Workin' shorts

Friday is laundry day at the Goldsmith abode. As I hung Paul's shirts up on his side of the closet, I got a glimpse of them. Paul's work shorts. And in that moment I had a flashback - to my husband's first ever work shorts. At least the first ones he had as a married man - some 31 years ago.

The shorts remind me a little (a very little) of a favorite Mary Chapin Carpenter song, "This Shirt". The song is a ballad about all the memories relating to a shirt. I've had some clothes like that - a few articles I really can't part with - but I don't really wear them. And they aren't as ugly as those shorts...

Paul's official 2013 work shorts

They were tennis shorts (and quite short in keeping with the era, early 1980's) and white - or should I say formerly white. By that time they had a gray pallor. And a black icky splotch of tar or black paint on the butt. Oh I hated those shorts.

And now - the current version - Dockers shorts. He loves to wear those things while he landscapes, sweating and digging in the dirt. Dirt that doesn't wash out. I don't even try to "Spray 'n Wash" them. Hell - the dirt and grease are badges of glory to my husband, born a farm boy.

I put my foot down - he should not wear them to stores in West Des Moines. He sneaks out to Lowes in them without me. I cringe. Don McKim has his garage shoes, Paul's got the shorts. I love him anyway.

Paul's niece Peg was here from Brooklyn visiting her dad Dave who is recovering from a head injury at Mercy here in DSM. I snapped this pic before she and her mom Jean took off this a.m. I always love getting together with those ladies but wish it were under better circumstances this time. Note neither of them had "work shorts" on.