the irony of it...

last week my iron of 10 years gave up the ghost.

since he departed this world i have come to realize his value.

i only ever use an iron when i am making things.

i see now i was a fool not to give my iron a name.

for indeed in hindsight, his value was equal to that of Miss Ethel...

i am actually rather teary thinking about my little iron now,

how for many years he did his job without complaint,

knowing others around him had names of affection

and yet he was known simply as 'the iron'.

needing my little bits of fabrics to sit flat

i headed to the thrift store to see what i could see.

as i was on a mission, i had no time to listen to the weight of my heart.

knowing i was to step through the thrift store door without Our #1 by my side

was something i was not prepared to linger on.

with 'a hoppity and a skippity' i was over the threshold

and transported into 'hunt mode'.

unfortunately the irons laid out upon the shelves of despair,

were indeed a despairing lot.

i picked them all up individually, peering at their bottoms

and twiddling with their bits.

one after the other, i replaced them with a sigh.

i returned to the shed empty handed and a little fretful.

after all, i was deep in 'making wares for the shop' mode

(obviously it would appear last week i was in quite the mode)

just taking a breather from beavering away on making stock for the shop,

could spell disaster for moi.

Mr Procrastinator, whom lurks in cupboards and around corners in the shed,

well he sees these moments and pounces when i am at my most vulnerable.

to avoid arousing suspicion from Mr Procrastinator, thinking i had weakened,

i said in a loud voice

"no worries Tif, i have a cunning plan... tra la la la" in a rather over the top squeaky sort of way.

i heard him sigh and step back to the shadows.

then continued a conversation inside my head with the little voice.

"so" said the little voice "what you gonna do Tif, after all you cannot buy a new iron"

i pondered my response

"well technically little voice you are wrong. for it is most clear since 'the iron' passed onto a better life, that he is a tool of my trade, a well needed little fellow that without, i am unable to make hand crafted goodness"

the little voice gasped, quite taken a back by my cleverness

"true, true... but still does it not make you feel like you have let yourself down"

oh! that little voice is so good at what he does.

the next day i spoke to my man,

and this dearest readers is where the 'irony' of the whole matter comes into play

(actually do you like how the word 'irony' is used in a tale about irons, i like that very much, it actually is the kind of thing to make me smile)

for many, you will already know the tale, others perhaps not.

nearly two years ago, i turned the big 4-0.

i will admit it was a struggle for me,

for i was not supposed to get to 40 as quickly as i did.

however the struggle was made worse for moi

by the gift of a panini maker from my man.

now some may think me most ungrateful

but as i am totally crappity crap in the kitchen

i found to be gifted a kitchen gadget for turning 40

by someone who had 24 years to ponder his gift

was a little unfortunate.

the situation made a little worse by finding the receipt

and noting it had been purchased the day before.

however i can say no more, for there is closure on the issue.

actually before i say no more, can i just say,

not a day goes by when the panini maker isn't topic for conversation within the shed.

it has become the most loved piece of kitchen gadgetry we have...

Our #4 always asks "but surely mum after all this time,

you can see what a great gift it was?"

hoping one day i will cave and say "yes it was lovely wasn't it"

but i stand my ground and i stay strong,

advising him as only a mother to a son can do

"dearest child of mine, when you have been married for umpteen years

to the love of your life, do not be foolish enough to think a gift for the kitchen

is a gift worth giving.

whether you understand the wisdom of my words or not, is immaterial.

just heed them and heed them well"

roll on nearly two years and here i am talking to my man,

with the words 'the irony of it' going around and around my head.

"soooo" i began "you know my birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks"

to which he looked a little frightened.

i continued

"thing is, i know i gave you a really hard time over the panini maker but i have a situation here,

a situation that is causing me untold strife"

by now, i had his attention

"i was wondering if you may care to buy me a new iron and perhaps even better still, could i have it as an early birthday gift" i finished in a flourish and 'pretty please' grin

i have not seen the light in my man's eyes look quite so sparkly in quite the while.

i could see the cogs turning through them,

i could tell his little voice inside was chuckling at the irony of the situation.

here was his wife, whom declared with great voice

he was never ever to give her a household appliance for her birthday again,

was now requesting an iron for her 42nd birthday.

with that, he picked up the car keys,

drove me to the store,

stood for nearly an hour going through each iron on display,

discussing the merits and the disadvantages of each

whilst i pointed out the ones that would not do, due to their color.

after much debating,