First, my new computer! After dealing with a 6yo that had last year developed Alzheimers and could not recognize its own CD drive, a couple of months ago, the monitor started acting up. Turn it on, watch the pretty green light....nothing on the screen. Now, there was a trick...within a few minutes, the monitor would shut itself down, then you had to very quickly turn it back on (or start all over with the waiting) and finally, pictures. Gradually, that few minutes turned into ten, then 15...then the other day, it just would not shut down.
Rather than spend a couple hundred on a monitor, we found a good deal for the entire package. Now I just have to get used to Vista, and the way folders are set up. And get all my info from the other computer somehow...
Now, I'm really not sure if what I felt insulted about was meant as an insult. I was contacted through one of my shops regarding a pattern, could I possibly share it? I did reply stating that it was for sale in my other shop. I heard back that no, they meant free. They knew some people were nice, and thought I might be one.
Okay, I got to thinking: did this person mean 'share' as in copy someone else's pattern and illegally send it? I know people do this, but I just couldn't.
Or, do some designers really hand out their patterns offered for sale just because someone asks? It's kinda like going into a coffee shop you've never been to before, ask for a free coffee and then tell them that you thought they might be nice.
Honestly, I don't think it was meant how it came out, so I'm not really offended! I do have to get back to the person and let her know I DO offer some free patterns.
I am a nice person. I think. Ask anyone who knows me. But, don't ask my mother. L-o-n-g story there, in fact I was told I should write a book. Suffice to say, someone who calls their own grandkids tattletales and crybabies for no reason other than spite toward the children's mother, I wouldn't trust her judgement on anything. And her comment about me not being a perfect mother either would have bothered me if I'd ever claimed to be perfect in the first place. Being imperfect is normal. Waking your kids up at 2 in the morning on a school night to scrub a pan that had been left to soak, or to clean a living room where nothing was out...or even to look for a comic book that your mother had been reading but misplaced...that's NOT normal.
Someday, maybe I'll share a bit about life with my mother. At times, it's so sad it's funny.