It was a personal choice to speak or not at the party and I chose to remain silent. Not for lack of love or respect, but a personal choice ~ I'm a cryer and figured that the party would be better without tears!! There is so much to be thankful for when it comes to my mother. Everything I love started with her influence.
When someone asks me if I am a 'self-taught' seamstress, I say "No, my mother taught me!" My earliest memories are of sitting on her lap at the sewing machine with my hands resting on hers as she guided fabric under the needle. Listening to the sound of the heavy shears as they cut through the fabric on the dining room table, a sound that to this day fills me with anticipation of wonderful surprises. Those scissors did so much in her hands: made clothing, sliced pizza, trimmed bangs, made paper dolls, feather flowers, slip covers, Fourth of July floats and May Party dresses out of crepe paper. Sewing became the 'thing' that identified me.
As a young woman when it was time for introductions it would sound something like this: this is Lawrence he's an engineer, Lenny's a carpenter, Liz is the artist, Stephen is the musician, Michelle....likes to cook and Celeste is the baby. It is funny because for years I felt cheated as being the person who just liked to cook, but poor Celeste, really, just the baby? So it seemed appropriate that for the birthday party I would make the cake. I do like to cook all sorts of things. So number two on my list of things my mother taught me to love is cooking.
When I moved to North Carolina a little magnet that read "Bloom where you are planted" was given to me by my mom and I hate to admit that I spent alot of time in front of that magnet praying to see the blossoms.....Another thing ~ patience.
But back to the party.....
Not to be outdone by the Royal family we all wore hats: big hats, little hats, serious and silly hats, headbands, crowns, flowers and fruit. Here is mine. A pincushion seemed appropriate and it was made like a slipcover to go over an existing straw hat.
