Fabric...paper...drool...

So, my favorite sewing machine has been broken and or in the shop for the past three months.  I finally received the call to come pick it up and was so happy.  So happy.  I know, it is a sewing machine, but it is so much more to me.  I grew up using the same model of sewing machine when my mom was trying to teach me how to sew.  My grandmother also had the same sewing machine, now my sister has it.  So, here is my first project on my sewing machine that has somehow become my friend(:  I love it.  This is my first time sewing something other than clothing, so I ended up feeling really crafty and cool.  I am going to include another picture because I love it so much.

The notebook picture is taken on my sewing cabinet.  Which...my dad gave to my mom back in the day.  I painted it Chinese Lacquer Red...okay so my dear husband really did the painting.  I love it though.  My dad died when I was about 3.5 years old, so the stories that my mom tells about him are so romantic and sweet.  When he brought my mom home to meet his mom he couldn't stop talking about how awesome of a seamstress my mom was.  He was so good to her(:

Okay, I really hopped around with this post, but I wanted to show my craftier side.  Stand by for pictures of the kids...I finally found the cable the connects my camera to the computer!

And let us not grow weary of doing good,

for in due season we will reap,

if we do not give up.

So then, as we have opportunity,

let us do good to everyone,

and especially to those

who are of the household of faith.

Galatians 6:9,10

How Could I Forget Such Kindness??

My dear husband gave me this teapot about two or so years ago.  We had a heavy cast iron tea pot, that was, well, heavy and big.  I wanted something for the nights he was gone, just for myself.  So, he bought this set for me.  As I chased our kids around the tea store he talked to the cashier, making sure I would have everything I needed.  He carefully picked out the infuser for me, I overheard the conversation.  He told the lady that he wanted something with a handle because my fingertips were delicate and without calluses.  He did not want me to burn my fingers on the infuser basket.  How sweet.

So, I sit here, on another night alone, brewing my peppermint tea.  Feeling a little lonely, but every so grateful for a little reminder of his kindness.