Friday, June 12, 2009

Needles, Needles, Needles

I dropped Sue off at the Church Wednesday morning so she could join her (mostly older) friends at the quilters’ group. Sue’s been a sewer and a stitcher and a weaver and a quilter practically since birth. Her fabrics and notions and thimbles and needles are part of the essence of who she is.

When I left the church I went to take my mother out to lunch. She deferred the restaurant choice to me, so we ate at one of my favorites – the House of Kebab. Our waitress was a cute young lady with dark hair and very fair skin. Mom was shocked at the cavalcade of colorful tattoos running up the waitress’ arms and into the sleeves of her blouse. Why would she do that to herself? Mom asked me. It’s needle art, Mom. You know, like Kat Von D? It’s part of her identity. It’s part of who she is.

When I got home from lunch Sue was napping on the couch. I went to the back room to work but was interrupted by knocking on the front door. Nurse practitioner Jennifer had come by with her two daughters to give Sue a lesson on how to give herself her own Demerol injections. Our daughter, Jessica, has been willing to help Sue with this when she’s available, but the other daughter, Valerie, and I are not needle people. N.P. Jennifer is a needler, though, in almost every sense of the word. It’s part of who she is.

It sounds contrived, but it’s true. When N.P. Jennifer left I drove Sue to her afternoon appointment with her dentist … oh, never mind.


  1. Mom also reached her own landmark of giving herself her own injection yesterday! A hard thing to do, so she gets kudos! Did grandma know who Miss. Von D is?

  2. Hey George, is that your arm and tatoo? Janice Porter

  3. Yeah, where did you get that tattoo picture...I want my dreams! Too cute!