My mom is adorable. She’s tiny – pocket-sized, actually. I’m almost twice her size. I like to pick her up & carry her around the house.
She also loves to sew. She has since she was a little girl. She quilts, sews, cross stiches.
She has cupboards & cupboards filled with fabric. At least three sewing machines. Thimbles, pins & needles, buttons, measuring tape & orange handled scissors. As she likes to say, “I cut up perfectly good fabric & sew it back together again!”
She even has a red tomato to hold her pins.
She’s a homemaker. She cooks from scratch & she mends clothes. She was a Sunday-school-teaching, lunch-packing, mini-van-driving, soccer mom for many years. She’s a classy lady in a June Cleaver meets Bree Van De Kamp way.
She says she’ll never get a tattoo, because, while she admires the workmanship, “even a sweet little button in a hidden spot would be a frightening event for me.” So, when I get bored, I send her pictures like these of women with sewing related tattoos, just to watch her squirm. Because I love her.