BoomerGirl Diary

My mother failed to impress upon me that it was important to be able to cook, bake, keep house, iron, sew ... skills that had a tendency to attract men, which may explain why I didn't marry until my mid-thirties and that when I did marry I chose The Sainted One, making sure that he would be capable of feeding me and that together we would make enough money to always allow for a twice-monthly professional housecleaning.

But yesterday, The Sainted One (aptly-named, you now realize, given the above) asked me to sew a button on a pair of shorts.

And I did it.

Back in my mother's day, it would have been but a single chore in a big pile of them: darning socks, doing a load of wash, hanging clothes on the line to dry, preparing food, mending ... but for me, it was a big deal. Such a big deal, in fact, that I've deemed it essay-worthy.

The Sainted One – knowing that I have the general sewing aptitude of a junior high school lacrosse team – made his petition with great care. He brought it up after I'd had my morning coffee and a hearty breakfast, posing it as a polite statement/question: "I know that you don't sew, but a button fell off of my shorts. Could you sew it on for me?" After a few beats: "You're so pretty." And after a few more: "What would you like for dinner tonight?" I acknowledged his request with a raised eyebrow, and he added that a.) he'd placed the shorts and the button on the dresser upstairs; and that b.) this was his favorite pair of shorts, ever.

And indeed, he had placed them neatly on the high boy as if making an offering to the Seamstress Gods on a sacred plinth. The wayward button was there as well.

I knew that there was a tiny emergency sewing kit hidden somewhere in the house. I'd taken it from a hotel room on a business trip, never dreaming that I'd actually need it. So the first thing I had to do was find it, and I considered it a major victory when I did. I also considered it a major victory when I discovered that it actually included thread that was within the same color family as the shorts.

The last time I threaded a needle, I lived alone in an apartment and wasn't wearing graduated bifocals, so this took some time. Then figuring out where the button should be placed took some time as well. It was a 4-hole button. I wasn't sure if I should "X" across it, or make parallel lines. I chose parallel. I wasn't sure how to tie it off when done, either, so I made a few knotty flourishes at the end, hoping that it would do. I was quite proud of myself.

I only hope that the button doesn't pop off and put somebody's eye out if The Sainted One sneezes. And he'd better not make a habit of this ....