Shoes, shirt, silver

I bought a pair of deck shoes, liked them, and bought another pair thinking I'd wear one for kicking around in and the other for more respectable outings. They sit next to one another under the sideboard by the front door, ready to fulfill their individual daily destinies. I don't always honor their designated missions, however, and over time they've gotten harder to tell apart. Seems I will soon have two pair of kick-around deck shoes. It doesn't work in reverse.

I have a T shirt that fits so well that I never wear it. I'm saving it. On the rare occasions that rise to its coutourial glory, I forget that I even own it, let alone can wear it. I noticed it on the rack in the closet yesterday and put it on. It still fits... well, to a T. I wore it to Home Depot. (My life is a breathless social whirl.) When I was walking back to my car, a guy drove by in a pickup and yelled out the window, I kid you not, "I want that T shirt!"

Bobby is back from North Carolina, or South Carolina, whichever is the mecca whence decorators go to buy furniture, and keep an eye on each other. After dinner, spaghetti, at his house, we went to a bar where a girl was selling silver jewelry at a table. He treated himself to a ring and a bracelet. Admiring his new cache, arm extended, fingers spread, he said "Clients expect me to look good."