slow it down...

Frustration.  That is what I am feeling right now.  I need to make a trip to the store, I decided I could use what I had on hand and finish up a little quilt in no time.  I was being LAZY!  Oh yeah and cheap.  I mean I already had the thread, I could make it work. 

Lesson learned... go to the stupid store.  The 30 minutes of quilting, is now on the second hour of removing stitches.  They look horrible on the back.  The front, looks freaking fantastic.  The back... Oh my goodness. In a short while, I will head down to tear out more of the stitching, I hope I'm almost finished, it's tedious and super frustrating.

I'm questioning why I bother to take classes if I am not going to use the knowledge I have acquired. Seems so senseless.  Oh yeah, it is. I learned how to prevent the very things I am dealing with, if only...

I am not pressed for time now, only self-imposed time limits. That and Hubs' meal schedule.  I had no reason to rush.  Yet, I did anyhow. And now I am paying the price.  Serves me right. 

I still have over 4 weeks before the monkey wrench in my plans, yet here I am acting like it's tomorrow. Oh Lord! I seriously need to address my time issues. Anyone else do that to themselves? I am creating a chaotic storm where one does not exist.  Time is not as linear as we want to believe and we can mentally make it as long or short as we believe.  Don't agree?  How fast does the weekend go?  How long is the wait to a vacation or special event?  Enough said!

I have also developed another addiction during this season of life.  

Featherweights.  

hello Sophia ❤

My beautiful Sophia is such a joy to use now that I am not fighting with her over and over again, simply due to my ignorance, that I decided Hubs needed his own.  Not that I wasn't going to share, I would.  But if he is going to help with our business we shouldn't be fighting over using the same machine - and I know we will.   So the search began.

hunting featherweights is serious business

I absolutely refuse to log into Ebay, at this point.  I was looking for the 1952 for Hubs and this 1950 Centennial kept drawing me back.  It looks to be in incredible shape, just plain dirty.  It was selling for a stupid low price and I was absolutely dying to get my hands on it. Hubs agreed and it will be here on Sunday.  He didn't really care too much that his was not his birth year. I'd forgotten that I had already bid on another one a few days before (no one seems interested in bidding against me - so I may end up with a 1952 after all).  And then I have to decide if I am willing to part with one. I mean do we really need 3 featherweight machines? Don't answer!

My searching didn't end there, my sister-in-law has been wanting one forever... so the search began for a 1948.  It's odd, each one I have gotten I knew when I saw them they were the one I would get.  I was outbid on a total of 4 in a week.  I was getting a bit down.  Seems the 1948's are very much sought after and most have been snatched up and given complete make overs.  Leading to prices well over $1200.  These are incredible machines, but hey... that is far to rich for my blood. 

Late Sunday evening, I was watching the last one in my current list.  I simply knew it had to be her's.  I was over the moon excited to messenger as soon as it closed that she was now the proud owner of a 1948 featherweight. She already had her name picked out, so Lucille (after their grandmother) will be arriving on Friday.  Hubs and I will work together to get her completely serviced, make sure her belt and light are in perfect condition before delivering that sweet baby to her Momma!!  

It is such a joy to bring something old back into service. I love my vintage machines, they are absolute work horses. 

And yet somewhere in this mix of chaos, I am also trying to get items ready for my Etsy shop.  I have finally made the decision (years in the making) that it is time to bring it to life. It will have quite an eclectic mix of treasures, because that is who I am.  Hubs is even going to start working on items for it. 

My knee decided I was evidently moving too fast with some of my plans, so the sewing lessons (at least for pure beginners) and the long arm quilting are going to have to wait a bit.  At least until I am walking better. I guess the universe is working on helping me to slow down and sort out the chaos around me.  Let's also take a moment to acknowledge that it is self induced chaos. 

I am also in the process of putting together a recovery project box.  Knowing for a brief moment I will not be as mobile as I want to be, I am focusing on filling it with things that require a bit less movement.  My block of the month's are going in there for one, it's killing me - as I am excited to see them finished - I know they are strictly hand work that I can do while healing. 

Maybe it is simply human nature to want to do it all immediately?  I don't know, but I seem to be that person! 

It's time to get with it. I want to get most of it torn out so I can start fresh after I get back from the stores. I want to run all my errands early, I'm not a fan of being out when things get busy and there appears to be a storm rolling in, it's a strange green outside my window. 

crazier colors by the day

Take care everyone!  And remember to slow it down, at least a bit.  No sense rushing through life.  

just do it...

