That may come as a great surprise to many but give me a machine and I will sew up a storm. The hand work can go to someone else.
I was trained as a child to embroider and piece quilts but never liked it. My stitches were like a drunken path. I did discover crochet and made rugs,scarves and afghans. There is where the joy lay, it moved faster and I did not have to thread a needle.
I have sewn many things in my lifetime including my finger with an old treadle sewing machine. When the girls were small I would lay them down on material and cut around them to make a pattern. It worked well. I have made Halloween costumes, play costumes and even sewed some hunting items that hubby would see in a magazine and ask me to make...just from the picture. I did it. I have sewn Pioneer Dresses for our yearly contest, I have made curtains and dog clothes. All with a machine.
Quilting was also something I was trained to do and the beauty of them was amazing but not when I did it. My goal was to enlarge the pattern and make fewer blocks, all by machine. I have hand quilted on a quilting frame and hand tacked many quilts. Not something I do to relax.
Now give me a pattern or not, it doesn't really matter and I will whip out a quilt top in a day...and it will be artistic and interesting and one of a kind. I made five home made quilts one year for my daughter's friends when they graduated high school. I also made all "new" seat covers for my daughter's car using old jeans. I make purses and yard quilts from old jeans with out one hand stitch.
Neither one of my girls sew. They have shown me pictures of curtains, balloon valances and drapes and asked me to make them...I did...all by machine.
Tonight I had to sew by hand, ugh, but it was a good thing. A patch has been hand sewn for the daughter that is training in the nursing field. I could not find a thimble, I could not see well to thread the needle, I believe I was bleeding when I finished but the patch in on. I must teach them to sew!
Sewing was a different thing for Mom and Grandma. They had such great pleasure piecing a quilt and such beautiful quilts they were. All their stitches were perfect, all the same length and in a perfectly straight line. Amazing. Mom sewed all my dresses from the flour sacks when I was small and I still remember how proud I was of them. Grandma's patching should be in a museum!
All three of us, my sisters and I, sewed our own clothes for school. In fact, I remember sewing some elephant leg pants with a sailor top, complete with tie the night they first walked on the moon.
Give me a glue gun, staple gun, duct tape and I can build anything but please, don't make me hand sew one single item.
I don't sew much any more. It is not a real joy of mine but it is a good talent to have.
I will paint, I will write, I will draw, I will sew by machine, I will crochet and create with saws, hammers, drills, and dremils but please, never make me sew.
...and all this came out because I sewed one patch by hand.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
At The Farm Meets Cow Patty Surprise
I am in my office, wishing I was any other place, and in walks a beautiful women. She says, I'm looking for Gail. I said, That's me, how can I help you. Now all kinds of things are running through my mind, is this an inspector, an auditor or just someone who has a complaint...I tremble a little inside.
She tells me her name and says, get around here and give me a hug. I did just that, and not just once, we kept hugging and smiling and laughing. Her husband took pictures of us as we said pizza, cheese and I said let's get this over with. I wonder if hubby had a wide angle lens to fit me in but he managed. I can imagine these shots, me a frumpy, dumpy, pudgy by the cover girl of Cow Patty Surprise.
I remembered later I had my camera in my purse and that's when I kicked myself.
Mr and Mrs Nezzy were returning from a personal trip and the fact that she took the time to look me up is so amazing. Her trip had not been an easy one.
Her heart shined through as she showed me pictures of Angel, a girl from her church who is fighting cancer. I saw pictures of her beautiful grand children but we had little time to share. They were exhausted from their return trip, emotionally and physically and still had the long trip home ahead of them.
We sometimes think, we may not truly know the people who we visit in blogdom, but Nezzy was the jewel I had imagined. Her love of God, and people and farming showed through in our short visit. The truth of Nezzy is she is her sweet, awesome self on and off her blog.
Want to meant a wonderful person and hear some great stories, visit Nezzy. I can promise you will not be disappointed.
Thank you, Nezzy for the wonderful gift of your visit.
You and your family are in my prayers tonight and always.
Progress...
Elizabeth street would never be the same, in fact, it would probably be renamed after its destruction by the hulking pieces of equipment. Tonight, the last night, for these three houses to stand, the equipment stood still and silent while the houses spoke.
Three houses, side by side, were the only evidence of a once affluent neighborhood from the late nineteenth century. One by one the houses had fallen to fire, vandalism and natural forces. No one seemed to care...but me.
I came to visit the past and would walk through the rooms in the unnatural quiet that seemed to surround these houses, but I could hear. I could still hear the laughter in the kitchen as the children had an early supper with the servants. The happiness traveled through the tips of my fingers, up my arm and to my heart when I touched the old broken kitchen table. There was a lot of love here.
