Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I am so upset with myself.

Have you seen the latest fashion trend among America’s youth? Knee-high crew socks with sandals.

Just like I used to wear in the 1970s, in my boomer youth. I knew I should’ve kept them. Shouldn’t have taken them to a charity for recycling and repurposing. But no, I went with the low cut ‘no-sock’ look and tossed my geeky crew socks.

I am worried about this new fashion trend. What will be next? Disco, and big shoulder pads on women again? They’re already doing big pants legs like we did. We called them elephant legs.

As my generation would put it, ye gads.

Related to Me

Female friends took another female friend clothes shopping. 103 years old, the third friend had declared, “I’m tired of wearing bras. I want a garment to stop me from jiggling but I’m swearing off bras.”

My wife — who never wears a bra at home — exclaimed, “103 and she’s swearing off bras now? Boy, she has a lot more tolerance than me.”

Tiw’s Day’s Theme Music

Tiw’s Day is here at last, and the God couldn’t be happier about it. Breaking out in tears, the one-handed God thanked everyone with deep sincerity, not leaving anyone unmentioned, and then resumed his duties.

For those keeping score at home, this is August 8, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the train’s horn is loud and persistent against the quiet day. The sun’s influence and fronts have combined to breach 73 F right now, and they vow to keep going into the low nineties. Good to have goals, even for the sun and weather system.

(Meanwhile, the sun, upon reading this, asked himself in a bewildered murmur, “What’s he talking about? I don’t have goals. Do I have goals?” It gave him something to ponder while sipping his coffee.)

I have Van Halen performing “Best of Both Worlds” in the morning mental music stream (trademark TBD). Came upon that song as I noodled through my clothing needs for the day. Be walking in the morning, when it’s cooler. Than I’ll be in the coffee shop, where they like to pump up the A/C because it’s hot behind the counter, then walking again, and it’ll be in the eighties by then, before going to the movie theater, where it’s icy cold as deep space. We’re seeing Barbie today. I’m looking forward to watching Kate McKinnon as Weird Barbie. Always enjoyed her on “SNL”, especially when she was talking about her alien abduction experiences.

Anyway, I was thinking that I’d be wearing shorts, of course. It’s summer in Ashlandia. I wear shorts everywhere, unless it’s declared to be something semi-formal or above or the wife says something like, “You’re not wearing shorts.” “Of course I am,” I always reply before getting up to change. The shirt was the issue here. How heavy should the shirt be to meet my various needs? I’d be inside and out, and would thus need something to — ready? — cope with the best of both worlds. Yeah. That’s how The Neurons do it.

Be calm, stay positive, keep that strength up, and keep moving forward. It’s getting to be a long list, yeah, the things you must do to remain sane and healthy, hopeful, and optimistic, the things you must do to put in the work. I’ve have coffee but I’m having more, okay? Here’s the tune. Let’s go with it. Cheers

Broken-down Cars Dream

Let’s begin in the middle. As the dream seemed to do.

My wife and I were out somewhere. Broken down. Limited view of the setting, like, not important, but seemed like thin scrub brush, black asphalt road, and dry. Vehicle was a black sports car. Could have been a Jaguar XK-E or a Mazda RX-7. Its identity fluttered and shifted, always black, a sleek sports car, but different makes each time I looked at it.

Another man, in a faded yellow short sleeve short and torn blue jeans, was there, trying to go somewhere else. Seemed homeless, with little going for him.

Also present was a young woman, also with a broken-down vehicle, a sixties era white Volkswagen Beetle.

We needed parts and tools to fix the cars. I could get mine running. Plans were formed and tried. We couldn’t get all four people into my car. Should someone be left behind? Maybe her Beetle could fit into my car.

The VW’s body was removed. They tried fitting it in. Sort of got it in there but the consensus rose, that’s not going to work. We had to get it back out but it was wedged in tight. I told them, “Stand back. I got this.” I reached into the car, picked it up, and pulled it out using leverage. “Impressive,” everyone said. The woman said, “You’re really strong.” My wife said, “He’s always been weirdly strong.”

I decided, “This is what we’ll do. Leave the VW here. Get in my car. Go to the nearest town. Get the tools and parts needed, fix my car, then I’ll return and fix the other.” I finished, telling the woman, “You’ll go back with me to your car.” Everyone accepted the plan. I got into my car’s driver seat. Wife got into the passenger side. The car had a hatch. The other two got in there. We left the hatch open and drive the twenty something miles to town.

