Friday, March 09, 2012


In the evenings I sit and this is my view, TV on the right. Tonight out of nowhere Ray said, "I love our house." And  I agreed. Not for its size. Not, certainly, for its luxuriousness. It is definitely a work in progress. And it occurred to me that this is probably our last house. I hope to be here a long time. But still, a sobering thought. The journey of my life has led me here. It makes me think I might have considered things more carefully, but then I—we—(I include Ray in this) have always been a bit impulsive. We never planned to be here, in this spot, but I'm not sure there is anywhere else I would rather be. Today's sunshine has made things pretty much right in my world.

I have known for several weeks that there was something wrong with my sewing machine, but I have pushed it through, babying it and avoiding stressing it too much. Yesterday it lurched into a shuddering spasm, swallowed a big gulp of thread and then vomited it out. I cleaned it. I talked soothingly, but it continued to gulp thread instead of stitching, so it went off to the repair shop today.

I think of it as my "new" machine, though it has probably been ten years ago that I brought it home. I hope it can be repaired. I think it can, but they say it will be at least three weeks before the repairman, who is currently doing good works in New Mexico (repairing Hopi sewing machines?? I don't know...), will be back and make his way through the backlog to my machine. Meanwhile, I pulled out my old machine (which was my "new" machine for the twenty years prior to the purchase of the new "new" machine) and it seems to run OK. I will reacquaint myself with it. It is like changing cars. Everything is in the wrong place. Deadlines are looming, but this is a test. If all else fails there is the treadle. There is still money in the drawer.


  1. It's funny how attached we can become to our "companions". I, for one, seem to take it personally when the machines don't work. I also enjoyed reading about your house. This is my last too and I am the queen of impulsive. Enjoying your blog very much.

  2. Life is short... So, go out and get the machine you really want! You've got a lot more beautiful things to create, and I can't wait to see them!
    Hugs from Mary... one of your followers

  3. I can tell by the colors it's a it the 6500? Mine did something similar once and it turned out that the bobbin I was using was NOT a Janome bobbin which turned out to be a teeny tiny bit different (evey so slightly convex) than your average clear plastic whatever bobbin! The commoners will work but with the right combination of thread and task...thread vomiting and tension disruptions ensue.

    The pro cleaned scandalous filth, oil parts to which I have no access, reset the tensions and with the proper bobbin, Big J went back to his good natured, hard working self. I bought a dozen Janome bobbins and threw out the rest..the difference is so scant it was too easy to make the mistake again.

  4. I, too, have arrived at what may be my final house. And I wonder how this came to be? I preferred the previous house and still miss it. I also see another house on my walks with the dog and would like to live there.

    This house is too large now. Too much room for piles, clutter and excess. It is all on one floor and easy to maneuver a scooter or wheelchair. We "planned" and figured we would retire here. Now, I wish it were a different house, entirely. This is the 12th place I have lived. Imagine that. The first was a vintage trailer in a large field of grass.

  5. Again, "get well soon" to your machine. Too bad we are so distant, I could lend you one. Maybe someone there in God's country will have one to spare should it become necessary. Del

  6. I know what you mean about realizing this is the last house I'll live in. And I'm happy to be here and hope I can live out my days here, but it is a sobering thought! I remember 20 or so years ago when our neighbors moved to their dream house. She said (and she was about 6 years younger that my 20 years ago age!), "This is the last house I'll ever live in!" It seemed a strange thought to me then but I understand it now.

    I hope you get your 'new' machine back soon! Good thing you have the work horse as a back-up!