Mother’s Day

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singersewingmachine

Mothers are very special people.  My mother, is a lovely and talented lady.  Among her many talents is her ability to sew.  It’s a talent neither my sisters nor I inherited  —  whether by choice or not, I don’t really know why.

Mom made all of our clothes and some of the neighbor’s when we were growing up.  My grandmother had a treadle sewing machine she would pump away at.  My mother had an electric one that had ‘attachments’ that she would keep in the bottom drawer of the machine.

It really wouldn’t matter which sewing machine my mother used, the results were way above average.  I remember once seeing a dress in the newspaper that I wanted so much and mother just studied it.  She drew out the pattern on newspaper, cut it out, adjusted it to fit me and she was ready to go.

Placing the home-made pattern on top the dress material, she started to cut.  The scissors made a special sound as she cut through the double thickness.  She would stop many times as she sewed to fit the dress to me, all the while pressing each seam so the finished product would look professional.

I stood on a table and slowly turned while mom measured so many inches up from the table top because the last thing of course was to put in the hem.  Then the final pressing, so I would ‘look nice” at school.

My mother no longer sews dresses for me or my sister.  Her grandchildren find the clothes they need at the local department store.  She no longer sews clothing, so she make quilts. Her quilts could stand inspection from “the best of them”.

Me?  My talent is with a hot glue gun.  I can fix any hem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Misshapen Snowman

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http://www.dreamstime.com/royalty-free-stock-photography-melting-snowman-image9815397

Ah . . the first snowfall of winter.  There was something magical about it, just as there was when you were a kid.  It was wonderful at first to see the snowfall but all right, we’ve had enough already!

This is the season of the misshapen snowman.  The fluctuating of temperatures provided both the perfect setting for snowman-building, and a factor of its inevitable thaw.  These snow sculptures stand tall for their public, hard packed and solid.  Then the heat of the sun – turns them bleak and frail. 

At first, my nephew’s snowman had that rundown look, a tad unrecognizable.  Looking in the yard now you would question: What could that clump of snow be?  Was it an occasional heap of winter rubble?  Now it is mixed with leaves, and dirt.  It takes a second glance to know this shapeless statue was once a snowman. 

Finally the snowman is a non descriptive icon of snow.  In fact, it look as if it was near a microwave  —  nuked.

There was a precious persona even in its disintegration.  In the snowman’s short life,  my nephew built a monument to  the winter blahs,  for however long or short it was.

 

 

 

Christmas Shopping !

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 imadddges

Now the fun can begin. Less than twenty shopping days until Christmas.  Why is it that many of us wait until the very last minute to do our holiday shopping?

Only once could you find me shopping exactly three days before Christmas.  On that day I made a promise to myself, I would never let the shopping days slip away again!

You do not want to find yourself looking for that perfect gift for your loved one on the day before Christmas.  Why?  Because you might not find anything.  That’s why my brother-in-law always winds up with more than one sweatshirt.  When people wait, they can’t find him anything.

Other than the food court, I can’t picture why people enjoy shopping the week before Christmas.  The day after Thanksgiving is traditionally known for being the biggest shopping day in retail.  If we understand this, then why would someone want to fight the crowds two days before Christmas?

The last thing I want to do is spend four or five hours of my time meandering all over the mall, getting pushed and shoved around by a mob of shoppers.

No, I do not cop out of the experience by giving a gift certificate.  Although that idea, for some people is better appreciated.

I do the biggest majority of Christmas shopping in July.  It’s a trade-off, I shop with no hassles.  I leave the shopping on December 23rd to those who want to fight the crowd.

 

 

 

 

Touchdown . . . . ??

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My nephew is getting ready for his first big game.  He is a football player now.  When he first brought home his uniform, he wore it for most of the day. 

My little nephew  Doug,  came over and showed us  his football gear.    He looked so tiny in his football uniform.   I could almost cry when I saw how  the  mammoth equipment engulfed him.   His bright  red  jersey should intimidate any opposition team. 

He showed me his helmet.  He took special note of the face guard, chin strap and soft padding inside.  I was glad to see a plastic mouthpiece attached, leaving no emergency trip to the dentist.

Doug proudly shows a big number seven on the front and back of his jersey. He has shoulder pads under his shirt that adds a good six inches to his width.  With the hip, knee, and thigh pads in place he resembles a roly-poly about to tip over.  He waddles as he walks.  Only once did he step on my toes with his cleats.

I watched as my husband went out and showed him the right way to hold the football.  His little fingers barely covered the lacing.  When he brought up the ball so that it was just behind his ear to toss, it looked about the size of his head. 

His first lesson was to take the snap of the ball.  The football held high ready to throw then he lets his arm swing down in front.  He drops the ball more than a few times.  I yell that he should take the snap from his wrist.  One more try and then the ball sailed across the grass.

They decided to throw the football in the front yard. The little guy’s first few passes were wobbly.  I yell that my husband should move in closer.  Soon he was throwing the ball straight to his uncle.

Keeping his eyes on the ball, my nephew is ready to catch the ball with both hands.  More than once he missed it so I yell to my husband to move to the right.  Soon, the little guy caught it nearly each time.

They practiced passing the ball for a while and then started to punt it.  The instructions were simple:   Take a short step with your kicking foot, drop the ball as you step forward with the other foot, and then kick the ball with the outside of your foot.   Pow!  The nephew fell flat.   I yell that he needs to kick it before it touches the ground.    Two more attempts and my nephew kicked the football  into the air.

I was glad to be out in the front yard helping.  Each time I yell my husband rolls his eyes.  He suggests that I do NOT attend any of my nephews football practice sessions.  I wouldn’t want to embarrass him would I ?  He says it’s a “guy thing”.

Little Doug’s first football game was this week. Sitting on the bleachers I watched him play football and I did not yell.  Perhaps it was the way my husband grabbed my arm each time I tried to stand. 

They won the football game and he knows he has to practice hard for years and years to become a professional player. 

I wouldn’t save a place on the mantle for the Heisman Trophy just yet.