The large living area with an elegant chandelier still in place, echoed with laughter and music. I could feel harmony, friendship and yes, even love, when I touched the fireplace stone still standing. The very bones of this house shouted happiness through every wall I touched.
In the second house, I felt a sadness so deep and so intense, it took my breath. This home had been childless, I could sense it...in the stair banister and in the empty room that could have been a nursery. The only thing that remained was a small carved horse, smaller than my hand, sitting, forgotten in a corner because its purpose in creation no longer mattered to the person who had carved it.
The architecture in this house was amazing, the details intricate, showcasing the talent of the craftsman. I could not linger long, the sadness had a way of seeping into me, if I stayed, I felt I would not find the strength to leave.
The third house was the grandest of all, surrounding by ancient oak trees that no one could reach around, the house set far from the street's edge, as if to say, I want no visitors. I traveled the drive, broken brick, some up heaved by more than a century of weather and disuse, sprouted small trees that in another few years would have completely blocked the house from sight.
The outside seemed oppressive, the inside was worse. I could not breath, the fear overcame me as I heard the shouts of a man and the quiet whimpers of a woman from just opening the door to enter. I swear I could smell bourbon and cigars in the air. I started to climb the stairs but the banister produced such sadness, fear, and menacing cruelty, I returned quickly to outside.
This was one house I would not miss.
I had said my farewells to the old homes.
The next morning, from afar, I watched as all the iron monsters roared to life and began their destruction. It took only two days to remove the houses, leaving only the scarred ground to mark their existence.
I wondered if the hearts of the houses were destroyed too or if you could walk the ground and still sense the life that once lived there.
Tomorrow, I would see.
Three houses, side by side, were the only evidence of a once affluent neighborhood from the late nineteenth century. One by one the houses had fallen to fire, vandalism and natural forces. No one seemed to care...but me.
I came to visit the past and would walk through the rooms in the unnatural quiet that seemed to surround these houses, but I could hear. I could still hear the laughter in the kitchen as the children had an early supper with the servants. The happiness traveled through the tips of my fingers, up my arm and to my heart when I touched the old broken kitchen table. There was a lot of love here.
The large living area with an elegant chandelier still in place, echoed with laughter and music. I could feel harmony, friendship and yes, even love, when I touched the fireplace stone still standing. The very bones of this house shouted happiness through every wall I touched.
In the second house, I felt a sadness so deep and so intense, it took my breath. This home had been childless, I could sense it...in the stair banister and in the empty room that could have been a nursery. The only thing that remained was a small carved horse, smaller than my hand, sitting, forgotten in a corner because its purpose in creation no longer mattered to the person who had carved it.
The architecture in this house was amazing, the details intricate, showcasing the talent of the craftsman. I could not linger long, the sadness had a way of seeping into me, if I stayed, I felt I would not find the strength to leave.
The third house was the grandest of all, surrounding by ancient oak trees that no one could reach around, the house set far from the street's edge, as if to say, I want no visitors. I traveled the drive, broken brick, some up heaved by more than a century of weather and disuse, sprouted small trees that in another few years would have completely blocked the house from sight.
The outside seemed oppressive, the inside was worse. I could not breath, the fear overcame me as I heard the shouts of a man and the quiet whimpers of a woman from just opening the door to enter. I swear I could smell bourbon and cigars in the air. I started to climb the stairs but the banister produced such sadness, fear, and menacing cruelty, I returned quickly to outside.
This was one house I would not miss.
I had said my farewells to the old homes.
The next morning, from afar, I watched as all the iron monsters roared to life and began their destruction. It took only two days to remove the houses, leaving only the scarred ground to mark their existence.
I wondered if the hearts of the houses were destroyed too or if you could walk the ground and still sense the life that once lived there.
Tomorrow, I would see.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Phobias and Phears
My recent tarantula post made me think about phobias, an irrational, intense and persistent fear of certain situations, activities, things, animals or people.
We all have something that just twists our insides, makes us break out in a cold sweat or freezes us in fear like a deer in headlights. Some have fear of flying as I read on a recent post and some have fear of spiders as I read in my comments. We all have fears, many seem irrational to us but for the people who experience them, they are very real.
I knew a man who was afraid of the cotton in the top of medicine bottles. He could not remove it, could not touch it, and you could chase him a mile with a cotton ball.
I have had two fears in my life, irrational but real.
I did not know this had a lasting impression on me until two years later when my doctor mentioned I needed a shot. I immediately crawled to the corner and was screaming, no shots! NO SHOTS!
I used to give our animals shots and discovered I could no longer even touch a needle. This changes your whole world, no dentists, no doctors, no vaccinations for the animals...I had to do something so I took the bull by the horns. I started by looking at the needle, forcing myself to hold it. I worked on this for months to over come it. At the dentist, I explained and he was very careful to warn me and keep the needle out of sight. It took me almost three years to over come this so I know how crippling phobias can be.
