Some women are born with a silver spoon in their mouth? I was born with a sewing machine in mine! I'm not kidding - I loved sewing from the very beginning! I learned to sew when I was 8 yrs old and have not been far away from a machine since.
I had a short time when I didn't have a sewing machine, I sewed by hand. There was simply no way I was going to be 'not sewing'! I've rarely had a dishwasher, but always had a sewing machine (except for that one time).
I remember a Christmas when I was still in elementary school, about 6th grade probably. I asked for fabric for Christmas. True Story, ask my mom. And I got it. I've had lots of memorable Christmas gifts over the years, including one child who was born on Dec 17 :) The fabric was my best gift until he was born. Somewhere upstairs in a drawer, I have a picture of him, just a few weeks old, underneath the Christmas tree. He was my last one, my baby. Now, my 'baby' is 6'4" and has 3 children of his own!
But I remember the fabric, I remember exactly what it looked like, what I made from it, times when I wore the dress, and with what shoes! What's up with that? I can't remember where the car keys are, or what I did last week, but this very first gift of fabric is imprinted on my mind in such a phenomenal way.
I remember fabrics. I can match fabrics in the store, with one of them at home. I remember fabrics I had and then gave away, and then was sorry. I have some fabrics that I've had for years. I haven't done anything with them yet, but the right project has not come along. It will.
I've forgotten birthdays (sometime my own, and nearly always forget my age), names, places, complete events in my life, but fabrics, patterns, threads, notions - for some reason, those stick. I don't know.
As long as I can remember fabrics, I guess I'm not completely crazy. Or maybe that makes me crazy. I'm not sure.
I had a short time when I didn't have a sewing machine, I sewed by hand. There was simply no way I was going to be 'not sewing'! I've rarely had a dishwasher, but always had a sewing machine (except for that one time).
I remember a Christmas when I was still in elementary school, about 6th grade probably. I asked for fabric for Christmas. True Story, ask my mom. And I got it. I've had lots of memorable Christmas gifts over the years, including one child who was born on Dec 17 :) The fabric was my best gift until he was born. Somewhere upstairs in a drawer, I have a picture of him, just a few weeks old, underneath the Christmas tree. He was my last one, my baby. Now, my 'baby' is 6'4" and has 3 children of his own!
But I remember the fabric, I remember exactly what it looked like, what I made from it, times when I wore the dress, and with what shoes! What's up with that? I can't remember where the car keys are, or what I did last week, but this very first gift of fabric is imprinted on my mind in such a phenomenal way.
I remember fabrics. I can match fabrics in the store, with one of them at home. I remember fabrics I had and then gave away, and then was sorry. I have some fabrics that I've had for years. I haven't done anything with them yet, but the right project has not come along. It will.
I've forgotten birthdays (sometime my own, and nearly always forget my age), names, places, complete events in my life, but fabrics, patterns, threads, notions - for some reason, those stick. I don't know.
As long as I can remember fabrics, I guess I'm not completely crazy. Or maybe that makes me crazy. I'm not sure.
























