November 22, 2004
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UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA. I tended to my mending pile last night. Let me elaborate on that a bit so as to fully relay the magnitude of this paranormal experience. First, The Mending Pile should be described accurately. It is not an approachable pile on the corner of a dresser, say maybe a skirt with a falling hem section and a couple of shirts with stray buttons. Nay, ye of naive and dare I say it, amateur aspirations in mending, My Mending Pile is often taller than my youngest child (when it deigns to stand of its own volition – the pile, not the child). My Mending Pile includes articles of clothing purchased for one member of the family and now, once mended must be passed down immediately one, maybe two notches due to what we call…natural growth and passage of time. My Mending Pile includes pillow sham covers for pillows that were tossed out because the smell of rancid breast milk could no longer be tolerated by the entire family! I haven’t breastfed a child in eighteen months!! So I think you are getting the picture.
Last night I tended to my mending pile. I went upstairs and fetched my sewing machine and sewing kit. I tossed each piece that had outlived its usefulness (nobody here requires a snappy-crotch closure anymore as far as I’m concerned, unless somebody is developing a fetish they haven’t clued me in on yet), I pre-pinned each piece to be mended, I pre-picked each spool of matching thread, and here’s where I scared even myself: I had a matching bobbin for each thread color, which, as it turned out was seven. I changed the thread and bobbin seven times. Seven times. What kind of Martha-fuckin-Stewart moment was I having??? And some of these pieces were coming out of the Singer and going into the laundry. Go figure. It must be some sort of strange flu. Vaccinate me now.
So this morning my daughter got to wear the jeans I bought for her two months ago and needed 5-1/2 inches taken off of. Ummm…okay, she’s not exactly a rail or anything, but for crying out loud, I didn’t buy them in the Future Super Model section!! They’re a size 7, she’s 6 years old, and she’s the right height for her age (even a little tall) and only a little roly, so do you you think somebody could figure out that she’s not going to be borrowing shoes from Bootsy Collins!?!?!?!?! puh-lease.
Comments (3)
I had one of those control-freak-Martha moments when I cleaned the bathrooms on Saturday. It was lovely.
It must be something in the air, I had a Martha moment and went through all 10 bins full of cloths that I’ve been saving for…I don’t know what! I fixed stuff the one kid can wear now, and donated lots! Now what do I do with all the empty bins? I know!!! Put all the toys in them!
My Mom lives with us and sews, but her mending pile is the size of a small child too. We work on the pile together, but I do the hand sewing, and she does the machine sewing. Are we going to have to start calling you Martha now?