Posted tagged ‘ironing’

“It’s true, I’ve become one of those grumpy older women.”

November 10, 2015

This morning I had a meeting at 9. When I got home, I went back to bed and slept almost three hours. The clouds and the dampness don’t seem to engender high spirits and frivolity. I’m tired and I’m grouchy, and I pity anyone who crosses my path. Luckily, though, I’m in for the day so the rest of the world is safe from me.

Working in a high school meant dealing with people, mostly teenagers, all day long. I was generally pleasant but occasionally had one of those days. When I did, the news about my mood spread like wildfire among the kids. They knew this was not a day to be tossed from class. This was a day to walk on egg shells and be especially polite.

Nothing will be accomplished by me today. The laundry sits in the hall as testament to my lack of energy and my lack of interest. The other day I went through the closet to find all my winter hats and mittens. I knocked down some games, some books and a couple of coats. I found almost everything except two mittens are singles. Somewhere are the other two. I, however, choose not to tackle the closet again as I expect that what I put back is tenuous and might just fall again. Usually I would be obsessed with the need to rejoin the couples. Not today!

I do have some napkins which need to be ironed. They have been piled on the desk chair for a few months, okay maybe even a bit longer than that. I’m thinking I might just iron them today. It’s an easy task, unlike the laundry which necessitates up and down stairs a few times then folding the clothes and putting them away. With the napkins I can sit down and use my table as an ironing board. I can even watch TV. This day might just go down in the annals as one filled with accomplishment.

Tomorrow I have a doctor’s appointment. He’s keeping an eye on my cholesterol and checks it every six months. When he asks me how I’ve been feeling, I don’t think he’ll take grouchy as an answer, but I might just give it to him anyway. After all, he did ask.

“The cat wrinkled its nose and managed to look unimpressed. “Calling cats,” it confided, “tends to be a rather overrated activity. Might as well call a whirlwind.”

September 24, 2015

A gorgeous day today with temperatures in the mid 70’s, lots of sun and a northern breeze chilly on the back of my neck. Grace and I went to the dump this morning, and it was nearly deserted. I guess Thursday is not a popular dump day.

When the breeze blows, I can hear the rustling sounds of the leaves on the trees and of the few which have fallen on the grass, victims of the wind rather than the season. We are still far away from changing colors and the baring of the trees. Today is more of summer than fall.

My dance card is empty until Sunday. I guess I’m stuck doing the wash, a bit of ironing and changing my bed. The ironing is dinner napkins which tend to get really wrinkly even in the dryer. I have a small board I can fit on the table and iron while I watch TV. I save all the napkins until I get a large enough number to make ironing worth while. At last count I had ten.

Cats are tricky creatures. Yesterday morning Maddie never appeared for our morning greeting. I called her by name and made that lip sound cats seem to like but still no Maddie. I got worried so I checked all her favorite haunts on this floor then went upstairs and looked in the eaves, under beds and in closets in case I had locked her in. All the while I kept making that sound, still no Maddie. Fern, from her perch on the couch, stared at me as if I were crazy. Gracie followed me. I went upstairs again and pulled the guest beds out from the wall in case I had missed her way in the back where under the bed is the darkest. No Maddie. I came back downstairs worried about her and wondering where else I could look. I didn’t have to look anywhere. Maddie was standing on the table in the den. I patted her and scratched by her tail though I really wanted to wring her neck. I swear she was chuckling

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”

September 4, 2014

School started here today. I heard the kids walking to the bus stop at the end of the street. Two parents with coffee in hands were with them. At about nine the five boys finally boarded the bus but not before they’d hung off a tree branch, climbed another tree and chased each other. Right now the summer rental next door is having its weeds mowed, and I can hear the clicking when the mower hits rocks. It hasn’t been a quiet morning.

At the housewarming party friends threw for me when I bought this house in 1977 one of the gifts was an iron. I’d do my wash, hang up everything which needed to be ironed on a line downstairs, and when I had a enough clothes, I’d set up the ironing board, watch TV and iron my clothes. I’d do that every couple of weeks. I still have that iron, and it looks as good as new. I can’t even remember the last time I used it. When my nephew started school in the mid-1980’s, he was given a test of reading readiness. The only thing on any part of the test he couldn’t identify was an iron. I only one person who still irons, and he is mystified that I don’t. My clothes have that right out of the dryer look, but they’re never wrinkled enough for ironing except for a couple of linen shirts which I do wash but bring to the cleaners for ironing. My iron can now be described as vintage 1970’s.

When I went to Ghana, I didn’t bring any music, but my mother sent me a cassette recorder and some of my tapes. The recorder was that rectangular one we all had. My camera was an Instamatic. Pop in the film and take your pictures. My mother had to send slide film to me as Ghana had no film at all for the camera, not even film for stills. I had to send the finished films to my mother to be developed. When my house was broken into, the thief left the camera.

I have some albums which I first bought on vinyl, then cassette, then CD’s and now I upload new ones or ones I don’t have from iTunes and similar sites. I can’t remember the last cookbook I bought, and I used to collect cookbooks. The only ones I’d buy now are those based on novels or authors to add to my collection.

I have a CD player, a multi-zone DVD player, an HD TV, which was the first in the neighborhood, an iPad, an iPod, and an iPhone. The phone needs to be upgraded but I don’t really care. It does enough for me. I know there is blue-tooth to replace my DVD player so I’m behind a generation, but I don’t care about that either.

I use to be filled with wonder at all the changes my grandmother had seen in her lifetime: from the beginning of air flight to the trip to the moon being the most amazing. I have grown up and gotten older in a world where change is a constant. Think about it. It is now so commonplace we seldom even notice.

“My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.”

August 31, 2010

Today I want to conjure the spirit of Mr. Rogers so he can sing It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood because it most decidedly is. A breeze, ever so slight, keeps the sun at bay and makes the deck the perfect spot to spend the day. I do have a few errands, but they shouldn’t take more than an hour then it’s back to the deck.

When I was a kid, I walked to school because my father left early every day to go to work. Most families back then only had that one car, the one our fathers drove, so we all walked. My mother didn’t even learn to drive until she was in her late 30’s. The walk wasn’t a long one and in the fall and spring was a pretty walk on sidewalks shaded by towering trees. Rainy days were the worst for walking. I never carried an umbrella so I always got soaked. My shoes got the worst. As I walked, they sometimes bubbled at the seams from all the water.

Changing into play clothes was the very first thing I always did when I got home from school. On rainy days, my mother would hang up my wet skirt, my uniform skirt, as I only had one. She’d let it dry a bit then iron it while it was still damp. My mother always ironed the clothes when they were slightly damp. It was the easiest way to iron out all the creases.

I sometimes watched my mother iron. She used to take the clothes, sprinkle water on them from a bottle of water with a perforated top she used to keep by the ironing board then fold them and put them in a basket to dampen. This was before steam irons so my mother sort of made her own steam with the water.

At my surprise house warming thirty odd years ago, someone gave me a steam iron as a gift. I still have it. I also have a plastic spray bottle, a descendant of  my mother’s glass bottle. I used it to spray the creases.

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