Grandma's Pillows

Tonight I was asked to take a seam ripper to some pillows we have. They are really, really dirty. I don't dispute for a second that they need to be washed. They've had drooly little faces fall asleep on them, they've been smeared with sticky hands. Sometimes I catch our dog Gibson sleeping on the couch, his head resting cheekily on the pillow.

The idea of taking a seam ripper to these pillows scares me. I sucked, or should I say suck at sewing. I don't do it. Sewing machines are scary. I don't know how to thread a bobbin, nor do I care to know how. In grade 8 we had to take sewing in Life Skills. What a stupid name for a course. Who sews these days? OK, lots of people do. Its a really admirable talent. It's a talent I don't possess. My shorts would have been wearable, if I was a lopsided 200 lb man. See? Told you I suck at sewing. It's just something that I don't have patience for.

My husband thinks I should sew. His mom sews well. So does my mom. My mom sewed all my clothes. She sewed my doll clothes, and my barbie clothes. She sewed curtains and bed spreads for my doll house. I can hardly manage to sew on a button. I'd take it to Stitch-It if it wasn't so pathetic. If I lived in the days of Laura Ingalls we'd be really screwed. Or, we'd have to be rich so I could have a fancy seamstress from the East sew my clothes for me.

I wonder what would happen if I just put the pillows in the wash? Would the fluff get all clumped up and weird? Knowing my luck I'd destroy the pillows. I'm kind of good at wrecking stuff when being lazy.

I think I'll just take the easy way out and ask mom if she's interested in ripping open some pillows - which were Grandma's by the way. You can see one of them in the background of my previous post.