H is for Hand me Downs

Thanks Ben Huberman for the prompt — write about hand me downs, which I prefer to call hand me ups (sounds more positive than the latter.)

Growing up with three brothers and no older sister, I did not wear hand me downs.  I would have liked to wear my brothers’ jeans, but my mother deemed them unladylike and  so that never happened.

But I did see value in things that other people cast aside.  My life is populated by hoards of things rescued and recycled (no, I am not a hoarder, unless you count my stash of fabric and other odd craft items,)  but I do reclaim, recycle and put to use: old furniture restored and loved;  tablecloths mended (all that’s requite is a centerpiece to cover the repair,) and waiting for a dinner party; old denims salvaged and made into quilts; and speaking of quilts, the one made of old men’s ties was the best of all recycling projects.

My treasures are found at yard sales and thrift stores.  I laughed with my daughter the other day when we talked about ‘Good Will Hunting’ (not the movie, but Goodwill hunting).  Maybe I’ll find ties there for another quilt.


Got something to season my kettle of soup? Stir it in and savor the flavor.

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