STILL SHARP AS A NEEDLE

I've had a lot of careers over the course of my life.

I've tried my hand at being a nanny (pretty successful), a nurse's aid (fine until someone spit in my eye while yelling, "Mocha java! Mocha java!"), a waitress, a cashier, a receptionist, a copy shop tech (loved running that blueprint machine), a scribe for a legally blind classmate, and an office assistant. I've worked in fast food a few times. I've also risen into assistant management positions at Dunkins, a bookstore, and a fabric store.

I'm a jack of all trades and a master of none.

This was never more obvious to me until I recently have to up and move like a fugitive on the run. As I sort through stuff I've just been tossing aside for the last few years, I come across a very interesting stash in the bottom of my sewing box. Yes, a sewing box, because at one time I actually knew how to sew a little bit. What I find both shocks me and disgusts me just a wee bit.

I find a horde of needles. Needles for sewing, for tapestry, for doll-making, for hand-sewing, and needles for the sewing machine (both ball needles and regular sharpies).

I haven't really sewn since the pandemic, when I spent all of my spare time sewing headbands for nurses and other medical personnel whose ears were suffering the effects of wearing the N-95 masks so tightly and for so long that they were suffering from raw flesh. I haven't done cross-stitch in probably a decade, maybe more, and my hand-sewing reminds me that no one should ever ask me to give them stitches if we are in an emergency situation in the wild.

But, damnit, I'm fully prepped and ready for any needle-and-thread related emergency should one ever crop up. I have dozens of spools of dozens of colors of thread. I have embroidery floss enough to open my own store. And, I have the needles necessary to do the job. They may be old needles, and they may be an assortment of needles, but, like me, they're still mighty sharp after all these years.