The Plot Needs Thickener

So, how's this for a plot.
This guy wakes up, taps the alarm clock before it rings off the third snooze. No word of the day text on his phone yet. He pulls his pants on, fumbles for his glasses, and shuffles into the kitchen. His dog can hardly sit still for the leash to be snapped on. The man grabs a roll of doggie bags and a dim flashlight, and heads outside. Overcast. No stars this morning. A sprinkler drones against a lamppost down the street.

Ok. That's all I could come up with this morning. It's pretty much every weekday morning for me. Except for seeing that UFO. That's not every weekday.

Let's All Have A Pajama Party! With Pie!

Last weekend, I stepped out of my comfort zone. I was dared to do it. So, the kids could have pie.

I went out to the Winn Dixie one night to get the kids pie, in my jammie-pants. KC and my wife said people do this ALL the time. It isn't like going to a snazzy restaurant in just your underwear, and accidentally running into Christina Aguilera on break from shooting a music video. Er, Christina would probably be wearing just her underwear, too, in that case.

Anyway, I went to the store about 30 minutes before closing wearing a hoodie and my Guinness pajama pants. I walked all over the store looking for a pecan pie, but ended up with just the pumpkin. And, y'know what I saw? There was a guy, about 20 years old, wearing his pajama pants. They were plaid. Not my style, but hey! I was hip! That never happens! I was wearing pajama pants in public! I even added a little strut to my parading around the Winn Dixie.

The next morning, it was about 50 deg. F (10 deg C). We were headed to the beach to clam (another story), but stopped off at the Dunkin Donuts. It was much too cold to be wearing anything as light and comfy as jammie pants. Oh, sure, there was the young woman wearing capris and a halter top. And the two little girls wearing matching tutus. One was bare foot.

Three young ladies (Two barefoot! In a restaraunt! --well, a donut shop) strolled in wearing pajama pants! They must have been around 20 yrs old, looking young, and much too hip for me to be talking to.

*** Here's a tip for all those married men out there. Do NOT point out to your wife how attractive the pretty, young lady's Tinker Bell jammie pants are. How they are light green, with Tinker Bells in various poses, and "Tinker Bell" written on them in fuschia with hearts. And, how well worn they look. Your wife will tell you she knows what you're REALLY looking at, and finish your damn coffee. ***

Anyhoo--

I got to thinking. (WAIT! Stick with me! I wasn't thinking that hard!) What if my wearing pajama pants in public is NOT hip (or cool, or sick, or damaged, or whatever the kids are saying), but just an old fart dressing too young? A cisvestite (That's a word, right? I saw it in a book.).

So, I won't be doing the pajama pants in public again. Unless someone out there needs a pie some night. That's right. Mild-mannered Tinkguy is really Pieman! Delivering pies to all good citizens, wearing his pajamas! Who wants pie?

Knitting Outside

I sit under a tree each afternoon and knit, waiting for my wife, Ellen, to pick me up from work.

On Tuesday, I found a little green spider on my left forearm. I thought about Arachne, the Greek weaving goddess, and then about the four spider sisters in Journey to the West, evil, scary tricksters--

By the time my brain was done musing, the little spider had moved to my right thigh.

Flick!

Wednesday, I sat under the tree, knitting my sock. About five minutes into it, I realized I had a green spider on the back of my right hand. I started thinking, perhaps the spider was watching my continental technique, and how I purl pretty darn quickly-- not a world contender, by any means-- but maybe it was interested, much like when one knits in public, strangers walk up to watch. Maybe it wanted to give ME some pointers--

Flick!

Thursday, I went to sit at my usual spot under the tree, and walked through a mass of spider web. Sticky lacework.

I'm sorry. Were you expecting a point to this?