Changing Needs
Hello on another great sunny day. I have no idea what the temps are but the sun is out and the wind chimes are not ringing off the trees. I am not one to shun changes. It just takes me awhile to acknowledge that a change is needed. I have been using our basement for my sewing room for over 20 years. My projects don’t have to be put away when we want to set the table for a meal. Fuzz and threads get Swiffered up from a smooth painted concrete floor regularly. It would surprise you how many threads can catch on the bottom of shoes and show up on the main floor of our home. About a year ago Dennis and I traveled to Bird Island and I purchased a new sewing machine. First big purchase of a machine since 1967. It is so wonderful not to have to raise the pressure foot manually or cut thread manually. It is amazing how much those two items save on fingers, wrists and shoulder movements.
It has been in the last six months that I sat back down here among my goodies that I knew I had to make some changes. My cutting tables are no longer at the factory 29 inch height. They are now at 35 inches via bricks under the legs. My arms are now at 90 degrees as I sit up to the sewing machine via my 1960s sewing table that Orlin bought for me when we were farming. My ironing board is now 36 inches in height thanks to Dennis working with me to put a
26″ x 56″ topper on it for handling the quilting projects. So why all the changes now?
In today’s currant world, I like my life and I like it a lot. Comfort for me goes beyond a pot of coffee each day and plenty of food for nourishment. I enjoy feeling good physically. Taking a large amount of pills for me is not where I need to be at my age, which soon the number “72” will no longer hit the mark. I will never beat the disease of arthritis. I can keep it at bay. If I don’t keep moving and doing, it will take over much like water as it travels over the top of a flat surface when I knock over my water glass at the dining room table. I just had a great checkup with my family doctor. It was so good that this time my weight was not mentioned. Oh . . . I am not done with that little item yet, it just no longer defines who and what I am.
I do believe that arthritis is in my DNA. With both sets of my grandparents it was evident of that in their day to day living that their mobility was hampered by arthritis. I am so fortunate that with medical advancements to be taken advantage of, the arthritis is my burden to carry but not a burden in my day to day activity. It was not enjoyable to have both feet surgically altered so I could walk, carrying myself correctly. Oh my gosh, that was in the early 1980s. I could do crutches up and down our basement steps at our home at South Branch. The attention that I needed from Carrie and Kevin could also be gotten with a tap on the head of the crutch tip. June of 2005 I decided to have my knees replaced. The bone on bone was very painful. Surprisingly the memories of the physical work that aided in the need of that surgery that I did as a farm girl and farm wife are not painful to remember. I cherish those memories. Both of the knees done at one time was a slick way of getting through the recovery and the therapy. Either you moved, or you didn’t. Using the push lawnmower that summer was the ticket for mobility. The two shoulders that needed to be replaced in the recent past . . . that was not a choice that I made. Within a year of each other, it was of necessity at the time. The arthritis was so severe, it didn’t take much of a mishap to put it on the schedule. I now, so appreciate my mobility. The lack there of with certain activity doesn’t really hinder me. I have learned to find different ways of achieving the same end.
As I said, I like my life. I like the comfort that each day brings. Dennis and I take care of our home as it needs it. It sure is a pain when we need to ask for help. The pain of swallowing our pride is less than having our home become less than it should be. By all accounts our home is handicap accessible via the hard-work of making it so. Dennis and I are very appreciative of the hours that it took to make it so. Hats off to carpenters whether biological or store bought fellows.
Many of the do-it-yourself projects to bring my sewing room into what I now deem as a “sewing studio” has been sitting back and taking stock of what could be moved or changed with very little effort or cost. Not so yesterday! I now have a brand new iron to put upon my improved ironing board. I knew that the Oliso irons have been around for a long time. Friend Linda has had one for at least eight years, perhaps shortly after they were first out. The sewing machine saves on my hands, the height of the work surfaces has been a huge help on the back and shoulders. The darn iron has been killing my right wrist which is a bit deformed with arthritis. Using the iron and having to tip it up or down does . . . in plain English . . . hurt. 
The Oliso is also a steam iron, so I don’t have to use the laundry sink that is close by to wet a pressing cloth and wringing it out. Now when I am finished pressing a seam, I move the iron off to the side and it raises itself, taking its own hot plate off of the surface, patiently waiting until the next time I need it. As soon as I touch the handle, it lowers itself ready for service. I’ve gotten one square of a t-shirt quilt done and I already appreciate it. I take that back . . . my right wrist loves it.
This was the last of the changes I knew I needed to continue loving my sewing studio and working in it as comfortably as possible. Why do I wait so long to make a change for the better? I have no idea. I am sure it is a deep seated feeling of making do with what is at hand. It’s a good thing at the age of 72 I am very aware of what brings me happiness and feeling good while doing it.