TV Wars

My computer has been in the shop for two weeks. There may be some technical term I should use instead of "in the shop" when discussing computers but I am not aware of it. At any rate, I am sitting on the couch with my husband while he watches some sort of American Pawn Storage Auction Picker Wars show, as he is frequently inclined. This is usually my cue to retreat to the office and play with the computer. Since that's not an option, I'm still on the couch with my nook color, typing a post with one finger. So this won't be long. There are a lot of things I don't understand about these shows. The appeal of buying and selling junk. Driving across the country trying to make a $20 profit on a rusty doorknob. Why these shows are on the History Channel. Why this man, having barns piled to the rafters with questionable treasures, is being affirmed for his life choices while his cosmic twin on TLC is the focus of a hoarding intervention. "That guy is on the wrong show," I helpfully point out to Jack. We both miss the computer.

Something Old

About twenty years ago, I bought a treadle sewing machine for $25 because I thought it looked cool, and I liked old things. I managed to unfreeze it and fit it with a belt so it turned. But I didn't know how to find the correct presser foot or needle, so it remained a quaint plant stand for a while. After some time I discovered that the Internet was a thing, and there were all sorts of crazy sewing machine enthusiasts in the world. I started doing a little research with my treadle in mind, but soon fell into the abyss of vintage sewing machines in general. The treadle waited. In my quest for knowledge and more Singers, I stumbled across the missing foot and needles, but never put all the pieces together.

Until this January. In the process of organizing my sewing room, I reintroduced the old girl, a Singer 9W, to her missing parts and some oil. I found a threading diagram and gave it a shot. In her shock, she produced about half an inch of confused bobbin tension, then collected herself and sewed a beautiful seam with no adjustment needed. "It's about time," she said. I have no idea how long she sat idle before I bought her, but she was always ready to do what she was made for, and do it very well. That's why I love old machines.