One of my blog friends read my brother’s blog and then sent him some boxes of really cool stuff for his classroom prize box (that he normally keeps stocked with really non-cool stuff). Amongst all the goodies for my brother’s students, there was a package for my daughter.
(This woman is smart. She’s all up in the family business and knows, just from reading our blogs, that we’re within walking distance and that if she were to send a package to my daughter, it would make sense to include it in my brother’s box. If it were anyone else, I might feel a little freaked out, but ‘cause it’s Mavis, everything is super-cool. In fact, it’s better than that—being scrutinized by her is like getting a big bear hug.)
Anyway, my daughter’s package was stuffed full of little bags of all kinds of colorful fabric scraps, some already cut into squares. There was a whole bag of brand-new threads, as well as a t-shirt ("save an egg, crack a smile") with the tag still on it. My girl glowed.
And then she sewed.
And sewed and sewed and sewed.
She’d get right to work first thing in the morning, not even bothering to get out of bed.
She set up the ironing board and the iron and then impatiently danced around me till I stopped what I was doing to go teach her how.
Her sewing machine isn’t working at present, so she’s sewing a crazy quilt by hand. I have lifted not one finger to help her, which is kind of sad because I could give her some pointers and help to alleviate some of the crookedness factor.
On the other hand, she’s doing just fine, figuring it out as she goes along. We can work on the fine points later.
This same time, years previous: butterscotch ice cream