It's 5 in the morning! Usually this is when my alarm starts to wake me up. I am halfway convinced that if I just decide to stay awake until tonight, that will mean that right now I am rising early, a good little bit of clean living, farmer's almanac etc. But only halfway, which is fortunate.

Today I have reanimated my grandmother's sewing machine, with some help from boy! It's from 1941. The manual starts off by describing how to connect it to alternating current OR direct current. Hee! On the Singer website, they say if your machine is this old you should just call them with the serial number and they'll tell you what model it is. I have the manual, though, tucked away in grandma's sewing box, along with various bits and pieces of the machine, wound bobbins in hideous colours, oil & lubricant, a dirty muppet toothbrush (purple. gonzo.), a dried rosebud, a packet of brown sugar, and plenty of crud. The lid is lost, so I'll have to find a new box and decide what I should keep and what parts are things whose purpose I'll never figure out, let alone use. I suspect the brown sugar fits in this latter category.

Anyway. I dusted it off, and oiled everywhere I should and a few places I probably shouldn't have, and lubricated the motor. Boy disassembled a few things to fish out some mysterious green thread, and then after a few tries we reassembled it the right way. And it works! 61 years old, the dear thing, and it works like a charm. How is that for a wonder! To think I nearly bought a new machine to avoid having to deal with this one. I don't think I could buy a machine today as well-made and durable as this one. This one is the 221-1: Portable Featherweight. So this was the flimsy model back then. Heh. Plastic is a wonderful thing with many excellent uses, but I think from now on I will try to avoid buying anything plastic unless nothing else is available or it really is the most suitable material. Because what a wonderful thing, to have a 61 year old machine that hasn't been touched in 12 years which starts right up after a half hour of simple attention. I bet I could pass this on to MY grandchildren, if they were interested. What a wonderful thing.

Ten pin bowling is hard! So is five-pin, I guess. Boy's office party tonight. His boss is so sweet. He reminds me of my uncle bruce - a slightly unruly mustache and a running commentary on life that escapes being inane by being so happy. I met his wife for the first time and she is also so sweet. They just dance along through life together.

Anyway, I felt a bit like joining a bowling league. Bowling seems like just the sort of hobby for me: no special stamina or strength or coordination needed; short attention span an asset. It's the slow jogging of team sports. It's the recorder of team sports. It's the latchhook kit of team sports. In short, it's right up my alley, man. Ha ha, that wasn't intentional. Did I mention it's 5 AM?

In the very bottom basement floor, there is only one button for the elevator, because it only goes in one direction from there. The button is an arrow pointing down. I just noticed this today, and it makes me so, so happy. I tried to change the button on my floor, the top floor, to point up, but it's stuck on pretty well. I think we've already modified the elevator quite enough (the smoke detector doesn't go off for cigarettes! boo. oh well, we tried.) for one apartment. On the other hand, we are boiling over with mischief in general and goodness knows if it isn't the elevator YOU might be next!

5:21, more at. La la! Bed time! Sleep sleep go to sleep!