Today I received an ad from the local sewing store that specializes in quilting and Bernina sewing machines. When I first moved to Helena, I went to this store to take a class in quilting and perhaps make friends. I tried many things when I moved to Helena and I figured this would be as good as scrapbooking. I didn’t meet anyone at this first class, but I bought an insane amount of incredibly expensive fabric that sat in my basement for the next four years. Last winter, I decided to start up again. I broke my Wal-Mart sewing machine and went to my sewing store to buy a Bernina. I didn’t realize that I needed to talk to my banker before I went.
I was shocked at how much sewing machines can cost. I was raised by a mother who sews, but upon research at the store, I realized she only sewed straight lines. Sometimes a zig-zag. She could have sewn patterns and embroidered and made little Mickey Mouse characters had she taken out a second mortgage. When I took my “Get to Know my Sewing Machine” class, a woman in there had to choose between a new car and a new sewing machine. She chose the sewing machine. I have another friend who can either go skiing in Switzerland or get an upgraded sewing machine. It shocked me. Just shocked me. I looked at my sewing machine, a nice general bottom of the line that could only do 56 fancy stitches and did not have a computer screen that would either spell your name in French but using Chinese characters or possible start Global Thermal Nuclear War by putting the thread on incorrectly.
Sitting in the class reminded me of high school when I used to look around to make sure I had better jeans on than at least one member of the class. I was looking at all of the numbers on the machines to see if mine was higher than the person next to me. If it was the lowest one, I would pick it up and carry it out of there. Luckily, I could do that. The nicer ones come with huge carrying cases making it harder for a quick get-away. Of course, if you have a nicer one, you don’t need to get away. You sit a little farther away from your machine so people can see the number and the cool computer screen. Like the kids with the Forenza jeans always tucked their shirts in. Jerks.
So I got the coupon in the mail tell me I could get 35% off. That is a good deal. Coupons are usually 10% or 15% with an occasional 25% for your birthday. But then I read the fine print. I had to spend $200. In other words, I just needed to buy another foot for my sewing machine. That is another way I know my mom wasn’t a true sewer. She only had 3 feet for her machine. To be a true sewer, you need at least 22 with one on order. I even have 6. I know how to use 2. But as everyone knows, it is how many you have, not what you can do with them. (Although I think I can sew a straight line with all of them.)
So there you have it. I have found myself in the middle of a huge conspiracy created by the Red Baron, I believe, to make me buy a sewing machine that can start WW III once I purchased foot # 243. Curse you Red Baron.