A few weeks ago, my husband's co-worker graciously agreed to house-sit while we had to venture out of town. The polite thing to do, of course, a thank-you note for taking care of the place and the plants and the cats and the finches and, well, everything except the bees. But because he's into medieval/fantasy stuff, I thought he'd be amused if I embossed the thank-you note with sealing wax and insignia. I already had those on hand (welcome to the world of strange hobbies). Which is when I noticed that I didn't have much sealing wax left. The internet being what it is, it's not much trouble to find more. That and a bottle of calligraphy ink arrived today, which pretty well commits me to figuring out how I'm going to refurbish my pen for doing holiday cards. Yay for useless talents.
Later on in this leisurely evening, I ended up digging out the good ol' mending basket and taking needle and thread to jobs that were just too close-quartered for a sewing machine to handle. For most of those repair jobs, straight-line stitches won't do. If you want cloth to stay repaired, you find yourself falling back on stitches that normally show up in embroidery manuals: Buttonhole or blanket stitches to keep raw edges from fraying (or fraying further), and back-stitches to lock seams in place with just a little "give" to prevent the seam from blowing out (again).
But as much of my life as I spend in the 21st century, it didn't feel particularly anachronistic to sort of double-down on "old school" tonight. Half of any skill is knowing what tools are available and which is actually best for the job--or, at least I like to believe so. And I also believe that one side-effect of our infatuation with gadgetry and "Teach Yourself ______ in 24 Hours" books is an appreciation of things that don't come at the speed of light. Maybe even perfectly frivolous stuff like calligraphy. But for all that, never, ever send wax-sealed envelopes through the U.S. Mail. Trust me, I know why.
