Shrinky Dink

Yesterday, I was a little late in the week for doing laundry. Remember when our grandmas would race to see who would be the first to get it out on the clothes line? That was always a Monday, with the ironing on Tuesday, and the baking on Wednesday. Who remembers the rest of the woman’s work week in the 1950’s? I used to have the weekly chores on cute little hankies for each day of the week. They pictured little girls playing house. I still play at keeping house. So, in my haste, I threw all of my husband’s golf shirts in the dryer because they are all that wonderful, breathable polyester. Wrong. The orange one looked like it went through the Shrinky Dink machine. Oops, the label says 100% cotton. I don’t have a clothes line, but I do have a wooden rack to air dry our clothes. It may be converted into stretching rack- no not for the shirt- for me to be stretched and tortured into confession about my careless ways. Actually, that sounds really good right now for my lower back pain. If I was meant to be a domestic goddess, I’d keep house for others professionally for a lot of money. I am just a humble housewife instead, with the great reward of caring for my happy husband.imageHe says that that I could shrink the national debt based on the number of cotton shirts that I have altered. But seriously, why haven’t they invented a washer and dryer that cleans clothes without disasters. My father-in-law would say, ” It is the operator, not the equipment”. He was talking about golfers and golf clubs, but I am sure the same applies to modern laundry techniques. There was an incident many years ago when a red item slipped into the wash with my husband’s white T shirts. They make the best pink dust clothes now and they don’t get confused with his new white shirts. Is there something I can learn from my wash day faux pas? Read the labels! To know what we are getting and what we have, it is imperative to look at the labels so judiciously provided on everything. This increases my shopping time in the grocery store these days. Even though I buy as much fresh food as possible, there are some cans and boxes necessary for my kitchen and I do not want anything with preservatives or additives or unpronounceable ingredients. I sometimes struggle to say “cinnamon”, but that does not count. It would be nice if we could read people too. We try to put labels on people, but it is never accurate or fair. So, for people we must use the delicate cycle and never put them in a hot situation or our friendships will surely shrink. The important thing is to take a little extra time in the things we do for proper discernment. Now, about that national debt, please send me your money and I will be happy to launder it.

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Dance to the Music

Yesterday, was a great day on Daniel Island, full of whimsy, excitement, and old fashioned fun. Much of America is celebrating Independence Day the whole weekend. I love the parades and the family gatherings because it demonstrates community spirit and pride. My day started with an unplanned trip to the nail salon because I ran out of polish remover and desperately wanted to change my green toes to red. I rode there on my bike (which was once my daughter’s) and got and extra strong calf massage, because he could sense I needed it. After, I stopped to play the public piano that I was delighted to find outside the music academy. Then, off to the beach with The Howards. We were not there an hour when the strong winds blew in a foreboding front of dark clouds. Everyone decided at once to run for their cars and we all got baptized while it poured for the next two hours. This did not stop music planned for the park in the evening. The grass was wet but thousands turned out for the Charleston Community Band Concert. My heart was charmed by all the children marching around in their red white and blue. Hair ribbons and flags waving in time with the beat. A soul imageband started up right after bringing all ages to the dance floor which extended well into the surrounding grass. Our friends Lorna and Marlene ended up on center stage (yes we pushed them) for a little “shake it down now” competition. If we look at life as a “dance to the music”, every part of living becomes joyful. We ran to the rhythm of the rain, we marched to the music of the band, I peddled to the song of the birds, we boogied to the beat of the soul band, my fingers danced on the open air keyboard, and the music played on. Listen for the music in your daily lives. Do the dance that brings you joy.