My daughter (A.S.) and I started making cookies as gifts two years ago. It seemed like the perfect way for our family to avoid wasting time in the mainstream money-spending, time-sucking Christmas traditions (sorry for painful honesty!) that have taken the light from what I want my children to feel is most important this time of year. (If that’s sounds straightforward, I mean it to; if it sounds nasty, that’s not what I’m going for.)
thoughts
Spontaneous Trip to the Library Confirms Everything I Need to Know
Growing up, I was always really active. I was on gymnastics, softball, and basketball teams and played kickball in the neighborhood whenever I got the chance. My mom lifted weights at our local YMCA, and my siblings and I played dodgeball or other fun, physical games while she worked out.
Thoughts on Self-Fulfillment
Hello, hello!
Let’s start the morning doing one of my favorite things besides sewing — thinking! (Oh, I promise, it’s way cooler than it sounds!)
Have you ever been turned down for a promotion you really wanted or lost a contest that you knew 100% that you should have won? Has someone made an assumption about you that wasn’t true and it irked you that you couldn’t rectify that person’s perception of you? (I think we all have been to these places at some point or another. )
And, logically, I want to think/talk/type about how you handle(d) it. Continue reading
Treadles and Stick-Shifts
Good morning! It’s 6:30 in the morning at my house, and everyone is sleeping. Except for me. As usual, I’m thinking. I liked what I was thinking about so much that I rushed out of bed to write a post about it. It couldn’t wait.
Let’s talk about the word ”never.”
Never is one of those bite-you-in-the-behind words that I shouldn’t be using. But, you know what? I think I’m going to use it this morning, and I do so confidently! I will never own an automatic car or an electric sewing machine.
Let me tell you why.
Treadle sewing machines are just like stick-shift cars. They are a lost art. I won’t be without either one unless I’m dead or have legs/knees/ankles that are too arthritic to operate my clutch, brake, and gas pedals!
The Gift of the Elderly
This post has been writing itself on the inside of my forehead like a flashing billboard every night when I close my eyes for about a week now, and I think I’m finally ready to write it.
Have you ever walked through the forest, looked at the towering, mature trees around you and wondered what they have lived through, what they have seen? Have you wished you could ask the trees, the nature around you to fill you in on what’s happened in their lifetimes, what generations before them had passed on to them? I think of this often, almost every time I go through the woods. Imagine the level of communication between nature and the Native Americans when things were still unsettled, when nature was shelter, entertainment, livelihood. Was this tree a favorite of a young boy seventy-five years ago? It looks like it could be about that old…
You could call it an obsession; I tend to think it’s more of an inquisitive desire to connect to what was before me. But it is always on my mind.
SewOldSchool 