a lot together. The plate on the bottom got loose so I had to tack it down with book binding tape (an odd combination of my medieval hobby and my life in the library at the time). And somehow over the last two years in storage all the plastic has turned the color of a heavy smoker's teeth. But for all its wear and tear it still runs like a dream.

I don't use it much anymore since I realized my computerized embroidery machine also makes a nice computerized sewing machine. But I don't think I'll ever want to get rid of it. Playing with my old sewing machine today reminded me of all the fun I used to have making new patterns and strange projects. I was talking to Rich last night about how I don't really play a lot of video games and don't share his talent and enthusiasm for them. I do, however, share a strong enthusiasm for crafting patterns out of nothing and solving the puzzles of how to turn not enough fabric into just the right outfit. So I think I'm going to try to use this as an impetus to get crafty again and remember all the joy I had from that.

I don't ask for much ...

in

I'm in an atrociously bad mood and am literally taking a break from work to write an entry. This is the exact sort of mood that would convince me to keep my bloggerific mouth shut and just wait til I'm in better spirits, but I've been on a bit of a roll lately so we'll see where this takes us. I've been on the edge of my seat waiting for each installment of how Mr. and Mrs. S met on Schnozzfest (who I found through the totally bad ass NaBloPoMo randomizer and hope it never goes away until I've found all the cool blogs it has to offer). Reading what "Schnozz" (is that what I should call her? Ms. Fest?) has chronicled has really gotten me thinking about how relationships start and also how they grow. I haven't had very many relationships in my short (HA!) life, but I feel like the one's I have had were worthwhile and not ones I would want to disown. In each of those relationships, I've noticed a few themes.

I don't trust anyone who doesn't listen to music and I couldn't sleep with someone who can't produce at least 10 quality artists for me to enjoy. Why would I give myself to a person who can't recognize that life (and sex) have a soundtrack? When starting a new relationship, I always wanted to sneak a peek at their vinyl/tape/cd/mp3 collection to know what I was getting into. That really is an area where both quality and quantity matter. I have found a way to get music into every room of our house (minus the bathroom, but give me time and I'll find a way) and it's as important to me as our utilities being paid.

I won't tolerate lies. I think I picked this up from my father, who is honest almost to a fault. My father is the man who told my mother he would like to take my mother out for dinner in thanks for all the meals she had cooked him while he was doing carpentry work at her house. When she told him that wasn't necessary, my 24 year old father replied, "Yes it is. I've never been on a date and I need the practice." How could she say no? I would rather hear that you don't like my meatloaf and have you own up to breaking any proverbial lamps than not feel like I can trust you. If you make up something or tell me what I want to hear, you imply that I'm too stupid to know better or don't deserve your respect to get the truth. I've had to learn how to handle this when dealing with Rich's family as many things are in shades of grey, but I take solace that Rich is up front with me and we just take the rest of the family with a grain of salt.

Communication is the sexiest part of any relationship (perhaps this is why I became a Communication Studies major in college). Tell me what you're happy about, sad about, worried about or really really really want and I'll hang on every word. Rich and I work in the same office and sleep in the same bed and yet still manage to have a long list of things to describe to each other in our "how was your day, sweetie?" recaps. I love the feeling of being on the same team while still being the president of each other's fan club. The person I'm sleeping with should be the first person I go to with my hopes and concerns (regardless of what those concerns are) and if not, we have no business fucking.

Well, after some ruminating, I'm feeling a bit better about the world. It's back to the mines for me.