We like to think we live in daylight, but half the world is always dark, and fantasy, like poetry, speaks the language of the night. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin
Light and darkness belong in our lives. What shall we do with them?
Proof positive rain can sneak through the Creedmoor force field every once in a while. This rainstorm brought us 1.47 inches.
View from our back porch
That PVC pipe arrangement on the far side of the fence is the broken agility equipment resting ground.
It wasn’t my experience to have anyone in my family teach me to sew when I was a youngster. I was in my mid-30s when I decided to learn to sew and bought my first sewing machine in 1991 (named Optima Prime). Unfortunately, I discovered that clothing patterns took for granted that I knew what I was doing. I did not have a clue.
Results of my sewing efforts went straight to the reject pile as they were not fit for public viewing. I was afraid that even my dogs would laugh at me. It was about that time that I noticed quilting fabric had emerged from its version of the Dark Ages and had evolved into a spectacular array of vivid colors and prints. That’s when I entertained the idea of quilting, as I thought, “Short, straight lines. How hard can that be?” (Famous last words, as I know you know.)
By the time I acknowledged my quilting fabric addiction, the change in sewing technology was noticeable and downright remarkable. I got to the point where I wanted a machine with more features, more stitches, more power. [Insert evil scientist laugh here.] Optima Prime was a good machine and had a sentimental place in my heart, but it just wasn’t meeting my needs. It’s common enough in relationships that one partner grows and the other doesn’t. Time for a change. I waited for a sale and bought a newer, floor model.
I ooh-ed and aah-ed over my second machine, La Segunda. I gave it the place of honor on the sewing surface. It was lighter (the old one weighed a ton), had over a hundred stitches (my first machine had 21), and all kinds of other goodies. I dragged it everywhere in the central Texas area for class after class. I showed it off to everyone and dreamed of happily-forever-after sewing projects.
It was a shock to me that when the getting-to-know-each-other honeymoon was over, La Segunda and I discovered we weren’t compatible. I tried counseling (more classes, lots more classes). Even after a few years we still hadn’t bonded. The spark just wasn’t there. I wondered if it was jealous of Optima Prime that I had hidden in the closet. Could La Segunda tell that I still have feelings for my first love? Were they fighting behind my back while I was at the office? I envisioned a Transformers-like battle with the two machines rising out of their cases, reinventing themselves as mobile sewing Destructo Trucks.
I fretted. Was this my fault, all my fault? I gnashed my teeth, clenched my fists, begged La Segunda to tell me what was wrong. It gave me the silent treatment, expressing its displeasure in being difficult to use. Should I consider yet another machine? Deep sigh. I couldn’t rationalize three machines and I refused to get rid of my first one, Optima Prime. That meant La Segunda had to go.
Around that time, a new series of sewing machines had just been announced and caught my attention. I got all goo-goo eyed just thinking about starting over. New bells and whistles! New classes! Yes, a whole new sewing life, starting fresh! This time it would be different, I promised myself. I cleaned up La Segunda and traded it in. I wish it well in finding the right partner, maybe a one-sewing-machine home where there is no competition.
And now? My new machine is cool, calm, and collected, without one ounce of jealousy, due to its level of technology and intellect. Welcome home, Spock. Spock has the good sense to acknowledge Optima Prime as its forerunner and give it respect. Optima Prime has come out of the closet and sits under the sewing table, ready for occasional use, without either one feeling threatened. Life is good. Live long and prosper.
[This is my latest Thread Tales column, for the newsletter of the Austin chapter of the American Sewing Guild.]
The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe. ~ Gustave Flaubert
What do you believe in enough that you write about it?
All you need for tracking is a dog, a harness, a lead, a couple of articles (gloves) and someplace to track, right?
Not so right. Last weekend I went to a tracking seminar in Bertram, Texas, where the presenter was Vince Ramirez, an AKC tracking judge from Kansas. I loaded up my vehicle on Thursday afternoon after work. It took me about 3 hours.
I loaded the wire crate for transportation (Dusty would try to help me drive if he was loose in the vehicle), a mesh crate and pad for when we were inside during the lecture portion of the seminar, a fold-up chair, two first aid kits (one human, one canine), a beach towel, two fleece blankets (silly, I thought, as the temperature was in the 80s at the time, but come Sunday morning when it was 37 degrees with a 30-mph wind, not so silly), a gallon of water for Dusty, two water bottles for me, two canine water bowls (one fold-up, one plastic and non-spillable), dog treats, four leashes, two collars, two bumpers (training items: one white, one orange), a paper towel roll, a box of facial tissues, two Texas maps, my GPS, a portable jump starter, a vehicle sun visor/reflector, and three flashlights.
In “dog mode,” already somewhat unpacked.
I haven’t even started listing the tracking gear yet. That includes two tracking harnesses, three 40-foot tracking lines, four equipment bags (two wearable when tracking, two larger ones for storing the tracking gear in the vehicle), two 2-gallon bags of articles (gloves, socks, leather pieces, potholders, dishrags, wallets, etc.), a spray bottle for a spritz immediately before starting the track, poop bags (always clean up after your dog!), and surveyor flags.
There was hardly any room left for my stuff: gloves for me to wear when on the track, a vest, three hats, a sweatshirt hoodie, two jackets and one knee-length coat, an extra pair of hiking boots, extra socks, running shoes, my Frogg Togg rain gear, two golf-sized umbrellas, knee-high wading boots, snake-proof gaiters, two pencils, three pens, my camera, and a clipboard with lined paper, blank paper and waterproof paper. Oh, and snacks and lunch.
I need a smaller dog or a bigger vehicle.