It's been a few moments.  I had to step away, retreat into the silence and think.  I needed to process all the new information and be okay with the steps forward.  I've been dealing with some extreme pain in my knees, particularly the left for years.  It has gotten progressively worse, to the point of not being able to stand for long, walking being such a painful experience that I haven't even tried.  

I've now been under the care of three different orthopedists.  The first one told me years ago I might be able to treat it with a partial replacement. The stubbornness inside of me refused to be okay with it. We went very conservative in the treatment and it seemed to work for a year or so. At 18 months in, I had to have another injections but that held for quite some time.  I felt I was winning the battle. 

I'd taken up walking again.  Knowing that there was no way I would ever run - as if! And was managing a minimum of 5 - 10 miles a day.  I was in heaven.  It was my peaceful time, my time to drift off into my own thoughts. Thanksgiving of 2019, pretty much was the major turning point.  Since my questionable decision - which I loved doing by the way - to participate in a Turkey Trot in Little Rock, I have battled increasing pain and the inability to participate in things that bring me joy. 

I've consistently seen my previous doctor, and done everything he's asked, only to have the knee feel worse than before.  Hubs has been harassing me (yes I said it) to finally quit being stubborn and go see his doc.  The one that basically saved his life. 

Before I went I knew what he was going to say.  I had already been told it.  On a very deep level I was hoping that seeing a world renown doc would change it.  That he would magically find something the rest missed. 

Nope.  

The answer I was hoping for was not going to happen.  Instead, I was asked when I had broken my left leg at the knee area (again - for the third time) - I have never broken my leg.  I am a pure klutz and fall often.  I am probably the most unsure-footed creature the good Lord put on this planet.  But I have never broken my leg. Toes, wrist, fingers, nose... of course who hasn't.  But a limb, nope I would seriously remember that. 

Anyhow, I've had to come to terms that the only hope to make the pain that stops me from doing things 90% of the time stop, is to have a total knee replacement.  It's now too far gone to do a partial. 

Oh, trust me, I will probably be trying to talk myself out of it for the next six weeks, yikes closer to five weeks.  I will do everything to convince myself that following all the directions I have been given and taking the vitamins etc will somehow miraculously heal it. 

Expect to hear me say that a few dozen times at least. 

It's been a week, relatively pain-free. I keep trying to convince myself that it will last, I have been resting, I have been avoiding anything that causes pain.  I have been doing everything I can think of.  But Doc is right and so is Hubs (yes I said that also) if I don't do this, I can relegate myself to living a part of my life, to always being on the sideline and to having the bones wear down to the point that even the surgery will have limited ability to offer relief. 

I don't want to do this.  I am not looking forward to it at all.  But... I simply don't want to continue living less than.  

I have huge plans, and I need to be pain-free for those to happen.  Or at least pain minimized.  I need to be flexible, able to stand, have the ability to bend my legs without extreme pain.  I need to be able to climb stairs. Right now, none of this is really a thing for me. 

Unless something throws a monkey wrench into my world, my birthday present to myself isn't going to be my longarm (oh I am still getting it but it will be later in the year).  It's going to be a brand new knee.  This year has been a challenge for me.  It has forced me to deal with many things that I am really not happy nor comfortable with. It has stretched my heart, my mind, my change capacity and it has forced me to face a lot of fears. 

I know that I will be stronger for it, but I am still going to fight against the inevitable. 

I spent the past few days in absolute anger and denial.  Pouting is probably a good word for it. Hubs and I even ran away. A quick trip south to enjoy the part of my visit I missed last week. 

Although I also bought all the vitamins Doc wants me taking to insure I am strong and healthy going into surgery.  I've started eating like he wants me to eat and I have mentally been preparing myself.  

In fact the quirky side of me is already planning my tattoo for once it heals.  

The realistic side of me is starting to prioritize my sewing projects and chores into silo's.  Things that require full mobility, things that can be modified and things that I can do easily while not so mobile. I am learning everything I can learn so that I will have the smoothest possible healing and return to function. 

Sweet Hubs even said he will build me a small table so I can continue to sew, he's precious!  I don't intend to be down that long.  Just saying!

