Women can be very impish at times, even mischievious one might say, and love playing a joke as much as men do.
The above photo is of the remnants of a piece of material found at a thrift store – remnants of what is left from a article of clothing they are making.
The article of clothing? A ribbon shirt for me.
Now, I like color, even exuberant color at times, but this is pushing the envelope and I can’t really imagine anyone wearing something this gaudy.
I make every effort to show appreciation for the many things women contribute to a relationship and household, that’s something that’s known, and I think translates to an expectation that I will actually wear what is “gifted” to me and presents something of a personal quandry…..as every instinct says no way in hell.
One things for sure though, there aren’t going to be any selfies, and grandfather has asked that if and when I do to avoid direct sunlight as in such light blindness could ensue for onlookers, that’s payback for putting on a pair of welding goggles one time when he appeared in his Hawaiian shirt. Hawaiian shirt gifted by guess who?
I’m used to being measured for clothes and kind of just zone through it, but as there are several pieces of material they acquired lulled into a false sense of security.
You see what I mean when I say impish and mischievious ? On the surface it may have appeared innocent enough but this additional material was probably part of the plan – something to throw me off.
Now you would think grandfather being a man would have my back, but he’s actually encouraging them with compliments about the fine job they’re doing accompanied by an unmistakeable twinkle in his eye.
I could just say it’s such a magnificent garment I would only wear on special occasions, occasions that will never arise if I play my cards right.
But I’m not sure that’s the best approach as undoubtedly they would declare some mundane event special and turn those doe eyes on me with an expectant look.
In the back of my mind a plan is brewing that could turn the tables, like coming up with a pair of purple pants and one of those pimp hats to round the look out and saying we should run into town.
I’m thinking it would be such an embarrassment they would have to backup – if not then I’d really be stepping in it, kind of like playing Russian Roulette if they didn’t blink first.
Another possibility is to convince the hounds it constitutes a threat and rely on them to shred it, but then I’d have to make a show of admonishing them while slipping them a bone and I wouldn’t want to confuse them or abuse their trust….after all, they do have fangs.
Necessity may well be the mother of invention, if so desperation runs a close second.