Neither of us are slaves to fashion, but we do know how to clean ourselves up for occasions when we must present ourselves in public; well, at least both of us have mostly stopped going to town looking like a bag lady and her homeless companion. At any rate, we know how to dress fairly appropriately for whatever occasion we might be attending so that we don’t embarrass the other person. Frequently he will ask me “Is it OK if I wear my bib overalls? ” And I usually say yes, even though he has lost so much weight that they hang on him like an oversized clown outfit. This does not bother me. His clothes are clean and he does not smell, which we have noticed is not always the case when we are out and about. We have also noted that “appropriate” in the Ozarks can mean bib overalls at a funeral or the grandfather of the bride showing up to the wedding wearing Dickie work pants and a shirt, and a seed cap.
And we have discovered the secret of dressing appropriately when the occasion is taking a walk on a rather cold day. The LOML seldom lets anything deter him from his daily walk – much like the beleaguered letter carrier. I admire him very much for soldiering on. I am little less committed and use the treadmill.
The local state police frequently drive the highway that parallels where he walks and I do worry about him getting stopped. I mean, I don’t think he looks like a terrorist or somebody up to no good but there is a convenience store-gas station-McDonald’s on one of the routes where he walks.
Of course, one’s idea of “cold” is somewhat relative. I laugh when we go back to Los Angeles and they complain about it being “cold” and it feels barely cold enough to us for a long-sleeved shirt. My friend Judy, who moved here from Michigan, laughs when she hears us complain about the cold. “This isn’t cold!” she says. I know another woman who moved here from Alaska. She makes funny noises through her nose and just goes “P-f-f-f-f-f-b-b-t-t-t-t” when we whine.