Tag Archives: embroidery.

The Messier Side of Me

There are two places where it’s messier than the rest of my home. I am definite if you could have a look you would be appalled at the sight. One is my wardrobe and the other is my sewing room.

My wardrobe becomes messy when I am running short of time; I am searching for an item, and it can’t be found. I am right in assuming it doesn’t want to be found. I keep on pulling things left and right. In the end, I have only myself to blame for the mess I have created. And then it takes time to sort it out again.

Unlike me, my (late) husband’s wardrobe was very organized. Every item had its designated place, and it lay there in military precision. And I am certain they would have got up by themselves, and marched over to you, if you wanted them. They shouted at you in silent harmony, “I am here…..I am here”.

My sewing room has my Janome sewing machine, knitting machine, books and magazines. It also has my unfinished projects in baskets. Threads and wools for embroidery jam the drawers. More often than not I forget to close the windows after opening them for a breath of fresh air. The result is having tons of dust as well.

When there are guests I keep the door to my sewing room tightly closed, so that they won’t come to know my messier room. Why? I want them to remain impressed with the rest of my home.

Sweeping Motions

What’s messier right now — your bedroom or your computer’s desktop (or your favorite device’s home screen)? Tell us how and why it got to that state.
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Handmade Tales

Automation has made it possible to produce so many objects — from bread to shoes — without the intervention of human hands (assuming that pressing a button doesn’t count). What do you still prefer in their their traditional handmade version?

Automation has made life easier for us certainly. If we don’t want to make it ourselves, or there isn’t time, we get it from the shops. Handmade version is definitely better than a machine made version.

Bread, baked items, ready made meals have lessened hours spent at a hot stove, and given us a respite from kitchen work. But that doesn’t mean that ready made meals have an edge over home cooked eatables. There is more to a home made dish. Everything is fresh, because you choose it with a discerning eye. There are no preservatives used. The smell, taste is great.

I love handmade carpets. I parted with so many things in my home, but the few pieces of handwoven carpets I bought, are still with me. Each and every piece is dear to me. They have a beauty which lacks in machine made ones.

Sweaters which are hand knit are better than the machine ones. Most of the sweaters are the polyester variety. If you make one yourself you will use pure wool, which is better than polyester.

Same is the case with embroidery. Machine embroidery looks nice, but hand done (I agree it is time consuming) is fantastic.

Hand crafted furniture is beautiful. One item on my wish list is getting a handmade wooden swing for myself. That will be a memorable day for me.

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Handmade Tales

Giving A Sign

Back in the nineties I made a small wall hanging from Needlework and Crafts. One one side I made balloons with patchwork and embroidery. They were multi colored. On this side I embroidered the words, “I Am Happy.” On the other side rain was falling. I embroidered the words, “I Am Sad.” After completing it I hanged it in my kitchen. When I was in a good mood I displayed the “I Am Happy” sign, but when my husband quarreled with me I displayed the rain side.

When he would see the sad notice he would try to make amends and sooner or later we would be talking again the quarrel forgotten. That hanging was my announcement to him. Gradually I stopped using it. The “I Am Happy” sign kept on being displayed whether I was happy or not.

One day I realized the “I Am Sad” sign was hanging. I changed it to the other side. While returning to the kitchen I saw it was flipped again. Earlier in the day we had a minor disagreement and I had stopped talking to him. At that moment he entered the kitchen and seeing the hanging in my hands tried to hide his smile. I looked at him and started laughing. He had resorted to using my sign. I gave him a hug, forgiving him.

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