It started with a five and three ones - eight whole dollars. The nine red tickets my money would buy were my chance at the opportunity for something new. As I stood in line to pay at the charity garage sale in January, two older women were quietly sewing at a card table set up against the west wall. They were peaceful- looking, chatting away over a piece of light tan fabric being meticulously stitched by a lavender and white machine. Always one for a bargain, the raffle they were holding piqued my interest.
Despite my mother's urging, I never wanted to learn how to sew. The mere thought of the word was enough to bring up terrifying images of middle school Home Economics and the nightmarish locker caddy our instructor made us create. My lines were hideous and I faltered at the foot feed. When my mother wanted to pass the skill down to me, it seemed like more of a disease than anything.
That was until I saw the Bernina bernette 82e. My enthusiasm seemed to bubble over as I exclaimed, "I really want to learn how to sew!" My mother stood idly by in awe as she contemplated what had happened to the daughter she once knew. She immediately put in a few dollars herself, as she said, "My machine is 20 years old - you don't even know how to sew!" We walked away laughing, jovial in our raffle competition and enjoying the time that we had spent together finding bargains at the sale that day.
Fifteen minutes and a root beer later, I received a phone call as we sat waiting for our lunch at the nearby Longhorn Grill. The rest is all but a blur, but I'm sure there was some form of screaming involved and the patrons probably stared. I didn't care. I had just received the call saying that me, little ol' me who never wanted to sew, had won a $599 sewing machine! My mother was seething with envy.
And so began my journey into the domestic jungle. I have always loved the thrill of the hunt for a new bargain, but now I'm learning to embrace the benefits that a domestic lifestyle can bring to my pocketbook. While I haven't done much more than introduce myself properly to my new Bernina and made a few stitches here and there, I can now easily envision a life firmly following my mother's call to the machine that she tried to encourage so many years ago.
