tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post561550324244447774..comments2024-03-22T18:13:10.026-06:00Comments on On the Alberta/Montana Border: Iron LadyDiane Stringam Tolleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629946536985545457noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-83407100541285145892018-07-09T05:58:21.927-06:002018-07-09T05:58:21.927-06:00Ironing has become a lost art and starch is a thin...Ironing has become a lost art and starch is a thing of the past. The world has become polyester or wrinkled.Starting Over, Accepting Changes - Maybehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06032033918798053005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-38531876555951397752018-07-09T04:19:25.697-06:002018-07-09T04:19:25.697-06:00I haven't ironed anything in years, most of my...I haven't ironed anything in years, most of my stuff gets folded straight off the washing line and put away. Back when I did iron, I always got to the bottom of the ironing basket and really don't understand how people can leave things in there, unironed, for years at a time. one of my best friends, years ago, finally got to the bottom of her basket and found a baby dress that she thought had been lost forever. The child was 9 when the size 1 dress came to light.Riverhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14794655013673748992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-67432755026245235582018-07-08T17:26:10.839-06:002018-07-08T17:26:10.839-06:00Mom did the sprinkle and roll thingie as well..hoo...Mom did the sprinkle and roll thingie as well..hooray for steam irons. Now...I iron tablecloths and one of my hubs shirts that he can't seem to get just right (according to him). I think he just likes to see me suffer.only slightly confusedhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08165115156889904978noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-90351271577520266692018-07-08T13:19:02.973-06:002018-07-08T13:19:02.973-06:00My mother was not fond of ironing (and dare I say ...My mother was not fond of ironing (and dare I say it, not good at it). I am not fond of it either. I do it though. I like the feel of ironed pillowcases for example. I never, ever iron sheets though. And was awed to learn that my partner's mother like yours, ironed everything. Including underwear.Elephant's Childhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06650565833097914052noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-32607330600259402512018-07-08T12:52:56.369-06:002018-07-08T12:52:56.369-06:00Yet again, from your descriptions of all your mom ...Yet again, from your descriptions of all your mom did, I am struck with amazement at how much our ancestors accomplished. And in tandem, struck with acute embarrassment how little I do in comparison. I used to iron. Not anymore. Wash, dry, hang. That's it. And I haven't worn pearls since about 1995. And that was to a very fancy "do" . . . your mom puts me to shame!jenny_ohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15475480579733466963noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-51732781196441875272018-07-08T11:18:52.485-06:002018-07-08T11:18:52.485-06:00Memories of ironing - which I was never good at. ...Memories of ironing - which I was never good at. My Mom at the ironing board. After she died, it was (believe it or not) my father, who had learned how to iron in his WWII military service and spared me some of the work (I still did most all of the other "womenly" work, though - which was fair, as he worked to support the two of us.) But even my Mom, as poor as we were, paid a local laundry to iron sheets and my Dad's shirts. I remember going there to get the finished items, wrapped in brown paper with a string around them. Alanahttp://ramblinwitham.blogspot.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-65688452733889941252018-07-08T10:16:32.857-06:002018-07-08T10:16:32.857-06:00What a fabulous post -- and memory of your mother....What a fabulous post -- and memory of your mother. It reminds me of my ironing experiences in the convent - when I assisted Sr. Pauline in ironing the altar clothes -- with starch. Especially excruciating on Good Friday when she insisted EVERY single clothe and vestment needed to be freshly pressed before Easter. I have no ironing basket -- and perhaps now I realize why. Janet Cobbhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05163979332125772105noreply@blogger.com