I’d all but given up on it. During the final four years posting my weekly farm newsletter on WordPress.com, I heard not one peep from the Invisible Powers That Be at WordPress’s secret world headquarters. Then earlier this week, only a few months into my Washington blog, they Freshly Pressed me.
Those of you fellow WordPress users who’ve subsequently begun following along with my blog (hello and thank you) already know what this means. I’m going to take a minute to explain it to the others, however, so if you’d like to go get a snack or something to drink, now would be a good time.
From what I’ve been able to figure out, there are a large group of gnomes — or maybe mole people — whose job it is to pore over the 40+ million blogs posted on WordPress.com each month, and on a daily basis choose a few of them to highlight on their Freshly Pressed page. That one of my blog posts (specifically T.P. or Not T.P.) was chosen against those odds impressed John; I saw it as proof that the gnomes simply pull up random posts, shut their eyes and point.
[Note to WordPress: In case you’re listening, please be assured when I refer to you as “gnomes” and “mole people,” I mean it in only the most flattering sense.]
Whatever method they use, there’s no denying I’m tickled to death about it. It’s a funny coincidence, too, how I’d never been Freshly Pressed while at the farm and then it happened here so soon after we arrived. See, the same holds true for the other kind of pressing, as well.
Because farm clothes needn’t be wrinkle-free, this ironing board sat neglected, tucked away in a far corner of the farmhouse for 14 long years. Only when the movers discovered it and asked if I’d like them to load it on the truck with our other stuff did I remember even owning the thing. I almost told them to leave it behind but in the last split second, I had them take it. A fortuitous decision, it turns out, as John has since bought me a couple hand wash/hang dry cotton shirts that require ironing.
When the need came to press these shirts for the first time, I creaked open my pink relic of a board and grabbed the iron — which of course had also been ignored all these years — and was more than a little concerned about its condition.
How it crusted up like that by just sitting in a cabinet, I had no clue. I also had no choice, so I plugged it in, heated it up, gingerly touched the tip to one of my brand new shirts and after confirming it hadn’t started smoldering, began gliding the iron forward. While the corroded metal did make a rather disturbing scrrritch scrritch sound as I rubbed it over the fabric, it didn’t rip my clothing to shreds and in fact smoothed out the wrinkles like a pro. Another good choice for packing aboard the moving van.
Sadly, the same isn’t true for all our relocation selections. There have been countless items we opted to leave behind that we now yearn for, while at the same time we brought along others that are, shall we say, head-scratch worthy. Like our mixer with only one attachment.
To be fair, we’re sure it had two metal mixing blades when we were still in Texas. The second one was probably lost in the mayhem of boxing and unboxing. Yet I know for a fact the same can’t be said about the handle for a digging tool I recently ran across — I remember it looking exactly like this when we were still at the farm.
And how about paint-hardened bristles from a handleless paintbrush? There must be a million uses for one of these, right?
Thank goodness we moved it up here! It’s now out in the garage with other equally essential tools and equipment, like this tiny scrubbing brush shaped like half a russet potato.
And, um. This.
These things (and so, so many others) go a long way to confirm the decision to bring the old iron and board up here with us. They’ve come in handier than I’d imagined, and reminded me how nice it is to be freshly pressed.
It’s nicer still, though, to be Freshly Pressed. It made my week, for which I extend a hearty thanks to the WordPress gnomes. They are, hands down, the kindest bunch of mole people ever.