Since it is consignment sale time in Tennessee, the family has had to suffer the horrors that come from a mom who is rabidly trying to hang and iron and sort and prepare clothing all while they are trying to enjoy a semi-relaxing Labor Day weekend. So when the holiday was over, everyone went their separate ways and I was left to deal with the straightening of the house, the preparing for our crazy evening and the tagging of these clothes. For years, and I really mean years like, um, 10 maybe, I have been using safety pins to attach the clothing to the hangers and the tag to the clothing. This process is absolutely maddening and painful. This may come as a shock to you, but there are pain receptors in your fingertips and when a safety pin goes through that fingertip it hurts. Bad. My dear friend, Margaret, felt our pain...or maybe she got sick of hearing me complain about my sore fingers...anyhoo, she bought me a tagging gun. God bless that girl. I was so excited to use it. So today, my father was looking for some way to help me out. We decided to fire up the tagging gun. I did not understand the directions, so dad figured it out. After taking an awl and a hammer and punching holes through the cards, we got serious. So for the next hour, he and I tagged clothes. I never in my mind thought that I would ever be tagging clothes for a sale with my father. And it was great. We laughed and joked and spent quality time with each other. And we got a lot of work done. What a lovely afternoon. Thanks, MB, for providing the gun and the subject for a fun afternoon. I think I know what I might get Dad for Christmas....
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Yeay, No More Blood Letting!
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