When she answered my phone call I went right into it, “Hey Grams… You’ll never guess what I’m doing right now.” To which she replied, “Gee Moll, I don’t know, what?” Before we go any further, I should mention that it’s best if you imagine my grandma’s voice having inflections that mirror a mothers’ on any American 1950’s television sitcom: i.e. “Gee Moll, I don’t know, what?”
“Guess,” I returned playfully as if she didn’t already know that, like always, I would build suspense in this way. “Just guess, Grams!” And she played along, offering a generous list of possible presumptions.
Finally I gushed, “I’m ironing!” and she, “Why that’s wonderful!” again in a genial and sincere June Cleaver. Grams has been wanting me to get (and use) a clothing iron for decades now. So naturally, after I bought one and when I began using it she was the first person I thought to tell. And you my friends…are second.
On another note, I’m beginning to actually feel like a 1950’s house wife; scooting my shiny iron around the surrounding red, white and bluery. Pretending that my “This American Life” podcast is a radio show doesn’t help. Sporting pin curls definitely doesn’t help. Yet here I stand, iron in hand, dismissing wrinkles to my little heart’s content with the promise of a curly-headed tomorrow.
Happy Patriot’s Day.
Good for you. I don’t like the wrinkle look. I can’t convince my daughter that if you throw the clothes in the drier a few minutes, take them out, shake each piece put on a hanger and button top button and pull the seams, later after finish dring you only need to press the sleeves and maybe the front alittle.
It makes me happy to know that you find can contentment in the little things. I hope you’ll always be able to do that. It is a blessing!