So I contributed some items to be sold at a neighbors garage sale this weekend. Andrew was quite excited about the concept of a garage sale. He went down to our toy room and gathered up a bunch of toys he wanted to sale. He marked 20 toys (not worth 20 cents all together) each $1 and then marked 3 toys $10. He thought this was a get rich quick scheme where he could gather the $50 he needs for the next lego he wants to purchase. I quickly dampened his spirits as I told him that garage sales usually are cheap and people never pay full price. Despite this, he ended up making $3.40 and I gave him an extra $17.60 (he thinks he made $20 at the garage sale). I just love the boy and it is going to take him forever to get up to $50 (unless his dad becomes involved).
While there I was chatting with my dear friend Alyce and she had a beautiful old antique Singer sewing machine for sale. It is so old that it has a push wheel and beautiful oak engravings. Now, many of you know that I am not that domesticated, dislike cooking, sewing, and all things Martha Stewart. But I am a sentimental fool. I love family history, and the moment I saw this I thought of my mom working feverishly at the sewing machine when I was a child. Being the eldest, I watched her make all 6 of her daughters Easter, Christmas, and Birthday dresses. She made prom dresses, mended old pants, and even made halloween costumes. Sewing is becomming a lost art and with articles of clothing being made in China, Japan, and Malaysia for a fraction of the cost and time expenditure in homespun clothing, I am afraid my children may never learn this art. I took sewing for 4 years in high school and can’t even sew a straight line. My senior year I worked the entire year on one dress. The teacher knew I was not slacking during class and felt so bad for my strained efforts that she gave me A’s each semester when I deserved an F. And then, at the crowning moment when I went to try on this beautiful dress, it was too small. I had had to alter it so many times and redo so many parts that it ended up 2 sizes smaller than me. And the sister it fit thought it was ugly. I have decided for some it is a true talent and gift, like my mother. For me, I stink. But, my mom loves me and for christmas this past year she got me my own sewing machine (truthfully, this is the third time she has gotten me a sewing machine for christmas-the two previous still reside at her house). I think she secretly hopes my efforts will improve. Brian is thrilled because this means I can sew on buttons, re-sew hems, and fix some of his holes. That is a wee bit ambitious of him but we shall see. Anyways, take a look and tell me what you think. Be honest, none of this “Oh you got to have it Jill or Oh get it for you mom Jill.” Because both my mother and I are already debating pretty hard over it.