Bag Factory

Every spare minute is spent sewing Bundaflicka Bags these days. My trusty $75.00 almost-hundred-year-old Singer is holding up very nicely. It's good for me to keep busy, otherwise I think too much, get angry about things, and write down my thoughts. I've just been told my blogs are getting too political and people don't want to hear that kind of stuff. Trouble is, I don't write for people - I write for me because it helps me get things straight in my mind...and I write for my kids. I wish I cared what people thought about me. I stopped that a LONG time ago. My mother had a devastating stroke and lost her voice, along with the use of half her body. One thing I was very anguished about was the loss of communication. There was so much I didn't know about my mother and now I would never find out. I wish she kept a journal of her hopes, fears, dreams and torments. So I write, whatever the fingers want to say. Dang what people think.

Omigosh, one of my favorite movies is on - The Englishman Who Came Up a Hill and Came Down a Mountain. What a terrific flick. I was fortunate enough to travel through Wales, castle romping, with a friend who I recently found out is dead now... What an amazing county Wales is. And what a language! All those consonants in a row - impossible to pronounce those words - but the people are speaking Welsh anyway. So cool...

Oh Dear, here I go getting political again. I looked out the barn window today and saw a gnarly looking low-life heading for my Milk Room door. I spied the hunting license on his back and figured this would not go well. I opened a barn window and said what do you want...really wanted to say "state your business" but figured I was new in the neighborhood and should be civil. I can see myself 20 years from now, after I've become good and weird, sticking two barrels out of the window ahead of myself, and then asking what they want. Well, this "person" said he shot a buck, wounded it, and it ran on to my property. He wanted permission to find it and kill it. Hah! Poor guy had no idea who he was tangling with. I said, very sarcastically, "Got a good clear shot, huh????" He said, well, he tried to. I said no way, that he should hit the road. What I really wanted to say was if he set one foot on my field I would sic my dogs on him. He might shoot one of them but the other two would rip his face off. He thought about this for a few seconds and then said, well he figured he should have asked first and he got his answer.

Anyway, on a happier note, I thought I would put some pictures of my lovely bags on this page, to focus on happier things...