A journalist observes life in the far north.
I bought a shiny new Singer sewing machine at Wal-Mart recently. My friend, Mary, gave me a quick and dirty sewing tutorial after brunch on Sunday. I sewed the rest of the day. I sewed so much—this quilt is the end product—that a screw popped out as the machine hummed along. The sewing machine just kept going, totally unfazed.
The new wood stove is working out swimmingly. Waking up to a toasty warm house in the morning is sublime. And I still enjoy the novelty of making fires. If I get no exercise one day, I gather wood from a tarp-covered pile outside and lug it upstairs. Carrying a couple of arm-loads of wood up two flights of stairs feels like a workout.
The Bottle Washing Fairy is in town, specifically to join in celebrating Lucky’s first birthday in a couple of weeks. We’re having a family brunch on the 12th. I decided to make a movie of the party, and I asked her grandparents and father to be prepared to film a private message to Lucky that she can view when she is older.
I was assigned a natural gas pipeline story at work today. The story, not complex, is taking forever because the who, what, when, where and why behind the gas pipeline project is complex. I am also writing a profile on a dollmaker.