I Just Stole My Mother's Brother

Uncle Fred, age 60-something. Actually, my very reliable (but very old) Viking just died again. It died in August too, I think, and I borrowed my mom's Brother (her sewing machine, not some old guy) and promptly sewed through my finger for the first time in my life. I'm in the middle of being on a roll of really bombing along quilting the background of this monster purple beast, and my machine starts to get that not-good burning smell, and now the wheel's not turning without major force. Damn. I'll take it in tomorrow, but for tonight, I'm going to burn rubber on the Brother.

Here's that silly cat, fascinated with all the moving parts on the Viking. These parts are no longer moving.




There is no end to the frustration this week. It will change...there's probably some weird astrological crap going on this week. Or my magnets are misaligned. Or the gods are frowning at my depiction of mitosis. Who knows...