A few days ago I had a birthday. My loving wife planned that we go to Seattle and visit a certain address downtown. I was driving but had no idea where we were going (I could insert a lame joke right about now, but will refrain). We got off the ferry in Edmonds and hit the local Goodwill since it happened to be on the way. Then onto I-5 south, bound for the big metropolis. We exited I-5 and wound around in the bowels of downtown Seattle. Oh look, there's the Sheraton, where we spent our honeymoon night. Nope, that wasn't the surprise. A few more blocks and we were stopped at a stop light. I wasn't very observant because my wife finally had to point out a building across the intersection...
Wow, they had a lot of sewing machines in their windows. We found a place to park and took a stroll through the store.
Two stories of sewing machines, window after window filled with them. A sewing machine nut's dream. And many of them, maybe half, were hand crank. Wow.
Thank you, wife of mine! I love you.
Ok, my wife is standing here as I'm putting the finishing touches on this entry and I won't let her read it until the masterpiece is complete (very similar to Rembrandt not letting people see his unfinished works, I'm sure). She asked if I mentioned her, and I said she'd have to wait until I was done. So what did she do? She whacked me on the shoulder. I'm so abused... But I still love her.