Sticking My Foot In My Mouth

“What’s that sock doing on the dresser?”

I suspected I knew the reason; I was almost afraid to ask; but I posed the question to Gerry first thing this morning anyway.

“I need to do your father’s trick,” he replied.

This sock that somehow landed atop my dresser was no ordinary sock. It was one of a pair he purchased for his hiking adventures. It was a wool sock; a thick sock; and yes, an expensive sock.


A few days ago I had occasion to open up a trunk that had belonged to my parents and it prompted a meandering afternoon down memory lane. During that time I told hubby about my dad’s habit of darning his own socks. He kept an old cardboard box that once contained chocolates in the middle drawer of his dresser. The chocolates were long since consumed and that worn box ended up containing darning needles, scissors, slips of various coloured yarns, and a burnt out incandescent light bulb. I can picture Dad sitting on the edge of his bed, a darning needle in his hand, his attention on repairing the hole in a sock that he had inserted the light into.

“Do you know how to do it?” I asked Gerry.

He smiled an impish grin: “I guess I will find out.”

Now, I could have kept my mouth shut; perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut. Instead somehow, after a conversation that had me offering helpful tips and suggestions, the entire thing came back to where I knew it would when I first saw the sock on the dresser: me volunteering to attempt to darn the sock.

I wonder if YouTube has any video lessons about darning? I wonder if I can even find a burnt out–or not–incandescent light bulb anywhere?

It’s a new week and I have a new challenge. Woo hoo.



I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. I’ve enjoyed your trip down memory lane. My father learned to darn his own socks, inside out.

    1. Thank’s Letty. I wonder if the ability to darn socks was something our dads learned at home or when they were in the service? Seems like it would have been a required skill for them.

  2. Ha…my dad darned his own socks too…more likely out of necessity bring one of 12 children. Who would have had time to do everyone’s socks. He also taught me to knit!

    1. My dad was the only boy out of seven children! He knitted too–in fact I still have a teddy bear that was his that he made pants and a knitted sweater for. Amazing what they learned did back then out of necessity, isn’t it?

  3. My husband’s grammy used to call it, “Damning and Darning!” LOL

    1. I like that Paige. Suspect I might be doing some of that when I get to it as well. 🙂

  4. Hahaha!! I remember watching my mother darn socks. I was amazed at how wonderfully strong and evenly weaved those patches were. She taught me how to, but it wasn’t a skill I cared to remember. Lol.

    1. Are you sure you don’t remember, Carmen? Maybe it’s like riding a bike and you just need to try it again. 🙂 I have a perfect sock you could practice on!

  5. Thank you, Linda, for the memory of darning. My mother and grandmothers darned socks, made dresses from flour sacks, all that old conserving way. My husband knitted me a ‘nose warmer’ when we were young! I enjoyed the interchange between you and your husband.

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