I am not sure how much I will be writing this coming month.  I have so much I need to focus on.  So much that needs my attention.  Things that have to be organized and lined up for the month following the replacement.  And I need to find a weekend to do at least one more float trip before I am done for the season.  

I think I am mentally okay, we'll see.  Now to get as physically okay as possible.  I have an exercise that I now have to do 15 minutes an hour.  Do you realize how fast time flies when you have to do 15 minutes of an exercise every hour?  It's insane. 

Time to get busy...

stuck...

Currently finding myself in that weird space, the one where there is so much that you want to accomplish that you cannot move forward. I am spinning and feeling twisted.  

It's not a bad thing, it is definitely something I completely recognize about myself. I used to feel it a lot in my old job, when there were several major deadlines looming with the stress and challenge level high. It was never about my ability to complete the task, it is almost always about indecision paralyzation. I think at some level all of us experience from time to time.  I know my triggers and I am well aware of how they effect me. 

I currently have about 7 projects that I need to either complete or start.  Maybe more if I am honest.  And I am feeling absolutely frozen.  Which one to tackle, what order, which has the shortest deadline (ummm, right now, none), etc. I am allowing everything and it's brother to distract me. 

Go out to lunch?  Sure, that will take most of the day right? Doctor's appointment?  I need a few hours to prep for that 15 minute drive... don't I? 

I want to complete it all.  I am anxious to start, to complete, to do.  But I find myself frozen.  Without a path forward, because of indecision. 

It isn't just about projects, it happens to me with all changes, with all situations.  I can end up in turmoil over dinner sometimes.  And don't get me started about planting a garden or a painting project. 

seriously even my hydranga is confused
I mean, pink or purple?

I envy the people that always seem to know what they are doing, when to accomplish it, how much time and effort the project or activity will take. 

Here's the kicker.  I do this to myself.  I also know exactly how to fix it.  Yet I will continue to create chaos for myself for a bit longer.  Then I will make a list of everything that needs completion.  And I will simply start. 

I think for most people that simply starting is the hardest part.  So instead we sit and stew, we worry, we feel frozen. We wait for the appropriate time to begin without interruptions, without distractions, that perfect moment and time.  Failing to realize that perfect moment in time is when you simply begin. 

For me it is also a fear of failure.  I hate to fail at anything! So I stall, I drag my feet, I live in a world of excuses and distractions to avoid taking that chance. I do and don't understand why I am like that.  I know my daddy always wanted his girls to be perfect, but oddly, other than school work, I never felt pressured to be someone I'm not. Look at society, it's always pushing perfection.  I think the external forces and the fear of failure make me question my abilities. 

The not good enough factor, the internal messaging to stay in mediocrity to avoid the shame of failure. When the truth is that each of us is a bright shining star.  Maybe not in everything, heck, no maybe's about it.  Definitely not in everything.  Yet inside all of us are talents, sparks, gifts to share with the world if we become brave enough to put them out there on display. 

I have loved to write since I was a little girl.  I was a voracious reader, I could lose myself for days and read anything I could get my hands on. Somewhere along the line, someone criticized my writing and I stopped. They told me that I could never write, that I didn't have the skill.  Part of me still believes that person.  I still hears those words.  Is my grammar perfect?  No.  Do I use perfect sentence structure?  Of course not.  Is my writing great, probably not.  Is it great for me?  YES!  It's an outlet for my voice.  It's a way to organize my thoughts and dreams.  I write for me. 

When Hubs encouraged me to start writing I made a decision, it would always be for me.  That is why it is named the way it is.  B'longab - because it belongs to B. A play on words from a movie he used to watch. I had people ask me if it was going to be an instructional blog, was I going to teach or share things for people to use.  No, I don't think so.  Could I do one about quite a few different things, yes, I've toyed with it a few times.  I just don't want to. Writing takes time, time I would rather spend doing the things.

I truly do write whatever moves me. And also to prove to myself that the person that dimmed my fire for writing a long time ago was wrong.  That I can write. How good is entirely another topic all together. 

I guess what I am saying is, I also have the ability to follow other dreams and allowing myself to get wrapped up in indecision paralyzation is not going to get me there.  If you read this blog, thank you.  And also bless you, because you are definitely sitting ring side to the chaos that swirls in my head. 

This morning I took the first step to unraveling the twisting going on. I hung my adventure sign on my door.  I had really spiraled when I inadvertently called my sewing room my office. The name office, made it all feel official.  And the officialness of it was what caused the momentary panic. And paralyzation. 

