Wouldn't you have done the same?

First, Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there.

Dear readers, wise readers, it had been my original intention today to write about this striped cotton knit tank top I stitched up Friday afternoon.  I'd bought the fabric locally the day I picked up Cathy's black gloves, nothing special.  And as you can see the final result is...nothing special.

Here's the back:

OK, like I said, I was going to tell you how I trimmed the edges, how I lined up the stripes, blah, blah, blah -- but then this happened:

So I'm walking home from the flea market yesterday afternoon with the dogs (WAIT till you see the opera-length gloves with original price tag attached I found for $2 -- in lavender!) and I'm crossing north on 25th Street, I'm not even sure why since I live on 24th Street, when what do I see sitting amid a pile of discarded clothes, plastic bags, rotting food -- the usual New York City pile of trash left in front of a shuttered storefront -- but THIS:



Can you friggin' believe it?  Just sitting there amid this debris like it was yesterday's pizza box, in fact I think it was even sitting next to yesterday's pizza box.  Well, I don't have to tell you what I did: I picked it up -- first looking around to make sure it hadn't already been claimed by some loon living in that pile of trash -- and shlepped it the three blocks home.

What would you have done, peeps -- left it there?



Now look, you know I can resist a flea market sewing machine, I can resist a thrift store sewing machine, I can scroll past hundreds of eBay sewing machine listings like they didn't exist, but when I find a sewing machine in the street...well that's where I draw the line.  I simply cannot ignore it.

Needless to say, like just about every discarded mechanical anything, this machine has issues.  First, it has no motor.  Second, it has no belt.  Third, it has no tension assembly.  Fourth, it has no whatever-that-thing-is-the-drop-in-bobbin-sits-in-is-called.  But guess what?  When you turn the hand wheel, the needle goes up and down.  It works!  And it even came with a straight stitch presser foot.

I was able to date it from 1951 and I think it's a Singer 66, though I'm not completely certain.











So now I have to decide what to do with it.  I already have a perfectly good Singer, my beloved 15-91, and I don't think I have the energy to restore this one.  I also have all the doorstops I need. 

So now what?  At risk of further establishing a dangerous precedent, I once again turn to you for advice.

What would you do, peeps?  Throw this baby back on the street?

Think carefully; the fate of a sewing machine lies in your hands.