This Sunday afternoon I am not feeling my best. Therefore, I decided to sit down on the job and set up a connection with you. Doing so always perks me up!
Last night, I was restless and achy. I should have gotten up and cleared my mind of a cluttering of thoughts. What this basket case was thinking was unimportant and getting me nowhere.
Dawn was upon me before rest came.
Then, all too soon, Paul and his sidekick Tootie Mae woke mom from the night's nap.
My sister, Sandra Gallardo and her husband Gilbert visited on Saturday. She bestowed a beautiful handmade bow tie quilt upon me. I now am the proud owner of three such pieces of her works. Embroidery work, cross-stitch and crocheted items add charm to every room of the little blue house at the end of the road.
I have saved every gift placed in my hands by her, including a couple of potholders made on a little metal loom when we were kids.
Our grandmother Siner would be proud that my little sister inherited her talent.
Our mother enjoyed sewing. She often made our play clothes by hand. Then one summer her sister gave her a shiny black Singer trendle sewing machine. She was thrilled.
Mom touched the smooth metal machine and admired the gold ornamentation. I can see her plain as day grab hold of the old piano stool and place it in front of the well-kept wonder.
She loaded the long shuttle (long bobbin) from a large spool of course Coat & Clark thread that came with the gift.
Aunt Thelma thought of everything. The drawers of the vintage machine were loaded with notions.
To tell you the truth; our grateful mom was smiling, big time. She wiggled around on her swiveling stool top. Carefully, mother reached into her basket of sewing essential and grabbed a piece of muslin, fresh off the bolt at Loeb's Dry Goods Store, the day before. She put her dainty feet to that treadle. There was power in her foot action. Heel toe - toe, in repetition reminded me of an Indian dance that Kathryn Rightson Currie taught us in gym class at Alabama Street School.
"NA NA HA- NA HA HA!" tickled me tugged at my bare feet. Mom's legs danced my dance and as I recall; I was in stitches!
Elias Howe's invention sure did set well in our house. If he only knew how many hearts he would touched back in the 1800's, when the young man conceived that idea and developed it.
When I lived in San Diego, Paul purchased my first sewing machine, electric of course. The year was 1958. We were watching TV, when a commercial came on.
The company was selling sewing machines for twenty- five dollars each, due to a train wreck. The slightly damage freight seemed like a good buy to us.
We called from a pay phone and a sales representative came out. The fellow delivered a high-pressured sales presentation.
He showed us the model featured earlier, but then, he set the lure aside and brought out a gem of a machine, made by White and fully loaded with features.
How could we afford that fine machine, living on a seamen's pay? The price tag was a penny short of three hundred dollars. We had a baby on the way, a bed, and clothes to buy.
The pushy bearded fat person laid out the payment options and Paul took the bait.
The shiny metal machine, complete with carry case was mine, sort of.
Determined to wipe out the debt and add to our income; Paul gained part-time employment at Belmont Amusement Park. In no time, the machine was mine, exclusively -paid for in full.
We put it to good use. He created beautiful outfits: skirts, jumpers and dresses, fit to please a princess. The Simplicity collection fit young "skinny" me like a glove.
I kept the workhorse humming, as well.
When we came back home to Brazil and before he found employment at Terre Haute First National Bank, we were short on money. I needed a wringer-type washer.
Mr. Gibson the proprietor of "The Trading Post" located on West National had a used one, but I did not have enough money to purchase it. He allowed me to make payments each week and accepted the sewing machine as collateral.
Soon Paul Baby paid off the washer and brought the sewing machine home.
The late James House, a well-known resident and expert sewing machine repairperson sold my husband a very nice cabinet to house the little machine.
Today, I own a newer and lighter model with little history. The machines share the maple cabinet, top and bottom.
Still like new and humming, old Betsy has withstood the test of time.
I am thinking about bringing her out of retirement, just because.
This crazy pet owner might teach Tootie Mae that Indian dance while I give the rusty seam ripper another rest.
I can be by phone at 446-4852 or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.