Like my tattoo on my ankle says "what if I fail, but oh my darling what if you fly?".  Just like failure is always an option, so is success.  And the definition of that success is only defined by me.  So what is causing this insanity?  Oh yeah, me...

In a few short moments I am going up to my "office" formally known as my sewing room.  I am going to tidy it up, it's a bit cluttered right now, just like my mind.  I am going to stage my projects, I am going to make a formal list (it's time) and I am going to focus.  

I fell in love with a t-shirt a few weeks ago.  I was talking with my sister about it, that girl has some crazy skill with her Cricut and she made me the vinyl for it.  In typical me fashion I could not decide on the type of shirt I wanted it on.  So she handed it to me with directions for completion once I picked it out.  I finally found the shirt I wanted, sort of, ended up getting way to big a size, but hey... it's definitely cozy! It describes my world, it is where I am and where I am loving being. 

Maybe that's part of the challenge.  For the first time ever I have been given the freedom to live my best life.  To do the things that bring me joy and happiness and like a kid in a candy shop I simply can't choose. 

I finished the shirt, I love it!  It makes me smile.  Just like my projects bring me joy and happiness. 

Sweet sleeping Hubs helped make
and bottle my wine!

Guess what, it's truly okay to have it all and do it all and bounce and be free!

Now... which one first???

after the storms...

Last week was absolutely miserable here in the mid-west.  The heat is tolerable in most instances, but the humidity.  It's just stupid.  It is also usually a harbinger of big storms heading our way. I honestly question if mercury retrograde just wanted a huge build up to complete it's cycle. 

On Saturday night as we headed out to have dinner with our two oldest girls (Hubs' very first with his oldest) the sky finally decided we had suffered enough! The heat and humidity were so heavy even breathing was uncomfortable, all that anyone wanted was to be inside with air conditioning set on freezer!!  Throughout the day it had been getting a bit more ominous outside.  

As the wind picked up blowing the hot humid air around, it was not a welcome relief.  The only thing worse that stagnant humid air is moving humid air.  The dampness surrounds you, everything feels wet and sticky.  You could feel it coming, and all you could do was hope it would break the heat and humidity. 

The clouds were deep and heavy, it was going to be a gully washer. It didn't disappoint.  The lightning display was spectacular and standing outside at the end of the evening with Hubs' oldest we were watching the sky light up in a way that looked like it was coming from the ground up in a thousand different lines.  It was intense. 

Sunday dawned so much calmer and cooler.  We were even able to get our float trip in with the girl.  First time I think we've ever done something with just her since the grands were born.  It was breezy and comfortable.  We both enjoyed having time to spend one on one with her.  

That wind stayed powerful though.  All day Sunday and Monday the wind just roared around us.  

It was not like tornado weather, no vortexes of wind, just powerful enough that branches were ripped off of trees and the treetop garden suffered a bit.  We lost a few branches from one of the largest tomato plants and from the red chili peppers.  The beans look like they will be okay, but they definitely suffered some wind damage. 

Today, I am sitting here enjoying the sunshine through the leaves, wrapped in a sweater, because the heat left. In a big way!  Last week's heat index was well over 100 degrees. This morning it is a cool 50 degrees, as a temperature shift, that is pretty darn dramatic. 

I don't do well when it's hot. It zaps my energy faster than one can imagine. A heat filled environment can literally make me want to curl up in a ball and refuse to do anything. Honestly, that pretty much described Friday and Saturday.  I wanted to blame the pain in my leg, the exhaustion from my adventure with the dragon, plain laziness (as I didn't do a single chore) any and everything was the target of my displeasure and exhaustion those two days.  Truth is, it was mostly the heat. 

As the temperatures have dropped to human level, not reptile, I've had far more energy and desire to be part of life.  My chores are almost caught up. I've been in my "office" sewing, cleaning and enjoying (yeah that literally slipped out of my mouth yesterday at breakfast).  My creativity is back and I am ready to tackle life. Shoot, I've even planned dinner, Hubs is going to be surprised!  Now I just need to set an alarm so I remember to cook it.  

I often forget how we as humans are so much a part of our entire environment. When it's hot and fussy outside, chances are it's hot and fussy inside too.  Saturday my sweet hubs was definitely sporting his grizzly bear suit, not his usual teddy bear one.  

