It looks like my last post was truncated -- most disconcerting (a good time to exclaim... well, what can I exclaim?) since no copy of it exists. And of course I had spent a long time crafting it and have to redo it all.
As I was saying...
Darning is something one does to repair holes in socks and clothing, laying down close (but loose, if that seems possible) rows of stitches going across one way and then another, filling the hole. When I've tried it, which is to say never again will I, it ends up as a hideous wad of thread.
When I spied a hole in Lee's shirt, I realized that:
a) it wouldn't bother him much, and
b) it would bother me.
But I asked him, the experienced bachelor, what he did to fix a hole. "Plug it," he said.
So I did. I plugged it with a worm (pictured in previous post, I think; please excuse cell phone fuzziness). He seemed somewhat charmed with my mending surprise, and attempted to pull the worm out, only to find it firmly attached.
He wore the worm-decorated shirt out for the evening, as we attempted to dine out for a late dessert. We wanted something warm, maybe a pie The first restaurant we went to had cakes and cheesecakes, all made in Indiana, said the clerk, who gave us the impression that Indiana cakes were the best.
The window also contained what she claimed was an apple tart. This item was four or five inches across, an inch and a half high, and just visible in the bottom of the crust were scattered a few dessicated carcasses of apple slices, perhaps a quarter inch deep.
We discussed this pitiful item with the clerk.
"Do you fill it with something?" I asked.
"If you want," she said, looking puzzled.
"Whipped cream?" I asked.
"If you want," she said.
"I'd say it needs apples," said Lee (oh, for the logic of an engineer).
The next place we tried had bready stuff, donut cousins such as cream-filled danish and the like.
The next place we tried was Walmart, where we bought a cherry pie in a box, took it to the condo, microwaved it, and topped it with ice cream. Most satisfying.
It is disappointing, however, to reflect that no one seemed to notice the worm perched on the shoulder of Lee's shirt. Maybe next time.