I have a love-hate relationship with my sewing machine that brings out the best and worst in me. I am not one to swear, but if my mother heard me while sewing, she would want to wash my mouth out with soap. I am not one to give up or throw in the towel easily, but sewing makes me wonder why I even started in the first place.  

I have never excelled at domestic activities like sewing on buttons, ironing or baking, but I could do an OK job since, growing up, I was taught all of these ‘necessary’ skills by my mother and grandmothers.