My grandmother was a seamstress. Actually she was Parisian-trained and could cut a pattern freehand.

(At one time she employed ten other women to do the actual sewing of the seams for her. In these times she would be called a “Businesswoman”. But those were the days when men were men and womens’ efforts didn’t really count. So, a seamstress).

We left for the other side of the world when I was six. Before we went, she only had time to teach me how to sew on a button.

My favorite casual shorts. They have been like this for a year.

I wear plenty of long t-shirts, and sometimes band-aids on my fingers.

I know my grandmother would be proud. But not of my efforts in the button fixing department.