Wish me luck

The table is set, so to speak. I had my sewing machine, ironing board, and a million dollar view. Now I have my material, it’s time to sew my squares for the island quilt. This is the day.

I have much to do this week. Quilt squares, Christmas baking and Christmas decorating. I have one week to get it all done. Safe to say that none of these jobs are unpleasant for me but I have a deadline. Our granddaughter is coming to visit for twelve days. While she is here we will be walking, playing, singing songs and reading. No work will get done.

I love this time of year, although it is the only time I regret leaving our life in the city. I miss our beautiful home decorated for the season. I miss watching E and the kids making their increasingly complex gingerbread houses. I miss visiting with our friends. I miss my Mom living around the corner and my kids asleep down the hall. 

What I have discovered after much internal examination is that it is not the city, but our life in the city which I miss.  Realistically, even if we still lived there, that life is no more.

Our kids are grown and wouldn’t be sleeping down the hall. My Mom is gone and I wouldn’t see her walking at first light to my door on Christmas morning. Those days, that life, are over. But we have those memories and I treasure them.

For a week visiting the city in December we will see our old friends and spend lots of time with our family. Rather than building gingerbread houses we will probably go the the bar with our kids and watch hockey games. As long as we are together that’s what matters. In the meantime, we will decorate this house and visit with our new friends. The opportunity to  share the season through the eyes of our granddaughter will go a long way to cheering me up.

The great thing about treasured memories is that you can always be making new ones.

Time to put a second pot of coffee on and start sewing.

Wish me luck

3 thoughts on “Wish me luck

  1. My great-grandmother and mother were master seamstresses. It skipped my grandmother and me. Seems like every time I try to use the machine the bobbin thread gets all messed up and snarls on the back side. It’s not that my machine isn’t a good one, it’s the same as my mother had. Me thinks it’s me that’s the problem. I love hand sewing small projects though. Thanks for the info on the blog conversion. I was thinking about trying but didn’t want to have to resize all my pictures and text organization. – Margy


    • I know what you mean. Sewing has always been an exercise in frustration. But this new sewing machine hardly needs me in the same room it does everything.. magic. A lot more fun than the previous hours of pulling my hair out. I come from a long line of women who liked to read more than anything.. I got that gene…!!!!!


      • My grandmother was the reader. She never finished high school but was the most well read person I knew. She was up to to date on world events and always had a book going. Maybe that’s one reason her generation was skipped for sewing excellence. Not sure what my excuse is. – Margy


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