Darn It!

Does anybody darn anymore? I think we as a society as a hole (ha ha-hole, get it?) throw things away when they get a bit of a tear. But I was raised back in the era of the abacus and I learned to darn at an early age.

My Dad wore white wool socks, and there was a basket of darning wool, a darning needle and one of those red aluminum drinking glasses used as a darning egg always on the floor by his closet door, ready to be grabbed up and used for repairs.

I remember when my Mom taught me to darn. She taught me to sew, iron, darn and wash dishes, but not to cook. Looking back I realize it wasn't because she thought those were useful skills to teach me, but rather they were the tasks she hated doing and so sluffed off onto me!

And I think those skills have come in mighty handy, regardless of the motive behind teaching them to me. But who in the world bothers to darn nowadays? OLD LADIES do! Or rather, they get their home helpers to do it for them.

So today my task was to bring home a very holey old purple wool sweater and darn at least 6 good sized holes as well as sew on a button. Why, that thing is now as good as new! She ought to get at least another decades worth of wear out of it!

As always, I had my assistant eager and ready to lend a helping hand.

First, I needed my needle, thread, sharp thread nippers and my wonderful wooden antique darning egg. Mackie, understanding the value of the egg, kept a close paw on it so it didn't roll away.

Always desirous of taking advantage of a good angle, Mackie poses for his close-up, Mr. DeMille.

I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am he is up and about, because I came very close to losing him last week. He got into some bad food and after throwing up violently five times in a row, crept under my bed and didn't come out for 5 days. I had to get him to lick water from my fingers and I cried every day thinking I would lose this dear friend of mine.

But he rallied at last with the help of some antibiotics and steroids to stimulate his appetite, and he seems to be none the worse for wear for having used up yet another of his nine lives. I figure he's used at least 4 of them by now, but a friend said it would be more like 7 since cats don't always let you know what kind of trouble they've gotten into when you weren't around.

Once the darning was underway, Mackie saw no more need to remain conscious, so he took a little cat nap...keeping his paw on the thread so it wouldn't get away, of course.

When he woke up he shoved the thread at me in a barely civil manner! It must have been annoying him in some way!

Last but not least he decided it was time to dispatch the scissors, too. I had to take these away from him, though, because I really don't want to push it in case he is really up to 8 lives, now!