“Whatcha doin, hon?” Vicki asked.
“I’m darning a sock,” Wendy replied.
Vicki nodded. “Okay … why?” (More)
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
Welcome back to Tuesday’s Tale, a weekly feature where we collaborate to write a story. Previous Tuesday’s Tales include Superhero Church and The Papal Scrolls. We follow the basic rules of the “Yes, And” improvisational game – accept everything written so far as part of the story, and add your own paragraph (or so) where the last addition left off – except you needn’t begin your addition with “Yes, and.” I’ll start the story….
“Because it has a hole in it,” Wendy said, “and when you mend a hole worn in fabric, it’s called darning. I don’t know why.”
Vicki smiled. “I do. Darner is the Middle French verb ‘to mend.’ It came over to English with a lot of other French words, after the Norman Conquest.”
Wendy looked up from her work. “I bet you learned that when you went to Paris. That’s middle France, right?”
“Kind of,” Vicki said. “Paris isn’t exactly in the middle of France, but it’s the center of French culture. Anyway, Middle French isn’t about a place. It’s about a period of the French language,” she paused to thumb her phone, “from roughly 1340 to 1611.” She thumbed her phone again. “Also, are you using a darning egg or a darning mushroom or a darning gourd? It says you can also use a light bulb, but I think they mean the old ones, not our curlicue ones.”
Wendy chuckled. “Does your phone say I can use a tennis ball instead?”
Vicki scrolled and shook her head. “Umm, nope.”
“Then I’m still smarter than your phone,” Wendy replied.
“But no one darns socks anymore,” Vicki replied. “Darning never lasts and socks are cheap enough to buy new ones now.”
Wendy shrugged. “I’m on a simplicity kick.”
“Since when?” Vicki asked.
Wendy smiled. “Since my phone battery died.”
“So this simplicity kick won’t last long?” Vicki asked. “Coz you remember what happened when you said I should try making my own mayonnaise, right?”
Wendy’s stomach rolled. “Umm, yes. I do remember.”