So, the other day I was doing some mending. And I started to feel a strange mix of ridiculousness / pride at patching up these jeans. I mean, first of all, they were hand me downs to begin with. Free. (thank you, J!) And then Calvin wore them so much that they needed a few patches, which then got ripped again. I'm a bit puzzled as to why I then decided they were worth 'saving' for the next child. But I did, and so just this week, I dragged them up from the basement for Ez. They went right in the mending pile, as they clearly needed more patching. So as I was sewing them up and having this conversation in my head about the logic of this whole thing, I had an odd sense of deja vu.
Which led me to dig around my closet, until I found these. My jeans from junior high school. Thrifted, plenty patched (same blanket stitch for crying out loud), and embroidered. (By the way, they don't fit now, and I can't imagine that they ever will.) I'm not really sure what all of this says about me.
- I'm thrifty? Um, perhaps.
- I'm insane and can't throw anything away? Nope, not true!
- Old habits die hard? Yes, I'm sure that's it!
(And yes, this is post #3 in a row in which you see the yummy pear fabric. Oh, but it isn't gone yet!)
