An epic tale

Once, in a time not too far off and a distant land called Tex-as, there lived a hand. Not a particularly pretty hand, but a very artistic hand that loved to sew. The hand was strong, muscular and straight, with wide fingers designed for survival.







On this hand, there was a finger that was the strongest finger for sewing. Unfortunately, on the side of that finger was a scar, procured from a long ago battle with a broken jar and a grocery store manager who didn't give very thorough instructions on how to retain the cap from broken jars so the store could be reimbursed. Several stitches were required and from thence to now, the hand knew that it could never commit a crime because of the very peculiarity of the finger print. (The hand also realized it was hard to take this photo without sending an unintended message).



One day, the hand went in search of a thimble. The hand had a vast fortune that it was willing to spend in pursuit of the perfect fit. Thimbles were brought in from distant lands, like Flo-ri-da and Kan-sas and Eng-land. Old thimbles, new thimbles, leather thimbles, steel thimbles, silver thimbles; all were caused to be assembled into one place so that the finger on the hand could test them for the perfect fit.



But, the finger could find no thimble which gave it pleasure. In fact, most gave only pain and the heartbreak of money wasted on shipping. The hand considered cutting off part of the finger to make it fit one of the beautiful thimbles, much like the older sister did her toe to make the glass slipper fit in the original tale of Cinderella (the brothers Grimm were grim indeed.) But, alas, that was considered a foolish thought in all the realm.

And, then, when the finger had given up all hope of finding a thimble and was considering having a thimble made...at great cost to the kingdom of the hand, The hand tried one last world wide search.



And, there it was. Not available from any sewing outlet or antique dealer or any other source that the hand would have previously considered. No, this thimble was in the warehouse of a folk music supplier that catered to men who play the washboard for Zydeco bands; so not a traditional resource for sewing supplies. It was promptly sent for as a priority from the land of Saint Louis in Miss-oo-rah.

Finally, it arrived. The hand, along with it's partner, Righty, ripped into the offending cardboard and bubblewrap packaging and heaved out the bundle and tore through the tape, all in pursuit of the thimble; so small for the large box it was shipped in. And, then beautiful music began to play as the thimble found its way to the tip of the finger and covered the scar and nuzzled comfortably against the knuckle. Ahhhh, comfort and joy.

While still new, the thimble was shown great love and affection and much purring was done about it's beauty. The finger was loath to take it off, except it made the finger strike two or three laptop keys simultaneously with little control. It was given a beautiful Earnest Steiner, enameled green, walnut shaped sewing kit to rest in when not being used by the finger. An appropriate resting place for an item so long pursued.

And, all was well with the world. Peace reigned.

And, how come I had so much hand sewing to do before I got a thimble that fits and now, I've got nothing to work on?

Everybody have a great Wednesday. I know I promised I wouldn't talk about thimbles anymore this year, but hey, I'm so proud I could POP! I have to surrender it at some point so Rob can wrap it and put it under the tree for me.

Hey, anybody wanna buy a thimble? I've prolly got one that would fit you.

Lane