San Marcos — Recently I was reminded that most anything can be recycled.

I was getting rid of a tangled mess of wire hangers when a friend happened by. She was on her way to the Goodwill drop box with a load of plastic flowers, little plastic seed pots, a cast iron Dutch oven and three wine bottles.

She didn't exactly scream when she saw what I was doing, but her raised eyebrow was just as effective. "Don't throw those away. You can make angel wings with them."

My reply was instant. "Angel wings?"

"Yeah. Just bend two hangers into wing-like shapes and tie them together. Stretch some pink panty hose over them; spread a little white glue on the edges and sprinkle it with glitter. Waa-la! Angel wings."

Before I could tell her I had no pink pantyhose on hand she came up with a list of things to make with wire hangers, from "Angel wings" to "Yard Art" without even pausing for a breath. Before she finished I was sure she was going all the way to Zachariah's branding iron for lambs. Her list started with a brace to lift a dragging muffler; TV antennas; and a tool to open a locked car door.

I could have told her my muffler was secure, but I was in the middle of a burst of energy, and I didn't want to waste it on someone else's dragging muffler, or a rigged antenna. And I can't start a car without the key.

She said there are a lot of practical things wire hangers can used for, such as "make a tiny loop and it as one of those "hook thingies" for putting yarn fringe on knitted scarves; and she vowed that hangers are great for pulling a string through a hole in the wall, or even as a paper towel holder. They're the very thing for roasting wienies, too.

I asked her if that meant anyone who wants a rusty wire hanger in the kitchen would also want a hole in the wall to pull a string through. She gave me a quick "you never know" glance, and continued with her list, things like beating rugs and scaring away intruders.

She popped her leg with a hanger, and grimaced. "It would at least sting like heck. Might slow him down a bit."

I didn't dare comment on that, but silence didn't work. She hit me with the hanger anyway, and continued; "Bend one of these into a round shape; stretch old panty hose across it, and you have a net to catch tadpoles. Don't you know anyone who likes to fish?"

I couldn't believe she asked that. We live in a senior citizen community where people play Bingo and Scrabble. Occasionally there's a pot luck supper, and it's like pulling teeth to get people out to eat. I daresay suggesting a fishing trip would rouse about as much interest as a bungee jumping spree.

"I don't think they would work for fishhooks," she mused, "but surely, you know some crafters.”

She untwisted a hook and pointed it straight at me; giving me my own idea — you could poke someone's eye out with it.

"I keep one in my car for reaching in the back seat of my car. You never know when you might need something from the backseat when you're driving down the road. And if you cut these in small pieces, you can make hooks for hanging Christmas ornaments. I've seen holiday yard art made with them, too. Just shape the hanger into a star, spray paint it red, white, and blue, and you have a patriotic yard decoration. Straighten out the loop and stick it in the ground."

I almost told her I use one to pick up socks from between the washer and dryer, but everyone knows that already. Besides, she already had a use for every hanger in the box.

As I picked up the last hanger, she snatched it from my hand and squished each ends into a V shape. "See? The perfect shoe hanger."

I threw it in the box and told her she could have the lot of them.

She held both palms up.

"Why would I want them? I use plastic hangers."



Nell Cheslock is a San Marcos resident and a member of the local Act IV Senior Drama Club. Her column appears monthly. E-mail Nell at  ncheslock@gmail.com.