Yesterday I cut out four shirts. Today I thought I could just whip them up. Do you have any idea how long it takes to thread a needle in a sewing machine?! Forever! Then glasses and magnifying goggles later it is done….only to have the needle drop out completely because the tightening thingy came loose! THEN I had to figure out which way it went back in…assumed the flat side went to the right, but no…after putting back on seeing aids and several missed tries, I saw I was trying to thread into the side of the needle where there is no hole! Flat side to the back, needle threaded and sewing can begin.
Of course the first under the needle was the black one. Black textured material with black thread…good grief! Now I am down to just hand sewing the bias neck hole piece. But one more snag….the pocket I attached looked too low. I am wearing the same shirt but do you think I am going to take a look at where the pocket goes? No! But it was a bit long anyway, so instead of removing the pocket to put it where it should be, I cut off the bottom and restitched to keep my keys from falling through. To say I have lowered my standards or my level of satisfaction would be an understatement.
Now three more to go with lessons learned and still lodged in my brain. The rest of today and most of tomorrow will be sitting at the machine, threading needles or wondering if I can get away with a thread that doesn’t match.
Last Sunday when I went to my neighbor’s birthday party, I met up with a lady from one of my poetry groups. She remembered the last poem I read and to be honest, just talking about it made me decide to return. I miss people who use words. I miss people who can make me feel things. I miss the old guy who writes beautiful love sonnets, but not for those. I miss how he plummeted me into feelings for a dying moth that battered himself to get to the light and warmth only to take his last breath on the cold concrete below. I miss holding my breath as someone reads of the simple things I understand. I don’t miss the poetry with words I have to look up or ones that take on strange forms I have a hard time following. But a dead moth is worth the wait.
Today at cocktail time, I shall have an extra strong one. At least one more shirt will be finished, I will have watered my plants, worked on my own new poem, and thought about all the things old ladies think about before giving up on wondering why. Seems like a busy day, doesn’t it?
I might take a walk if only to pass these bright yellow flowers.
Maybe I won’t take a walk. Today is not a day for visiting and chance encounters. It is a day of just me with few words and fingers too clumsy to push a thread through a needle. It’s a day to remember when I could and had higher expectations of myself. It is a day for pushing myself to get something done and being happy I did. A day to keep myself quiet, hug a cat, and go to bed early to try again tomorrow.
Till later…