I felt so terrible for the pharmacist and the barista.  That raging temper was seriously out of control as he was angry at the world and they were the target for his rage.  As the storm passed you could see his storm fade also.  He was uptight and nothing seemed to be going right.  Each first with his oldest brings up a flood of turmoil.  A mixture of regret (for all the time lost), uncertainty, anticipation and a touch of fear.  Life has taught him to expect the worst from people.  To be cautious, because hurt can happen without rhyme or reason.  He doesn't want any more loss.  I don't blame him.   He's had enough. 

As soon as the family arrived, full of hugs, love and smiles he shifted back.  The storm had passed for him as well.  He is the kindest, most giving person I have ever known.  He's a lot like my beautiful tomato plant that the storm battered. He weathers the storms life throws at him, he loses a bit of himself with each broken branch.  Yet somehow, he finds the strength and willingness to grow and give even more than before.  All the while baring the scars left by the previous losses. 

It's not easy to be around when he is raging.  I want to fix it, make it whole for him. I can't.  Never could.  There were times in our journey that he could have made different choices, maybe grafted some of those branches back on to his tree if he had been willing to make those choices.  He didn't.  He stayed by my side.  

I wish this sweet man wouldn't fear storms so deeply, not the ones in nature, but the ones in his life.  I feel like he has finally weathered them all.  There might still be an occasional strong wind, blustery moments, maybe even a crack of lightning.  

He just has to remember that moments later the cool, sunny breezes will flow again.  Bringing love, completion and happiness.  The girl made the comment to him on Sunday when he'd voiced his regret for all the time lost with the eldest.  She said she wasn't meant to come into your life until now.  One or both of you had things that had to happen before she could find you.  I agree. She is in his life now because it was time.  Hurt and loss has calmed and strengthened him. He is now in the place and time to share his life with her. 

When storms pass, the air is fresh, life is abundant.  The energy is strong and clear.  Life is truly the same.  

This week promises to be filled with rain and storms.  Neither Hubs or I are in the least bit worried.  We've both learned to dance in the rain and it will be a week and weekend filled with plans and work towards a bright sunny love filled future. 

Go on, go dance in the rain.  Calm your spirit, wash away the stuff that is stopping you from looking for rainbows and wishing on their pot of gold. 

patience...

I don't know about you, but patience is a virtue that I am often trying to practice, and more often that not having to remind myself that I have lost. 

On Sunday both Hubs and I were up to our elbow working on vintage sewing machines. We oiled and cleaned my beautiful Singer 99K - to forever moving forward to be called Dorothy (she's strong, dependable and comes across as a bit determined).  We took it step by step, stripping her down to the skeleton. We cleaned, oiled, and checked every bit of her.  We learned how to disassemble the light case and clean that (gross), we didn't need to replace the light, although Hubs really wants me to put a LED bulb in.  I am okay with the one she has. 

What a process!  That is truly all I can say about it.  All together it took us about 4 hours.  Not bad considering we had no idea what we were doing and were working alongside the very nice English fellow on YouTube. 

Having accomplished the work on Dorothy, we started in on my beautiful Featherweight.  She's a bit older than Dorothy being a 1950 to Dorothy's 1956.  And I couldn't wait to get started.  And started to take her apart.

Boy oh boy... what an experience.  The last person to clean and oil/lube her had tightened the screw down on the spool pin cover plate so much they stripped it.  We were not sure we would get it out it was so badly damaged. Hubs definitely exercised patience with that one, and he gets total props for doing so.  That was about the time we realized how badly damaged the belt was. When testing her we also discovered that the wires in her power cord were beyond damaged (replacement arrived yesterday) and the light burned out as soon as we turned it on (replacement ordered). We bought a belt (several sites insisted it would work - yep - not great - new correct belt also arrived yesterday). 

She was super clean, but for some reason she simply wouldn't sew correctly. I knew it was a simple project, but after working on the truck in the early morning, spending hours lost in the work on Dorothy, I was overly worn out.  Still hadn't packed for my upcoming vacation and my temper was getting short. 

My sweet little Featherweight had earned her name... She will forever be known as Sophia (she older, sassy, cranky and wants things her way).  I had to walk away from working on her.  My temper was starting to flare, mainly because I knew it was something super simple and my patience was gone.  I no longer had the ability to reason it through.  I opened an instructional video from the featherweight store, but didn't watch it.  Hubs was watching one of his BC shows (you know - before color) and I had a lot to get ready before the coming adventure began. 

