I'm as bad as my children when it comes to holidays. I am so excited about all the sparkly, dangling possibilities that I flit around from one enticing option to the next with reckless abandon. But each promise of what could be mine feels as sincere and real as the next- for the week or so that I entertain it's possibilities that is.
First it was a banjo for Christmas. It is No.7 on my 27 before freaking 28 list after all.
I still really do want a banjo and the musical know how, of course. I just wanted a serger more and I never honestly thought Thomas Robertson would entertain the idea of so lofty a gift, but I think he was just relieved to put off the banjo idea for a while. Every time we get out a guitar or ukulele in our house the boys become a little too enthusiastic and they take over. Let's not kid ourselves, no one's learning how to play anything around here until Asher is a little older or until we covert a shed in the yard to an ultra-sweaty practice room or something.
It's a big deal having a serger. You are announcing, loud and clear, to yourself that you are serious about sewing. You are also opening yourself up to a lot of people harassing you about using it, but that's ok. You could start a side business renting it out for a small fee until it paid for itself. You could, but why would you? Wait, this is a serger we are talking about! Stop worrying so much about people harassing you about borrowing it and enjoy the anticipation of all the straight, finished seams that await you! All the easy as pie projects and that professional finish. All the hours you'll spend sweating profusely, hunched over it with a manual, feeling like that Massachusetts couple who were lost in a corn maze and called 911! Help! How do I thread this thing!
I still want a serger and I am happy to wait for one now that I know it's a real possibility. But instead I think I am going with a juicer this year.
It's a crazy, stupid fad. It's so annoying when someone starts juicing and making you feel bad about the giant, artery clogging piece of delicious in your hand. You're just trying to savor every last sugar and salt particle and their barking in your ear about antioxidants and how their bowel movements are changing.
So, naturally I'm jumping on this bandwagon and have been slowly for the last two months (maybe?) anyway. My in-laws juice my breakfast every MWF morning and have been for quite a while. I help pay for supplies and in turn they help make me healthy. I like it. It makes me feel good and at this time of year, when let's face it-- you might be juicing for breakfast and eating trays of treats your neighbors brought you for every other meal-- you could use a little help in the nutrient department. And by you I mean me here.
Getting a juicer is also a big deal. You are announcing, loud and clear, to yourself that you are serious about your own health. And when you're sweating profusely, hunched over the sink cleaning it all by hand, you'll be double sure that you're serious, which will certainly make you think twice about consuming trays of treats for lunch. And by you I mean me here.
So, juice for breakfast every day instead of a serger right now. I can handle that.
Because I'd just be serging the hem on some fat pants at the rate I'm going.
My birthday is in six months and that serger is calling my name. I can wait.