First, we met a group of other people. They needed help, rides, money, etc., to get elsewhere. For some reason, they thought my wife and I were there to help them. That surprised us, but we agreed we would.

Next, we decided we needed clothes, shirts and pants, and entered a crowded discount store. I found an orange pullover with green trim. After putting it on, my wife came up in a new shirt. “I went with a sports team on my shirt,” she said. “Looks like you went with something else.”

The others needing help were white haired, elderly, thin or thick, men and women. They followed me around. After raising the hood and fiddling, I announced that I’d fixed my car. Now the woman and I would go get her Volkswagen. The woman said that she would sell it after it was fixed and buy a larger vehicle. She and I got into my car and zipped away. Seconds later in dream time, I was back in town when she drove her VW in.

Dream end.

Sunday’s Wandering Thought

He needed to iron a shirt. Short sleeve. Cotton. Button up.

Been so long since he’d ironed a shirt. Used to do it almost every day in the military and quite often when he was in marketing. New materials and different work activities and standards had lessened requirements to iron.

He was still using their thirty-year-old iron. Why not? It works. He figured smart irons have finally arrived, though what a smart iron would do, he doesn’t know. Probably robot irons have arrived, too, just give it the shirt and it’ll know what to do. But he had to manually do it, setting up the little board and then plying seams, collar, yoke, sleeves, and most treacherous of all for him, the placket with steam and heat to make it all look unwrinkled.

After all that, he didn’t wear the shirt. Oh, well. It’d be ready for next time.

Sunday’s Wandering Thought

He disliked people’s tendency to pigeonhole matters. He found himself doing it and constantly resisted. Pigeonholing simplified and generalized.

He didn’t know how he started on that path when he was young but it began infuriating him with clothing. ‘Church’ clothes. ‘School’ clothes, play outfits. WTF? A lot of it was marketing and advertising.

A friend once asked, “Why are you wearing a golf shirt?”

He shook his head. “It’s just a shirt to me.”

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

He admired his blue pullover. It was a cheap thing, a rag sweater bought for about $15 over twenty years ago. He still liked it although no elastic properties remained in it. Other than that failure, the sweater had no holes, no picks from an animal’s claws — which was truly amazing — and had not frayed anywhere. He’d bought it a store which no longer existed.

The store name, Mervyn’s, came to him after a moment. He remembered their television commercials. It seemed like they’d gone out of business so suddenly and was gone, like a brief rain shower on a hot summer day.

Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

He accompanied his wife when she went clothes shopping. As he followed her, he began to consider what he’d wear and how he would dress as a woman. It felt like the swath of options and challenges for them are much greater than they are for men. Of course, many demands on women and how they dress are thrust on them by society and shaped by their bodies and coloring. After five minutes, he decided that it was just as well that he was male and didn’t need to think about all those things, starting with bras.

Saturday’s Wandering Thought

He has the bug. It overtook him without warning and is as insistent and annoying as a mosquito visiting his ear canal. Acknowledging what must be done, he goes into his closet and begins pulling out clothes and trying them on. Yes, they’re his clothes, and not his wife’s – not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just a point of order.

First to be tried on is the flight suit that he last wore over thirty years ago. Does not fit, he finds. Hell, it can’t ever be tugged over his shoulders without his spouse’s help. It’s surprising how much it’s shrunk since he last put it on. He keeps his Air Force service dress uniform out of nostalgia, even though it also shrank.

Business suits are next. He formerly wore a lot of them during his time in marketing but hasn’t put one on for almost twenty years. They have also shrunk. He makes a mental note to google why some closets make clothes shrink. Maybe it’s the way he’s storing them or something. Jeans, pants, and shirts are pulled out, tested, and put into neat piles. In an hour, he’s collected three towers of clothes which have shrunk. He’ll donate them to charities.

The shrinking worries him, though. Maybe he should move his other clothes somewhere else before they shrink.

Yes, maybe, he decides.

Maybe.

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

He picked through the shirts hanging in his closet, looking for one which suited the weather and his plans, and finally selected one. Didn’t look great on him, and not real happy about the pattern, either. He didn’t even understand why he bought it. Oh, well.

He went into the other room. His wife walked by and touched his shoulder. “That shirt always looks so good on you.”

Ah. Puzzle solved.

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