Puttin' On The Dog

We weren't able to write a regular blog post for today owing to extenuating circumstances. Specifically, we had a wedding to attend (a very nice neighbor boy who we watched grow up) and the occasion demanded greater attention to grooming and fashion than is usually required for our grubby, hermit-like existence.

Seriously, one of the real delights of being self-employed and working from home is the extreme latitude one can apply to how many days of the week "casual Friday" can be observed. Not to mention how easily "casual" can then be defined down to "disheveled" without social repercussions.

But more was called for on this special day, which meant spending a lot more time getting ready than would be the case if we adhered to traditional standards of grooming and hygiene.  For instance, we thought it best to trim our beard to look a bit less homeless and, for good measure, to shave off the weird "neck beard" which had already passed our adam's apple and had eyes on reaching our sternum. Hair trimmers were also applied to our sideburns in order to reveal the existence of ears on our noggin.

We then had a nice hot shower - a ritual which we perform borrowing a tradition from the Jewish rite of Shiva, in which all of the bathroom mirrors are covered. Not that we're ashamed of our body, exactly - we're just tired of paying to replace cracked mirrors.

Then it was time to dress, which presented its own unique challenges considering we don't own a lot of what the world considers to be "grown-up" clothes. Miraculously, we had a pair of black jeans which fit in a too tight, muffin-top producing way. If the brass button holding things together burst, we figured we could pass it off as a champagne cork exploding.

We had a nice long sleeved dress shirt which we had worn for an event some months ago and rehung without washing as being "probably okay." A sniff of the shirt's armpits was largely inoffensive, so there was another piece of the ensemble. The important bit was a proper looking sport coat, which we had purchased so recently that it actually fit.

This is something of a rarity, as we are so rarely called upon to wear that kind of thing that our average sport coat only sees the light of day at one or two funerals or rare business events before being squirreled away in the closet to gather dust and fall out of style, during which time we eat nuts and berries to store fat for the winter. And the other seasons.

In the end, we affected a natty enough look that the always stunning Mrs. J wasn't ashamed to be seen on our arm, and no one at the wedding laughed out loud - which is really all we can ask.

So our sartorial adventure had a satisfactory conclusion, but left us no time to delve deeply into current news events today. But fear not, our next fashion report will again be limited to which liar's pants are on fire now.