On the bus this morning, a kid was teaching his younger brother how to spell ‘apple’:
Elder: No, Ah-puh-puh-luh-eh
Younger (eventually): Ah-puh-puh-luh-eh
Elder: That’s right, Ah-puh-puh-luh-eh.
Younger: Can you spell tangerine?
Elder (after a pause): Well, no.
I thought it was hilarious.
My patching idea for the Make-do-and-Mend bag has changed a bit. I did some darning on two corners, which I’m really not good at. And now, I’ve started a patch on a third, but not with fabric from the old friend’s umbrella. I had thought it would be nice to use a fabric that had a personal meaning. Like an old-timey patchwork quilt, where every fabric had a different story. But that umbrella has a powerful floral pattern, and I've got a lot of mixed feelings about losing that friendship. It all just made me reticent.
That's actually a phrase from that friendship. I can't remember how it originated with us, and it probably involved a few other friends, but if there was something we knew we ought to do, but didn't want to, and couldn't quite put into words why we felt that way, we'd just say, "I'm reticent." So much fancier than saying "lazy".
Anyway, I'm using scraps from a plain black umbrella instead. (Someday, I'll explain to the world about Manchester and umbrellas, but not today.) My issues with lost friendships can stay on the shelf for now.