First off, let me begin by saying that I wholeheartedly admire those who can sew. I think it is a craft among trueartisans and a God-given gift. It requires patience, resilience, determination and vision.

It also requires an ability to thread a sewing machine.

A few days ago I got an itch. I wanted to sew something. I needed to sew something. Problem. My sewing machine was nowhere to be found. And then I remembered. It has been almostseven years since I last used the blasted machine. Seven years!

Let me explain…

Back in 2002, in a feeble attempt at proving my finesse as a soon-to-be-mommy I came to the conclusion that I would don needle and thread and sew my baby’s cribset. It had to be the hormones. Never in my years of life, except for those fateful months, had I ever set my cap for homemade goodies. It just wasn’t a part of me. It never has been. I buy my homegoods at Target just like a good American should.

But I set out to provide my new child with a homemade bumper pad and dust ruffle. In truth, the whole thing was horrible. I bought a sewing machine.Weird. Being pregnant with myfirst child didn’t help matters. Everytime I dropped a stitch orbroke a needle I cried. Iwas just sure that it was a glimpse of what was to come. If I couldn’t handlesewing a freakin’ cribset…how was I going to handlebeing a mom? My also-pregnant sister-in-law explained to me that nothing had to do with the other and I could finish this project. So, I bucked up, drank that allowed one glass of wine <quickly>and after alot of blood, sweat, tears and curse words, I accomplished my goal. And much like giving birth, once I was physically holding that beautiful cribset in my hands, all the pain and suffering involved with crafting it slipped away. I was so proud of myselfand absolutely certain that I was going to sew all kinds of clothesfor my new baby. And…I never touched that machine again.

Until last week. I ran over to my mom’s house and dug my sewing machine out of her hall closet and brought it home. It was all shiny, clean and white with cool knobs, options and buttons. I was so excited. I could do this! I’ve done it before. I mean, come on, a cribset? That’s not easy stuff, people. And, you should have seen me. I was so smug.

I was all, “Alrighty, I’m just going to thread this machine up and throw something together. I’ll practice on this burp clothfirst. And then maybe I’ll make a new runner for the table. No probs. Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and stick the thread right up here…run it through here…down through this little thingy-bob and through the needle. There. Easy peasy. I’m ready to go. Okay, push down on this little pedal. Here…we…go…crap! What the hell happened? There’s so much freakin’ thread! The cloth is stuck in…the…feeder. Oh. My. God.” The aftermath of my many threading attempts looked like a crime scene. There was thread and needles and more thread, a little ofmyown bloodand bobbins all over the place. It was awful.Flashbacks of 2002began bombarding me.

Neverthless, two long hours and many more tries later, I successfully threaded that dang machine. And then…nothing. It sits there on my counter, taunting me. But for now, I have no fabric, I’m almost out of thread and I just don’t have the oomph to start some project right now. But I will. Someday.

After all, I’ve already got a good headstart…the machine is already threaded.

Love to all, Mindy