The youngest grand daughter and I decided we were going to Arkansas to hang out with family this week. I'm pretty sure she was only a year old the last time we'd done it.  And she is pretty opinionated, not sure where she gets that from... 

I wasn't sure she was still going to agree to our trip, as she's changed her mind several times in the past.  So I will admit to being over the moon when not only didn't she change it, but was excited and couldn't wait!

Around lunchtime on Monday she and I loaded into my little beetle and headed south.  Full of energy, excitement and expectations! By the time we hit just north of Farmington my little travel companion had fallen asleep.  I was a bit glad, as it would make the trip quicker for her.  And a lot nervous, what if she wouldn't sleep that night? I shouldn't have worried. 

When she woke from her little nap we had just stopped across the state line to stretch our legs and take a break.  Six hours is too long to simply sit. Chatting with her I missed our turn and took us on a short detour that added about 20 minutes to our trip, not a problem we found wild turkey's and huge guineas.  We arrived just in time to relax, eat a bit and enjoy the pups, and visit with Aunt T and Uncle J.  A few short hours and some craft time later day one was over and bedtime arrived - at her request even!

Over the next few days we painted, played with plaster, made more play dough treasure chests than I could count (bad play dough boy kept breaking them), we giggled and laughed, we swam in pools for hours on end (I might have inhaled most of both of them thanks to my splash baby) we talked, we explored, we visited and enjoyed time with everyone and their critters (she is definitely an animal person). 

While we were in Arkansas my brother in law fed into my sewing machine habit, by finding one from 1911 (that baby is going to need some work!!!) that my mom bought me for my birthday present and a Mercury machine from 1953 (It's a singer clone made for Morse - I might have a sweet spot for Morse machines as that is what I learned to sew on). Neither of them have a name yet, but I have three machines sitting in the garage waiting for attention.  I am fairly certain I need to stop now.  Goodness have I managed to acquire a few of them rather quickly. The two that came home with us were a steal.  Mom actually paid more than I did, her gift was $35 mine was $30 and I know mine's history and story. The Singer is a 66 Red-eye.  She is going to need a LOT of work.  She runs, but she is missing a few parts and it might have been 1925 the last time she was cleaned up. It will be my greatest undertaking so I am saving that one for last. 

I was super proud of my baby girl.  She was in a strange place, traveling for the first time she could remember with Grandma alone and only had two meltdowns.  Once because I woke her up trying to carry her back to Great Grandma's house when she was so exhausted, to watch her stop mid-meltdown and explain her feelings is unreal, to watch her gather herself together once the shoes grandma forgot to grab show up (thanks Aunt T) and tell me what she needs to feel safe and loved is so inspiring. And once because she was hangry and being four couldn't quite figure it out.  I melted so hard when she wrapped her little arms around me and apologized for being so angry.  She said "I'm sorry grandma, I was so hangry! Thank you for not being mad at me!" OMG - what grandma wouldn't melt! 

curing the hangries...

She taught me so much about patience and stepping back to observe things this week. It is often hard to believe this sweet princess is only 4 years old.  She is wise and articulate far beyond her years.  She will question until she understands and even when she gets frustrated because she isn't understanding your explanation she will ask it a different way until she does. She is tall for her age, brought into sharp focus standing next to her cousin that is a day older than her and barely up to her shoulders.  When you are around her for even a few moments you quickly forget that she is simply a small child (she insists she's a full grown child) that is still experiencing the world.  Those sparkling eyes, the crazy curls, and those dimples... well if you don't melt you might not be human. 

one day difference

By the time we returned home yesterday we were both weary - what a drive.  About halfway home when she woke up from her nap she softly thanked me.  A little 4 year old thanked me for taking her to see her friends in Arkansas.  Good thing she couldn't see the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I have learned not to show weakness. 

My momma and me ❤

I want to find something for her older sister and I to do.  Something special just for her.  I miss those trips too! At least I know that won't involve the one hundred mile version of Baby Shark.  Who knew?

This morning after a good nights rest and fresh eyes and perspective it took a 14 minute video for all of the problems with my sweet little Featherweight to make sense.  Loosen a few screws (yes mine are already loose - but not Sophia's) pop the finger in where it was supposed to be and install the new belt and it was off to the races.  I am waiting until the silly screw arrives to sew with her, she needs sleeve to protect the bed extension, so that might be the first thing I make with her. 

