Friday, October 8, 2010

high ho silver

"Your scissors are toast," the woman stated emphatically. My scissors, my dear Henckel shears, sewing companion for many a year......... toast? Every sewer knows that dropping your "good" scissors is punishable in a court of law. Even cutting paper with them is a federal offense for goodness sakes and they should never, ever be handled by minors.
My scissors have been stored (hidden) and treasured (worn to the bone) although they were probably due for a sharpening when they had the fatal fall.
I'm not sure how long I would have remained in denial if they had not also been my barber shears. My husband began to resemble an orchestra conductor. He couldn't actually flip his hair back, but he had a wild and rakish appearance first thing in the morning. Compassion overcame procrastination. Refusing to accept the truth, I clutched my scissor halves and headed for House of Knives. Ahhhhh, the lifetime Henckel warranty. I had forgotten about that. Repair was a possibility although a trip in the mail would be necessary. They could also be replaced and upgraded to a higher quality steel. The price, paltry, less than postage. The plus, instant gratification and instant barber shears. Partings can give a pang, but I felt I was resting an old workhorse and harnessing up a sharp young steed. High ho silver away.

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