To Iron or Not to Iron…

I’m one of those people…who irons her clothes…and then ten minutes after I have them on…look like I’ve slept in them for a week…I made note of that this morning as I slipped on a nicely pressed linen top…

Not sure what the deal is…I see other women in similar outfits…looking fresh as a daisy…crisp and creased…while I look like I pulled mine from the bottom of the laundry hamper…

So…I bemoaned…just a bit…as I dressed this morning…and…Bertha…being…Bertha…had something to say about it…short and sweet and to the point…if it bothers you to be wrinkled…don’t wear linen…

Hmmm…

She went on to say…that the fact that my top was wrinkled wasn’t what was bothering me…it was what people might say about me that was really bugging me…

And…she’s right…I’m thinking that someone else is thinking that I’m too lazy to iron…or some other derogatory comment…

Truth is…she says…it’s none of my business what others think…that’s their ball of wax…and…that…most of them aren’t really focusing on my wrinkles anyway…they are either focusing on their own issues…or how I’m treating them in the moment…

But…if I can’t be happy…knowing I’ve ironed…and that linen just wrinkles easily…then…maybe just maybe…I should wear polyester double knit…

And…I think…that’s probably one of the smartest things she’s ever said…

Jane

A Pitcher’s Worth a Thousand Words…

Yesterday morning as I made peach tea in my favorite pitcher…Bertha…brought back a memory…and a lesson…of course…

The pitcher is thick, bluish tint glass…kind of imperfect looking with tiny bubbles…and a cobalt blue rim…I always think of Mexico when I see it…I remember buying it…over twenty years ago…in fact…they were on sale…I bought two…one to use…and one to sit above my cabinets for decoration…

Not so long after its purchase…my youngest daughter was making tea…possibly for the first time…and I failed to tell her…or she forgot…that you don’t pour hot liquid directly into glass…the pitcher cracked…she was upset…I reassured her that we’d all learned that lesson at some point…not to worry…it was one she wouldn’t forget…and she didn’t…I simply switched places with the two pitchers…the cracked one on display…the other still in use to this day…

Bertha’s…point was that some lessons only require once to learn…another memory came floating by…my oldest daughter…a toddler…a wood burning stove…caution…hot…don’t touch…that one tiny pointer finger with a not so tiny blister…tears…mine as much as hers…but…she learned the meaning of…hot…and she never forgot…

Other lessons…however…are not so permanent…they are slippery…kind of like chasing a greased pig…just when you think you’ve got it…it squirms out of your grasp…but…unlike the elusive pig…they return another day…in another way…

For me…those lessons tend deal with…letting go…forgiveness…self-doubt…and…they surface from time to time…and…each time they do…I do what some call peeling the onion…but I call peeling the artichoke…I like the visual better…tough spiny leaves on the outside…followed by a hairy choke…then…tender tasty heart in the center…working through the layers…getting deeper every time…

I used to think that like cracked pitchers and blistered fingers…this should be a one-time lesson…but…I see now…with Bertha’s help…that it isn’t…it isn’t an event…it’s a process…ongoing…getting deeper…getting better…over time…

Jane