Corner window

Contrasting reflections

The play of light on a wall

 

Window views

Out the window

Friday Fotos: A (strange) variety

My mother and her sewing

This tweet by Miriam Posner reminded me of my mother’s sewing skills, which were considerable:

One thing my mom used to do every year is sew me an outfit for the first day of school. Bless her, but I won't subject my daughter to that.

— Miriam Posner (@miriamkp) August 31, 2016

My mom may well have made my sister a first-day-of-school dress, I don’t remember and I wouldn’t have been paying attention to that. But she certainly made dresses for my sister. She made pajamas for both of us. And my parents collaborated on Halloween costumes.

When I was quite young I was fascinated mom’s sewing. When I heard the rhythmic sound of the sewing machine I’d go and watch her sew, the needle moving up and down, up and down, the motion of the foot (I believe that’s what it’d called) as she advanced the cloth through the machine, the “snip!” of the scissors when she cut the thread, all of it fascinated me. How she set the machine up, but, alas, I can’t describe it because I don’t remember it very well. I think there were two threads the interlinked during the sewing. Something called a bobbin. The foot-pedal she used to regulate the speed.

Later on, in my late teens, before I went off to college, she taught me how to sew buttons on and how to darn socks. I went off to college with a little sewing kit, a bunch of needles and small spools of thread in various colors, a darning egg, an ugly red and white plastic one, not like her elegant wooden one, and several spools of darning cotton. And I actually did sew on buttons for many years, still have needles and thread, though it’s been several years since I’ve sewn a button on a shirt. I darned my socks for years as well, but gave it up, two, possibly three decades ago. It was just easier to buy new socks. A couple three four new pairs a year seemed to do it.

But, late in my teens, one thing bothered me. Mother never sewed anything without a pattern – she had lots of those. Why did she always need a pattern? Is making up your own that difficult? For some things, maybe, a fitted shirt or blouse would be tricky (shoulders). But for a basic dress or pajamas? It seemed to me that anyone who had the skill mother had should also have been able to do some original work.

That never made sense to me. Do liberated women make up their own patterns? Or have they given up sewing altogether, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But someone has to know how to sew. We can’t leave it all to machines and professional tailers and seamstresses, can we?

Christmas on Cherry Lane [Media Notes 149]

See that house in the middle? That’s 315 Cherry Lane in Johnstown, PA. That’s where I grew up. The family moved there when I was about four and we moved away – not very far away, just around a corner and up the road – when I was 13 or 14, somewhere in there. My sister Sally would have been born at about the time we moved there, whether just before or just after, I don’t know because I don’t know the exact date we moved there.

Anyhow, she told me there was this Netflix movie, Christmas on Cherry Lane. I think she said she was going to watch it. I decided to watch it as well. (And besides, my friend Greg lives just off of Cherry Lane in Mendham, NJ. How many Cherry Lane’s are there? Lots, I bet.)

So, I cue it up and as soon as I see “Hallmark” in the opening credits I got a bad vibe. And, you know what? The vibe was right. It was annoying, just plain annoying.

It’s Christmas, there’s snow, and we have three families. All living on, you got it, Cherry Lane. Each family has its troubles, annoying, aggravating troubles. And they’ve got to be resolved by the end of Christmas day. And they are, because that’s what kind of movie this is. But it’s all fake, all manufactured.

Yes, I know, all art is manufactured. But in good art there is a purpose. In this film, though, the only reason these families have these problems on Christmas day is so they can get solved on Christmas day. Just how these problems get solved, that’s not at all obvious. If it were, then there’d be no reason to watch through to the end, would there? So there’s a bit of luck, an unexpected miracle or three. Big Whoop! It’s Christmas day, wouldn’t you know?

And there’s a gimmick, which I didn’t quite get until I went surfing the web to find out just what had happened in this irritating movie. They’re living there at different times. Or at least two of the families are. That explains why I saw one frame with a big “1999” planted on it followed by another with a big “1973.” But that wasn’t enough to clue me in. Maybe that’s because I wasn’t really paying attention. Do you know why I wasn’t really paying attention? Right! I was annoyed.

And then there was that hot actress who played the middle-aged mom who was retiring to Florida with that horse-faced guy for a husband. I know I’ve seen her somewhere. But where? Ah, that’s Catherine Bell, who played Major Sarah MacKenzie on JAG. That’s where I saw her. Maybe she’s why I slogged through the irritation. It’s not much of a reason to watch a movie. But at least it’s a reason.

Maybe there’s another reason. Now I know why the Grinch stole Christmas. Because he saw this movie, that’s why. He wanted it all for himself.

Looking out of the window

Trina Schart Hyman (1939-2004 )
Children’s book Illustrator
Lovely homely illustrations a pleasure to post. That’s a big dog guarding the door pic.twitter.com/d98FFOCSC9

— helen warlow (@HWarlow) November 28, 2024

Mixed bag

Upstairs

Mundane

A view from the window

Contrasting visions of order in the world

Test & Drain

Friday Fotos: Through the window

Domestic matters, so colorful (& better than Pop-Tarts)

Upstairs Downstairs [not a TV show]

The room across the hall

Some this and that, a mini cosmos