She’s no Nancy
These little guys caused me a lot of pain this weekend. Who knew crafting could be so dangerous?
I sliced my thumb open on a piece of sharp plastic while trying to shove a new spool of thread onto the spoke in my thread organizer. I jammed my seam ripper into my pointer finger. And, worst of all, I sewed these bags, hunched over my sewing machine for hours, when I should have been nursing my bad back. And the next day, I paid for it. I. Was. In. Pain. I spent Sunday cringing every time I moved.
Before moving to Tampa in January, I had regular appointments with Nancy, the world’s best massage therapist. I get horrible knots in my upper back, and visiting Nancy every six to eight weeks kept them at bay and severely decreased my back pain.
Nancy’s pressure was perfect. She knew where all my problem areas were. She talked just enough to make me feel comfortable while still allowing me to completely relax. I trusted her 100 percent. She has spoiled me for all other massage therapists.
Since moving to Tampa, I haven’t bothered finding a new massage therapist because I know nobody will compare to Nancy. But after spending three days barely able to turn my head, I made an appointment for earlier this evening with someone a friend recommended.
She did a really good job, and I actually do feel better. But the whole time, I kept thinking, “That’s not how Nancy does that,” and “Nancy usually dims the lights more than this,” and “She’s good, but she’s no Nancy.”
I’ll make an appointment with Nancy next month, when I’m in town visiting my parents for Thanksgiving. I’ll have to tell her that I saw someone else, but I’ll also tell her “She wasn’t you.” She’ll understand.
These bags will be for sale in The Boutique very soon. Both bags are made of sturdy corduroy and lined in a contrasting cotton fabric. Each is about 14″ wide at its widest point.
A third bag is halfway done and will be completed when my back is feeling better. (Yes, I learned my lesson.)