Old Stuff.

So maybe my infatuation with things from yesterday is as jinxed as my tolerance for new technology. I don't know.  I do know, however, that the problem that i am having with my 1911 sewing machine appears to be exactly the same as the problem I am having with my 1922 sewing machine.  And  the barrier preventing me from fixing it is exactly the same: a jewelry sized flat-head screwdriver.  Which I will purchase tomorrow.  Which I probably have in triplicate here in my home but because I tucked it away somewhere where it wouldn't be lost , will not be found until years from now when my kids settle my estate.  haha.  Which brings me to another issue I am dealing with at the moment.  Another thing that is plunging me into the depth of depression: since when did I become so unimportant in the lives of my children? When did I become so damn stupid and insignificant?  When did I become (gasp) uninteresting!?

Is it menopause causing brain matter synapse misfiring resulting in memory lapses - missing words - the inability to complete a sentence?  I don't know because my record is running 2 out of 7.  Of my family of 7, only my 2 oldest children appear to have any desire to speak to me at all. I do realize that 1. I am including myself in this calculation and 2. the fact that my 2 oldest children speak with me may be solely out of a sense of obligation (I don't believe this for a second).

So it seems that my challenge for today - mainly because the magical air-drop from my phone to my ipad won't allow me to upload any of the lovely photos I took outside this everning - my challenge is to get over myself, accept myself and forge a new life for myself.  Because if I don't change what is not working, then I've no one but myself to blame.  And I've decided that life is too short to be unhappy.  But challenge #1 is to fix my Singers.