One of the busiest stops here at the blog is my post for Ticky Tacky Little Boxes. A little sew-along that kind of exploded over at Pinterest. I'm so humbled for the sewing love. How cool.
It would seem that some folks would prefer to buy, not sew. I'm down with that. Life gets busy, sewing can turn into a perishable skill if not used regularly. I know this first hand. Besides, who really wants a pinterest fail? Not me.
So, I brushed off the machine...actually, Gusty warmed it up for me...still, I'm humming along sewing (with a machine again) and having a blast!
Look, they're fun upside-down too! It's like a cake!
Anyway, I'm sifting through all of the buttons I got from my mom and Grandma. I started drifting off in stories and quirks from my gram, who is now gone.
Here's one of my favorites;
Buttons are filthy. I know, I didn't have a clue. But for my grandmother, a button on the floor was a squicky little island of germs and skeeve. A glaring beacon of dirty underwear.
Hey. Suppress the snicker, I had to.
Apparently there was a time when there were buttons on undercrackers and if your button fell off, it surely meant that your under garments were unkept and well...dirty. Kind of gross when you really start thinking about it. A button on the floor, back then, was a button that had recently been on your butt.
Ok, I can get on the button hating wagon....untl I realize that I am sifting through nearly a gallon of buttons from a woman that had to use a spatula to pick up a button from the floor....her own floor even.
Hypocrisy? Sure. I still decided to scrub them up because, well, grandma would approve and who knows just how old some of these gems are?
Ticky tacky boxes, with clean buttons....