Doilies are a thing of the past. You know, those white, hand-made, crocheted or knitted pieces that were about the size of a woman’s handkerchief, looked like a spider web and were under every lamp or vase in your grandmother’s house. Sometimes they were on the arms of sofas and chairs, or even on the backs of them where your head would be.
I never liked doilies when I was a kid — not that I like them much now either, but I at least appreciate the time and effort it took to make them. The doilies got messed up every time you sat down, then you had to straighten them, and then try not to mess them up while you sat there “like a good little boy”. What a pain!
The ice that formed in the holes of a door mat reminded me of a doily, and every time I see a doily, I’m reminded of the fun I used to have at Grandma’s house.
Thought for the Day: The greatest love is a mother’s, then a dog’s, then a sweetheart’s. Polish Proverb