09/19/2026
JUST ANOTHER NORMAL DAY 😂
I have three jobs.
I’m an MRI tech, an embroiderer, and an animal farmer.
Apparently, I enjoy making my life as complicated as possible.
At the hospital, I’m keeping people safe around a giant magnet.
At home, I’m keeping the animals safe from themselves. In my embroidery room, I’m keeping the machine from making bird nests while trying to stop a 10-million-stitch design from puckering and depleting the entire United States thread market.
Then there are the customers.
They don’t always understand that an AI image can’t necessarily be turned into an embroidery design. It matters.
“Can you embroider this?”
No, that’s screen printing.
No, that’s vinyl.
No, that’s a detailed road map of the United States, and they don’t make enough thread to cover it.
And a monogram is usually three letters—not your entire family tree.
Then there’s:
“I don’t know what I want. You pick something cute.”
Lesson learned: What I think is cute isn’t necessarily what everyone else thinks is cute.
Nope. They really wanted a polka-dotted hippopotamus wearing a pink tutu.
Then someone says:
“Don’t use green in the leaves. Use chartreuse.”
Of course.
Because apparently green isn’t green enough.
And then somebody wants 50 pairs of size-52 underwear monogrammed for Memaw at the nursing home instead of just using a Sharpie.
At that point, I wonder what happened to the days when people bought underwear and left it alone.
😂
Every now and then, somebody asks:
“Can you put a zipper in this?”
“Can you hem that?”
“I wanted sequins!”
I embroider.
But apparently, owning a sewing machine means I can do anything involving fabric.
Meanwhile, Farmer Steve is somewhere on the farm doing something he probably shouldn’t be doing.
And I’m yelling:
“STEVE!”
He yells back:
“WHAT?”
“I don’t know yet! I just know I need you to stop!”
😂😂😂
That’s pretty much my life.
I go to work, come home, pretend to do embroidery, and hope Steve fed the animals and remembered to turn off the water hose before flooding the valley.
Then I go to bed and arrange my dogs.
I tell Piper to shut up.
I tell Elvis to move over.
I let Josie give me night-night kisses. I swear her tongue is searching for gold in my nose. 🤣
Joe Bob and Ella are tucked tightly under the covers, and of course, Steve and I have none. We barely have room to sleep. One big, happy pack of love.
Then Rute, my kitten, chases her tail across our worn-out bodies while we’re unconscious from the daily grind—and, of course, the Ambien.
It takes Ambien to sleep in this house.
Eventually, I wake up.
Then I do it all again.
Because apparently normal is just not my thing. 😂
