Friends, do you ever have rescue fantasies? I do -- in fact, I'm having one right now. I bring this up because yesterday, out of nowhere, I was rescued and let me tell you, readers, it felt wonderful. (Don't let them tell you otherwise.)
Remember my beloved Singer 15-91, my go-to machine for everything until I decided on a whim that it needed to be rewired? And then I couldn't get the hand wheel off because it felt cemented on? Well MPB reader and all-around handy guy and native New Yorker Rain (as in, Singin' in the) offered to remove the hand wheel for me -- he owns about six 15-91's in his large and growing vintage sewing machine collection and he has successfully restored/is restoring all of them!
He arrived yesterday after lunch and in about a minute and a half had that hand wheel off. Then he starting dismantling the machine itself. It was thrilling! He brought his own solvents, special screw drivers (the kind you use for guns), everything but paper towels.
The machine really will need to be rewired and Rain has offered to do it for me in exchange for a little sewing guidance so we're going to do a trade. He even offered to help me restore -- if needed -- my Featherweight, which still hasn't arrived, btw, nor have I received any communication from the seller since the purchase eight days ago. This is not good.
In other news...
Friends, I realized that some of my difficulty making a decision yesterday about the rose-print dress was related to my apartment being a total mess -- Cathy's shoes, hats, stole, still lying about everywhere nearly a week after the big event. I could barely see my poor Vinyls amid all the detritus. Something had to give; it was time for another round of decluttering.
Here are few items that didn't make the cut (i.e., adiós a vosotros), along with a few that I'm still not ready to part with.
It breaks my heart, but this vintage crochet wine bottle poodle has to go. NOTE TO SELF: Avoid kitschy knit-knacks sold in thrift stores -- the fact that somebody else dumped them contains an important message.
I bought this vintage orange Braun hair dryer at the flea market because I liked the design; I don't have any hair to dry. Alas, it has a European plug and I could never turn it on. It has been sitting in a drawer for fifteen years!
I also have this classic Braun men's razor, though I have never shaved with it. I love its Teutonic good looks and I'm not ready to part with it -- yet.
I bought this carrying case in 2001 for a camera I no longer own and I never use a camera case these days anyway. It's well made but what am I saving it for? It just sits. It's hard for me to part with things I paid money for (as opposed to finding in the street).
Here are a few (more) things I'm not ready to part with, though I really should, I know, I know....
This old box of travel soaps, no doubt collected assiduously by some peripatetic newlywed fifty years ago. The scent of Lux is still overpowering!
And these old autograph albums, seventy years old. I'm a sucker for this kind of stuff and now when I see it at the flea market (it's always there) I run the other way. Read them and weep for our collective lost innocence -- and penmanship skills.
In closing readers, I ask you: what kind of crap do you collect that your husband or wife, parent or friend, thinks you're nuts to hold on to but hold on to you must?
Do you consider things like the autograph albums and soaps pictured above priceless memorabilia or just so much dead weight and best tossed in the dumpster?
Any interest in a crochet poodle?
Have a great day everybody!
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