Skip to main content

It's going sew terrific



   As a good friend pointed out recently, maybe I should be writing more about being jobless and less about being a goddess. You know sometimes it’s hard to think of my situation as fodder for writing but I will give it a whirl and get back to my roots. And I have to tell you all about recent developments.
   Namely, my husband and I have decided to use joblessness in our favor. That’s right. We took all we had and bought the equipment he needs to start a business here. Listen, it was that or the highway. We prefer to think of ourselves as “spunky” not “crazy.” Never fear, I still don’t get a paycheck and probably never will. In fact he doesn’t either. We’re just happy to keep the heat on right now. It’s amazing how the basics can mean so much sometimes.
   My husband is a fantastically gifted upholsterer. It’s a lost art really and there aren’t many people working at it on an island so our hope is that we’ll be able to stay on Martha’s Vineyard and keep admiring the view. We’ve been sucked in by the ocean and the Not Your Sugar Mamas Chocolate bars, which we scour the Island for once a month. We can’t leave now. I haven’t tried the dark chocolate mint yet.
   Just because I don’t get a paycheck doesn’t mean I’m not working. I’m creating flyers, burning before and after photos to CDs so we can go cold calling every business we see. I’m learning how to use a sewing machine and how to cut a pattern. I say things like, “Now do you want welt or flange on that settee?” And just last week I met with an accountant to set up a program to keep track of invoices – all three of them. Unfortunately, the entire time he was talking all I could do was think to myself, “Is he speaking Spanish or is it Russian? It sounds more Russian to me…” I knew I should have paid more attention in my high school bookkeeping class.
   So we’ll see how this part of the adventure plays out. I have high hopes. Just think of all those boats that could use new cushions. All those sun rooms and decks and all that wicker in need of new indoor/outdoor fabric. This is the stuff dreams are made of. Hopefully we’ll swim rather than sink, which is a little scary because I haven’t worn a bathing suit in eight years. I’ll keep you posted.
  

   Methinks it is a token of healthy and gentle characteristics, when women of high thoughts and accomplishments love to sew; especially as they are never more at home with their own hearts than while so occupied.  - Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Marble Faun, 1859

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I might need a price check

So my husband Chris works three days a week in America, and I’m trying not to take this personally.
He’s commuting Monday mornings on the 6:30 ferry over to Cape Cod, where he works at an upholstery shop in Hyannis, the Mattydale of Cape Cod, for all you Syracuse readers. I stay here and hold down the fort, cooking up a cocktail of frozen pizzas and mac n’ cheese weeknights for my poor Danny. Chris comes back late Thursday night, all giddy over toilet paper prices and quotes on cheaper rent.
No, no, no, and more no I say. I can’t possibly leave all this off-season quiet and high-priced laundry detergent. There’s no convincing me to leave no matter how many times Chris points out that there’s a Trader Joe’s “over there.”
I want to stay here until I miraculously win on one of those $5 scratchers and can buy my own house here. The difference being that I feel confident that I will someday scratch my way to freedom while Chris thinks we’d be smarter to look into a nice rental “over there.…

Library lady

So today a co-worker who is — let’s just be honest here — 70 years old, gave me a serious run for my money at the library. Some guy was looking for a specific movie, which just happened to be located on the very bottom shelf, and I did one of those pretend searches for it on the middle shelf. She walks over and squats down like she’s going to give birth in some Third World country and finds it in two seconds. Again, here we are. Now I’m at home tearing open the cardboard box of a frozen pizza and she’s obviously at home on a rubber mat touching her big toe to her nose.      I regularly call the doctor to renew my prescription for muscle relaxers, while it seems like the rest of the women on this ridiculously fit island drink hot tea and take a warm bath for their yoga-stressed muscles. Thank God my teeth are relatively good.
     It’s not easy to work with women your age and older who think nothing of drinking spinach shakes and lugging all kinds of crap around. If I tried half the…

Getting well takes baby steps

So I’ve had what you could call a case of the pneumonia. It was not pleasant. And to top it off it happened in San Antonio, Texas. Like I wasn’t sweating before the fever.
I was there to see my niece Michelle, who by the way kept asking me, “Are you going to write about this?” which is funny because she’s a writer too. I naturally said, “Oh no, of course not.” And here we are.
Thinking back, the best part of that trip teeters between meeting my two great-nephews, Oliver and Isaac, and having a couple of beers with their Yaya, my sister, who I haven’t had beers with in decades. Like I said, it’s a toss-up. There’s also the fact that I got to spend time with my niece’s husband Alex. He’s a hardcore military guy. He teaches other military guys how to be military policemen. I’m not going to gamble on writing anything about him. He’s from Wisconsin though, which I like. And he likes to cook, which I also like.
I thought to myself before I ever left my nice cocoon of Martha’s Vineyard to tra…