“Shush!” I tell K, by way of encouragement.
She is at her newly acquired sewing machine, struggling with the spool or the spindle or whatever it is. I am at the laptop twittering. She came back to the apartment this afternoon with some blue print cotton and in an impressively few minutes has knocked out a thoroughly decent looking sleeveless top. No pattern or anything to work from. Nothing gets K going like couture. It must occur to her from time to time that I am not so much of a catch on that front – my idea of fashion is a “nice white shirt” or – if the occasion requires serious effort – a blazer.
The buying of the machine was a mental milestone for her. We have both been nervous this summer. Not nervous bad; nervous good. We are approaching the end of our first year here and so all self-congratulation must now be put aside; we have to get serious – we made the move to chase our dreams and we haven’t caught up with them yet. We are beginning to see that year two will be more pivotal for us than year one. We will need very good Spanish and a lot of guts. We will need to embrace the shot in the dark, the white knuckle, the wing, the prayer. More