if only we could see life as the camera does

At the beginning of this month, we spent a week with my mom. My sister had asked me to do a little seamstress work on a couple of dresses for her younger daughters. I decided to consult Mom's sewing box. In it I found some wonderful trims, one which had been used to make a dress for me when I was in my aunt's wedding, several iron-on knee patches, butterfly appliques, and tons and tons of dust. So, to "help" my mom (who no longer sews), I decided to clean out and organize her sewing box.

Now, when she walked into the dining room and looked at the table and saw what I was up to, she muttered something about "obsessive" and "compulsive" and I think I may have heard the word "disorder", but it was anything but disorderly. She rolled her eyes when I said that I thought the spools of thread were beautiful. She always kept the spools on their ends, but as luck would have it, they also fit neatly on their sides.

"It's like a puzzle," I explained. 

"You need medication!" she retorted.

"Pfffttt. Nuh uh."