Patience is truly a virtue.  And sometimes stepping away and doing other things in life, like enjoying time with family will help clear your mental vision. 

Well the house looks like a sewing machine junk yard and I am behind on my chores from playing too much.  Time to get back in the flow of things!

the other choice...

This morning's breeze is a welcome change from yesterday.  Yesterday was just flat out miserable.  The air was still, the heat was insane and the humidity... there are not words.  It sure did the mid-western reputation proud.  

When Hubs suggested going out to work on the truck running boards this morning at 6 am before it got warm, I was ready and willing to get up early.  I hate the heat. Honestly, in the summer I could completely move way up north, surely there is a location that might even still be wearing sweaters and mittens - right?

Despite the miserable temperatures yesterday, Hubs and I enjoyed the tiny little town of Caledonia for literally hours!  Just a small main street of small shops and a gym full of quilts, yet we somehow managed to spend an entire day. Honestly, I might have fallen head over heels in love with that little town, and was quite dismayed to discover this morning that they had a winery and I didn't know.  Guess we will have to go and visit again.  Actually, many times I am sure. 

I had to sort of laugh when we hit the clearing in those rolling hills that held the little town.  We'd been on winding and curving roads that literally had me almost car sick.  They were beautiful, but they were intense.  Hubs kept telling me they would be great motorcycle roads.  He's probably right, they would probably even be incredible bug roads, but they were making me sick in our big pick up.  They reminded me so much of the small tree covered roads in Germany.  As we cleared the final curve and left the trees there in this small plain was an entire tiny town. Over two hundred years ago someone decided it looked like a great spot to settle down.  And they did, during it's entire history it has had less than 250 residents, and it is still a gem tucked in the middle of nowhere.

The quilt show kept us engrossed for hours, the talent of the wonderful ladies in the area (several guilds were represented because one of them could not hold their own show this year) was breathtaking.  And there was literally every style imaginable represented.  While I drooled over the antique beauties and the applique, Hubs was drawn to the brilliant colored stars of every imaginable style.  

We were honored to chat with the artist of one of my favorites and hear the story behind her quilt.  Seems she'd almost never completed it because it annoyed her on her design wall for years.  To listen to the collaboration between herself, her husband and son to finish the quilt she almost didn't make was inspiring.  The tall skinny bird with the Adam's apple was designed by her son.  

My favorite - do you see the Adam's apple?

Hubs got to play with a long arm and I think he is more determined than ever for us to finally decide on the replacement for my current machine. Shhh... don't tell anyone, but he did a great job using it. 

We both struggled with selecting our favorite quilts, to the point that we almost didn't.  I mean, how on earth can you say that one is more impressive than another when the selection is so overwhelmingly beautiful!  We both bought raffle tickets for a variety of things, barn quilts and a breathtakingly beautiful quilt.  As our phone's aren't ringing, I'm guessing that we did not win.  I mean, I wouldn't have been sad at all to have our ticket drawn for any of them, they were fantastic.  The purchase was more about the fundraisers they supported. 

I am in awe of the way small communities take care of each other.  The quilt show raised money for so many things the town and residents need.  It supports the historical society and the first responders.  The list of needs that they were raising money for was so impressive.  There was genuine love and compassion for their neighbors in all they were doing.  

Hub's favorite - I think...

We shopped all of the little shops at the show in some way.  It might have been $5, it might have been $50, it felt deeply important to support these small mom and pop shops.  Folks trying their best to make a living and support their families. 

The apron he felt I needed. 
Who can cook in that? Not me!

Hubs probably "flirted" with every woman over 70 in the place.  He is forever complimenting the gentlemen on their beautiful daughters that they have brought, knowing full well that they are their wives.  It makes me smile to hear the shocked happy laughter from the ladies.  Most of them blushing a beautiful shade of pink.  His heart is so pure. When I ask him why he does that, as most guys just look shocked, he says "did you see her smile and hear her laughter?" - he's right. 

Every time I lost him - he'd made another friend.  And was always deeply in conversation about the quilts, the community, the different machines and fabrics.  I was often called back to him by a loud, "B - you gotta come over hear now!", to which everyone in the immediate area (ya know a 1/2 mile or so) laughed and said you better hurry.  Each time he'd made a friend, a discovery, found out about a new place to visit, or simply wanted to show me another treasure.  