My children grew and knew of my fear. As young teens, they and my nephew captured a scorpion and hot glued him in a jar lid. It was gift to help overcome my fears. I also have been presented with scorpion paperweights.
It was a long haul but I have over come this one too. My heart still speeds up, but I can kill them now and not run like a striped ape when I see one.
What are your fears and phobias? Do you actively try to over come them and how?
We all have something that just twists our insides, makes us break out in a cold sweat or freezes us in fear like a deer in headlights. Some have fear of flying as I read on a recent post and some have fear of spiders as I read in my comments. We all have fears, many seem irrational to us but for the people who experience them, they are very real.
I knew a man who was afraid of the cotton in the top of medicine bottles. He could not remove it, could not touch it, and you could chase him a mile with a cotton ball.
I have had two fears in my life, irrational but real.
One was needles. This was not a problem before my surgery. I could take a shot with the best of them. The night following my surgery, I got shots, lots of them, so many in fact, my husband stood between the nurse and me and said no more shots. We later discovered I was not only receiving my shots but also those of another patient. All I remembered was white uniforms and the needles.
I did not know this had a lasting impression on me until two years later when my doctor mentioned I needed a shot. I immediately crawled to the corner and was screaming, no shots! NO SHOTS!
I used to give our animals shots and discovered I could no longer even touch a needle. This changes your whole world, no dentists, no doctors, no vaccinations for the animals...I had to do something so I took the bull by the horns. I started by looking at the needle, forcing myself to hold it. I worked on this for months to over come it. At the dentist, I explained and he was very careful to warn me and keep the needle out of sight. It took me almost three years to over come this so I know how crippling phobias can be.
My second phobia is scorpions. I stepped on one as a small child. I didn't know I had this fear until I saw one in the floor after I was married. I climbed on a chair and was hollering like the woman in the cartoons when she sees a mouse. The pain of the sting I had when I was a child returned, shooting from foot to hip.
I kept this fear for a very long time. Hubby could get me to do anything if he had a scorpion! (He's just a tad ornery, like me)My children grew and knew of my fear. As young teens, they and my nephew captured a scorpion and hot glued him in a jar lid. It was gift to help overcome my fears. I also have been presented with scorpion paperweights.
It was a long haul but I have over come this one too. My heart still speeds up, but I can kill them now and not run like a striped ape when I see one.
What are your fears and phobias? Do you actively try to over come them and how?
I look forward to your answers.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Butterflies
A sadness overcomes me,
with the fall butterflies.
There is a difference from the joy of summer butterflies.
I love the beauty they share,
but knowing these are the last of the last for the year,
causes me to mourn the passing of summer.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Tarantula Alert!
A recent siting caused much excitement At The Farm. As the cool weather arrives, it is not unusual to see a tarantula heading for winter cover.
They weren't very concerned.
After a complete inspection,
they allowed it to go on its way
Marcy followed, camera ready
and got this amazing shot of the fangs.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Time Travel
About twenty years ago, I was training in Little Rock. It required a week, thus extended motel stay so this outside person was a little antsy. You can only read so much and watch so much tv before the outside calls you. I had been cautioned not to leave the motel after dark.
Looking out the window, I noticed a gentleman walking up and down behind the vehicles. Called security, no result. I continued to watch him, you can tell when someone is up to no good. He pulled his truck in and the back was full of spare tires.
Being a trusting person, I walked out and talked to the guy...he pretended to check his oil. Early in our marriage, we could get tires with rims cheaper than we could buy a new tire so I thought this must be the case. I told him to have a good evening...and I secretly watched.
The guys was stealing every one's truck spare tires!!!!! He had walked down the line, let all the tires to the ground and then came with his vehicle and threw the stolen tires in.
I called security again...same result, no show.
I walked down to my truck, still in my tie-dyed pjs, removed my tire iron from the truck and watched. He saw me and started to drive off.
I chased him! Yes, barefooted, in pjs and with a tire iron in my hand. His license plate is mud-covered. I have the type and make of his truck. I know how the hotel lot is laid out so I know there is only one way out. I turn to cut him off at the pass.
As he rounds the corner, I reach the same spot. He is looking straight ahead. I slap the window of the driver's side and the look on his face was priceless!!! He sped off with a slightly surprised, maybe a little scared look on his face.
I go into the office of the motel, the security guard is drinking coffee...and while they look surprised at the site of me, they did call the police...maybe they were scared of me.
The police arrived, argued with my description of the thief...they tried to make him black, he was not. I talked to the man, I chased him, I knew the brand of his jeans!
To shorten my story, my spare tire was stolen along with all the trucks there. The police did nothing except say, Don't worry, lady, he won't be back tonight. He knows there's a crazy lady staying here.
What memories do a flat tire evoke for you????
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