The Death of a Dear Companion

I've no pictures of completed works to show you, but I have been a busy girl the past two weeks or so. My beloved and trusty Singer machine, my fiber-companion of some 18 years passed into the veil two weeks ago. By which I mean, in my overly dramatic way, the tension is frelled beyond all hope of my repairing it. I borrowed my bestest Gretta's machine to finish the Halloween costumes. (Y'all did catch that it decided to bite the big one a week before Halloween, right?) Her machine is a simple two stitch machine (it does straight and zig-zag) and yet it ran so much more smoothly and efficiently than mine. I believe that my poor old machine had been ailing for some long time, but I had acclimated myself to its ways, and did not see.

This is the part where I explain that my husband is the most marvelous creature in all this Middle.... Tennessee. (Sorry, I've been having my annual re-watching of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. It makes me talk funny.) Anyway, point being, that when my sewing machine died, my old-man first spent several hours trying to make it be go. He doesn't know from sewing (in fact he's nervous of the whole concept of making things with string) but he does know machines. When that failed utterly, and I was sort of staring blankly in shock and horror at the carcass of my beloved (and filthy! How come I never noticed it was so dirty?) machine, he says to me, he says, "Baby, you've got to have your tools."

I love that man.

I spent the next several days researching my options, and am now the proud and ecstatic owner of a new Brother 6000. I'm a fickle creature I am, as I'm already so enamored of my new machine that I'm like "Singer? Singer who?" Frailty, thy name is seamstress.

Dude. It has 60 stitches.

I'm a happy woman.