A small chill stole across the landscape of my life last week.
Billy went down to Grandma's house to take out her air-
conditioner for the winter, and when he got there she confessed
that she had been crying. Grandma never cries.

Princess Daughter and I went down to visit her a few days ago
and Grandma told me the whole story.

She had gone shopping in the Bluff and had a great time. She'd
been wanting new clothes and came home with a bagful. But,
being a Fleetwood, she needed to shorten the legs of her pants.
She carefully measured and cut three inches off of each leg. Then
she sat down by the window to hand baste the hem before she
sewed it on the machine. It was a dark, dreary day and the pants
were dark, as was the thread. Threading the needle was frustrating,
but finally that was accomplished. One leg was neatly basted. Then
when she lifted the other leg she saw that it was not cut. Oh, a little
grinding of the teeth (joke here, she has no teeth!) and then the
tears, she had double cut one leg of the pants.

Enter Billy. Said confession of tears occurs. The chill arrives in my
heart because that is not like Grandma.

But, the story continues. Grandma set the pants aside for a few days.
The sun came out and she began to feel better. She took those pants
back up and decided to resew on the part that should not have been
cut off. Then she hemmed the pants. She said, "The pants are dark
and I don't think anyone will notice. If anyone goes nosing around
close to the hem of my pantlegs I'll just kick them." So, you are
warned. Keep your nose away from those feet.