my mama.

I just talked to my mother for an hour. Not because it's mother's day. Well that's why I called, but we have hour long conversations all the time. She's a good friend and we can talk about most anything. I feel lucky. Amongst many other traits I get all of my craftiness from my mom. Not long ago when I was making bags out of duct tape she started her own bag business too, she lives in Jersey and makes really fancy bags that rich ladies buy. She sells them at craft fairs and brings them to stores and we can talk about what a drag it is waiting until the last minute to make a ton of bags for a sale we have in two days. Recently, when I was visiting her she brought me into her studio to pick out some bags I wanted, "It's a mess in here" she said as she turned on the light, I gasped, fabric everywhere, her supplies in no particular order, the floor barely walkable. I wasn't shocked at her mess I was shocked at how identical, I mean identical her studio looked to mine. It may look a total disastrous mess to most, but if you need a spool of red thread or that piece of fabric with horses on it she'll produce it in a second. We organize our lives the same way my mom and I. And if she's what I'm turning into than I'm not the least bit disappointed, she's been through a hell of a lot with us six kids and in her own life before we came around and never once have I heard her complain. She's of tough stock my mom, and she's funny as all hell, and isn't she pretty?


This is her in 1977 when I was 1.
And below is a picture of her in 1970, when she was visiting her family in Sicily, I'm pretty sure those are her cousins. My mom is the one all in black with the sunglasses on.