Here it is. The sewing machine on which I will learn to sew or decide I will never sew again.
This sewing machine is well traveled. It has lived in many states and even more houses. It was born long before me. It is, however, electric. Whew.
It has been instrumental in the production of many colors of elastic waisted corduroy toddler pants. It has stitched many an Easter/Christmas dress. It tried to sew stirrup pants when those were in style - I swear they were at some point. Ditto for camp shirts and jams (JAMS?!).
I should hate this machine and the torture it inflicted on my childhood.
And here I am, gearing up to torment my son with homemade clothes. And yes, my feelings will be hurt when he starts to insist on REAL clothes from the store.
But I ask you, how can I really be mad at the machine when it made this little gem?
Wish me luck. Hopefully I won't stitch my fingers together.