mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 31 I've been trying to think of a way to express what a great birthday I had without sounding all bragadocious or even worse - all weepy and sentimental. I had an absolutely ideal birthday filled with people I love and respect and delicious food and drink. A cabin in the woods on the banks of a river with a hot tub truly cannot be beat. And even though there was no snow, we had Trivial Pursuit and laughter and cupcakes. There was a moment this weekend when I looked around at the people I was surrounded by and got a bit teary eyed. I'm very lucky. You know, I am so happy, right here and now. If I had sat down a dozen years ago with a pen and paper and planned out the perfect life for me, I couldn't have come close to documenting the nirvana I have somehow stumbled into. I have a supportive and wonderful spouse, brilliant friends, and a pervasive sense that things are only going to get better. Pete's gift makes me both smile and tear up; a sewing machine so fine I wonder if I have enough talent to use it. I don't know if I ever mentioned this but my grandmother was an expert seamstress and designer. In fact, she made all of my clothes for the better part of my childhood. I had a closet filled with the most amazing dresses and jumpers made of the finest fabrics and all accessorized with miniature matching handbags and hair ribbons. Then I became a bratty sixth grader and I wanted Jordache jeans and Benetton sweaters. I distinctly remember telling my grandmother just how old fashioned the garments she was making me were and how I didn't want to wear them. I still remember how hurt she looked. It kills me. A decade would pass before I asked my grandmother to teach me to use a sewing machine or to explain how a pattern worked but when I did, she happily sat down with me and showed me the basics. Unfortunately, she had begun to suffer from severe arthritis and we could only work together for short periods of time. It would be just a few short years till she was no longer able to do any of the crafting she had once loved so much and then just a few more till she passed away. When I sit down at that machine, I can't help but think about how much she would adore it, how she'd marvel at it's self-threading abilities. She'd be blown away by the button hole foot and the 50 possible stitches. Or maybe she'd just be overwhelmed. I'm not quite sure. But what I do know is that every time I turn that machine on I think of her and smile and that's a truly great gift. 8:17 p.m. - 2005-02-01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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