I don’t sew. The whole needle and thread thing is lost to me. If a button pops off, I figure I’ve still got a zipper.
For all you crafty people “I-can-macramé-feathers-into-gold.”
It’s not that I don’t TRY. I’m just challenged putting my IDEA into PRACTICE. So instead, I just oodle over your creations and buy them, much to Tim’s chagrin all, “DID YOU REALLY NEED THREE OF THESE LITTLE BAG THINGS?”
Yes. It came in three colors. And it’s a coin purse.
Tim: BUT YOU HAVE A WALLET.
Me: Well, I needed a coin purse.
Tim: You mean you needed THREE.
Me: A girl can never be too prepared.
Tim: You don’t even like purses.
Me: It’s a COIN PURSE. And I do now, thanks to my Coach collection. You did that, remember?
Anyhow…not the point I’m trying to make here…
Tim is the complete opposite of me.
He’s what we call special in the home ec department.
How many other men do you know that can expertly sew on buttons and stitch up dog toys?
That’s how many.
He is all about patching up toys that Maddie and Lexi decided would be entertaining to dissect, like this little duck. However, little duck will not be re-joining the ranks. It’s not that the quack is beyond repair, it’s because he’s the dumbest dog toy in the history of dog toys. When Tim found it the other day, ducky brains all over the floor, he was all, “Who thought THIS was a good idea? All these loose strings…perfect for shredding…”
I looked up at him from my seat on the couch, glanced at the toy and shrugged all, “Well, we were stupid enough to buy it.”
The duck is now on the practice squad. No suiting up for him.
We have other plush toys (that weren’t designed as a loofah and permanently benched) that required emergency, reparative surgery before they were shredded into unrecognizable bits.
Noodle, for one, needed a frontal lobotomy and has been renamed Scar Face.
Pinky has never known a life without slits for eyes, the result of Tim cutting out the choking hazard hard, plastic nodules when we first bought Pinky for Maddie, which left two gaping eye sockets and required like, laser vision surgery.
(By the way, we’ve found the BEST plush dog toys are one’s made for kids – seriously. They’re like, destroy proof. We’ve never had to replace a single one).
His tailoring skills go farther than toys…areas where the result actually has to look pretty or be positioned in the right place.
Tim has sewn my buttons back on that popped off, perfectly stitched up holes in shirts or pants I refuse to throw away and he’s all about removing stray threads from my clothes.
He came at me once with a blow-torch all, “Let me get that off.”
I just saw flames flying in my direction and reacted.
He woke up about fifteen minutes later with a size 11 heel imprint on his temple all, “WHAT THE HELL…IT WAS JUST A MATCH!”
Well, you shouldn’t have been rapidly advancing my direction with an open flame. The brain automatically says DANGER! and then assumes the defensive position. You should know that Mr. Prepare For The Worst In All Circumstances.
Takeaway message: Snip loose threads on all articles of clothing before they reach Jessica’s body.
And yes, my feet really are THAT big. I’m 5’10 and after 26 years, I have finally accepted my Sasquatch feet.
I know, I know…Eventually, I SHOULD learn how to do it…but I’m spoiled by my own, personal, live-in seamstress. Manly Stitcher.
Tim said to me the other day, while he was putting green thread through a needle for Noodle’s procedure, “You don’t even know how to do this, do you?”
Me: “Do what? Perform surgery? I don’t do blood. Remember?”
Tim: “Thread a needle.”
Me: ” Who needs to thread a needle when I’ve got you, honey?”
Tim: “Well, what if I decide I’m not paid enough for my services and go on strike?”
Me: “Then I guess I’m going to have to walk around with jackets missing buttons and pants that only zip and the loose threads will take over my entire wardrobe…It’ll be like…It’ll be like I’M WEARING DREDS!…Know what? Stop cutting my loose threads. I want to start a fashion trend.”
Tim: “You are a complete nerd, you realize that, right?”
Me: “And that’s why you married me.”
Tim: “Opposites attract, remember?”