I've never been any sort of domestic goddess. I like cooking, but it's been a long process of "becoming." The first meal I ever made for my husband tasted, as he so kindly put it, like Lysol smells. I liked it, but chicken deep fried in lemon pepper batter with lemon rice on the side obviously wasn't his thing. I never made it again. My landlady at the time did her best to teach me to cook "real" dishes. She was Italian, and for three and a half years I was her pet project . . . and a disappointment.
Something clicked between then and now, and most meals I make are edible at the very least and often pretty darn good. Just don't ask me to make beef of any sort because I get lost in that section of the meat department. I really don't know one cut from another and I get frustrated and end up serving beans to my family that night instead.
For 17 years of marriage, however, I have never really tried the sewing side of domesticity. The idea of making curtains and duvet covers and pillowcases and clothing of any sort? I just can't take myself there because I have flashbacks to my childhood and the polyester t-shirts I wore--the same pattern in varying material (but always polyester)--for several of my formative years. "Traumatized" would be a strong word. "Shell-shocked" would not.
This Christmas, however, I took the leap. Ron asked what I wanted, and I confidently said, "A sewing machine." The excitement in his voice was sweet . . . a certain air of innocence there, like a child who can't believe his good luck at getting the toy he always wanted but never hoped for out of fear of being disappointed.
Here's the one I picked out. (I needed a beginner's, and even this one is a little advanced for me. See that knob on the right? I've spent two days trying to figure it out.)
And here, apparently, is what I'm supposed to be wearing while I sew. And another reason the idea of sewing has always frightened me a little. Am I required to wear slippers? Obviously not. But after a few months at my little machine, will I resort to slippers and a housecoat as my go-to outfit? I've decided I have to have faith in the friends I have who sew and get dressed every day.
Also to ward off the slippers and housecoat, I've decided to not make a single curtain, duvet cover, pillowcase, or article of clothing until I have mastered these:
Okay, so that was my first. His name is "Thump-er" and he's a love bird. Those are wings (misshapen, yes, but perfectly functional in his world) and eyes wide with love.
I started this today and don't know yet where I'm going with it.
Finally, to keep myself entertained while making monsters, I watch monsters. That's "Angel" in case you can't tell--as in David Boreanz, as in Joss Whedon--because nothing makes a home a home like a few vampires and demon hunters.
I sense Ron's childlike enthusiasm fading quickly.
Good thing I made beans for dinner.