I got Brooke a broken sewing machine for Christmas.
I didn't know for sure it was broken, but I should have. The majority of an evening was spent scrubbing the filthy machine I had found in a classified ad. It was no doubt in a basement for the past 25 years. When I went to pick the sewing machine up, a teenage boy shyly greeted me at the door. Few words were exchanged. It was free.
I commissioned Barbara to help me figure out how to use it, but we only got so far. The free sewing machine is in my trunk now. Brooke has a shiny new one ready to mend the holes in my pants' pockets.
Apparently sewing is on the up and up among those in my generation. There's a trend among the hip and crafty.