Out with the old and in with the new, as they say. Eleven days and counting, how’s your 2016 going for you so far?
With family and friends near, a new four book series -- Brothers In Blue -- almost halfway finished, my 2016 is already shaping up to show some promise.
Compared to 2015 which, for me, didn’t end on the best of notes.
While I recovered from the discomfort of a bout of post-Christmas dental work, (what in the world was I thinking when I scheduled that appointment?) a touch of the flu came by for good measure. A couple of stitches in my mouth, a jaw that would only open so far. Let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
Eventually, I recovered, only to be reminded pain medication and antibiotics don’t mix well with alcohol. The glass or two of Chardonnay I so enjoy now and then wasn’t allowed. On New Year’s Eve, no less. (Is it any wonder I hit the pillow at ten o’clock and briefly acknowledged the arrival of midnight when a neighbor’s fireworks woke me up?)
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
This was. Though it still troubles me to talk about the horrific incident – here goes.
Toward the final days of 2015, I reached in the closet for my favorite pair of jeans. You know the kind I’m talking about. We've all been fortunate to have at least one such pair in our lives. The pull them on anytime and wear them anywhere kind of jeans. So comfortable, you don't even know they're on kind of jeans. The kind you top with a tee-shirt or sweatshirt and running shoes for casual outings. Maybe a nice sweater or blazer with blouse and boots for more formal excursions.
This pair of mine called to me one day at the mall with its unusual beadwork on the pockets that appealed to my child-of-the-sixties genes. True Native American worthy beadwork, mind you. Not the stuck-on glittery sequins and jewels popular on the backsides of jeans these days.
These jeans of mine fit perfectly from that first moment in the dressing room. The length was right too. Not something I, at five eight, normally take for granted.
We were a happy, well, pair, these jeans and I…until that fateful day in late December. Hands on the waist band, I fluffed them out ready to step inside. That’s when I discovered to my horror, the back seam had given in, rather out, and – it so hurts to admit this – I had to throw them away.
In my defense, this was not a rip of the right-along-the-stitch-line-and-easily-fixed variety. Oh no. This damage was far more permanent and UN fixable I’m afraid. This was a total and complete separation of denim at the individual fiber level. After too many washings, dryings and wearings to count, the once proud and sturdy material finally gave way, literally, to the wear and tear of life. Those jeans put up with a lot. They withstood muddy paw prints from exuberant family dogs, sopped up drool, spit up and other liquid excretions from four new born grandchildren. (One of whom is driving age now!) Yikes!
These weren't my only pair of jeans, mind you. They were just very, very special. All told, I’d say I got many long and happy years out of the beaded wonders. While I will miss them terribly, I’ve already found a new brand and style that fits. They hold their shape and structure through the washer and dryer both. They’re comfortable in a we’ll-get-there-eventually kind of way.
It’s hard, very hard, but I’m trying to adjust the best I can. Out with the old and in with the new, as they say.
Again. Happy New Year, Everyone!
My days to blog here are the 11th and 23rd. For more about me and the stories I write, please visit my WEBSITE