That man draws me out of my shell with a crowbar.  I am so thankful for it.  I would have missed so much yesterday if left to my own devises.  I would have been the quiet mouse wandering and silent.  I cherish having a soul mate that lovingly forces me to be open and welcoming. 

After probably two hours or better of enjoying those 162 quilts and marveling at the patience and time each one took we decided to check out the car show and the shops on main street. 

Surprisingly, those few small blocks filled several more hot and sweaty hours.  We poured through antique and junk stores.  Walked backwards in time in the mercantile and enjoying the old cars (Hubs found one that looked exactly like one he had once owned). It was after 3 pm when we'd finally walked (I might have hobbled) back to the truck.  There were a couple of shops left, but the idea of walking any further was a great big no from me.  I was perfectly content to sit in the coolness of the truck and head home. 

Keeping your nose to the grindstone

Lemonade anyone?

look closely - what do you see?

Could have been his...

Hubs is never one to be deterred, so off we went, he was determined to go into those last two antique shops. He had a feeling you know.  I was game the first one, and climbed down knees screaming each step to join him wandering through the beautiful old building.  Looking at each flight of stairs in slight despair.  

He found the cutest little spinning wheel way up abandoned on a shelf.  The young lady working there assured him everything in the store was for sale, if he could reach it.  You know that he did.  Stretching and standing on tip toes he managed to get it down.  It was there for a long time, covered in dust, the drive band so old it was disintegrating.  It is on my project list for today. 

all of 12" tall

As I climbed back in, I knew I was NOT getting out of the truck until we reached home.  I was hot, tired, my knees were aching and I was pretty much shot.  I was trying to not get cranky.  As we pulled up to Patti's Pickin's I firmly insisted I would wait in the truck.  I was simply done. 

1950 Singer 15-91

About 5 minutes later, I looked up to see an impish Hubs, beckoning me to join him. No amount of refusal was working, so I knew I had to go.  He'd found another vintage Singer, in a table.  And the sparkle in his eyes and that big smile made the decision for me.  When he is on a mission there is no turning him down.

Singer 15-91 in table

This one is a 1950 Singer 15-91, it can be electric or treadle driven and is in very nice condition.  It runs fantastic and I can only imagine how much better it will be after cleaning. Of course it came home with us. 

1950 Singer Featherweight 221

While we were out exploring and adventuring my treasured featherweight arrived at the house.  I am overwhelmed with joy and a fun confusion.  I want to dig in and get them all fixed up and ready to use.  I picked up all my supplies last evening and today will be a day of refurbishing and playing with all these beautiful old machines.  My sweet featherweight is in need of a new belt before I feel comfortable sewing much on it.  The one she has is probably her original, there isn't much left to it that isn't falling off. 

The case of the feather weight is a bit rough, although I hope I look that good at 71.  The table for the 15-91 is in very good shape, I think a good waxing might be all she needs. 

My sister in law assured me yesterday that all of my vintage babies need names.  Geez that is going to be tough.  I struggle naming kids and pets, I am really going to struggle with these babies - at least until I get to know them all. 

We made friends with the owners Patti and Bruce, I almost cried when he told me how many vintage machines he's dumped out in the rock pile, as he only wanted the stands not the machines. And sometimes didn't even want those.  He is not into refurbishing them, so he tosses them.  Figures it's $10 or $20 wasted.  He now has Hubs' number, he will call us if he has any that are headed for the rock pile. 

It's incredible how full a day can be.  How many diverse and unique opportunities can all present themselves.  I'm dealing with sore knees and blurry eyes (those antique shops kill me) today, yet I would gladly spend another day just like yesterday. 

I am feeling like the universe agrees with Hubs, that I should teach beginning quilting classes on my beautiful old machines.  My sister in law told me yesterday that she has another old one, for teaching on that she will gladly contribute to the cause. So many incredible opportunities and adventures are opening up. 

It's time to start working on machines, the running boards will have to wait until another time.  Ours are set for two brackets, the new ones have a 3 bracket configuration.  Mechanically inclined, yes.  Mechanic - no. I need a success today. 

p.s. we also had the awesome opportunity to meet and chat with the gentleman that painted all the barn quilts that decorate the town. What an adventure it was....