Frankenpants - March 30, 2019
My hubs Laur is a collector of sorts. Not the things you might be thinking of – racing cars, artwork, sculptures… Nah, he collects second-hand coats, backpacks, and hiking pants.
Why coats, you may ask, since we winter in Arizona? Why indeed is a question I ask Laur on a regular basis – especially when I’m in one of my manic declutter modes. Two years ago in St. Catharines we counted up no less than eight warm but weary looking coats. Laur was not ready to part with any of them - not just quite yet – so we – OK, I – moved four to our storage locker. My theory is that these coats are his security blankets – he is still mildly traumatized by the winters spent in White River, Northern Ontario as a child. So I need to take this slow…
Backpacks? “Jannie, this one is for when we fly to the States and back. This one is for longer hikes. This is for short hikes. This pack is good for long bike rides. This one for shorter. And this one…” We have an entire shelf in our laundry room here in AZ dedicated to this motley crew.
And hiking pants. You have to know that these are all second hand or donated. And that Laur has been weaned down to four pairs. When you live in a trailer and share a closet, numbers matter.
Of the four pairs, though, Laur only wears one of them. Seriously, I need to do a wash after we get back from every hike (AFTER our showers or else the last one in gets a cold blast). Heaven knows we might hike twice in two days and then what would he do?!
“Laur, you have three other pairs of hiking pants…” “But I don’t like them as much. This one has belt loops and a belt so they stay up better.”
Now I have to admit, I’d rather his pants stay up when we are hiking, than not. Still, “Laur, you could go to the White Elephant and get another pair for three dollars.” “But Jannie, I like THESE pants.” Sigh!
These pants were well used when he got them. A few months ago, Bob, Laur, and I were hiking. Laur generally leads and Bob stays up front because the two of them like to yack. Me, I’m at the tail end, enjoying my podcasts. Bob says to Laur, “I’m seeing something that no one should have to see…”
“Heh?” says Laur. Bob points, Laur rubs the back of his pants. “Oops!” Laur wraps a jacket – one of another set of 8 here in AZ – around his behind. I’m thinkin’ this is the end of these pants, but oh no. Laur finds a tailor a few blocks from us and brings them in. “How much?” he asks. “Three dollars,” responds the woman at the counter.
“Three dollars.” I said to Laur, “You can buy another pair of pants for this…” But Laur shushes me. “Great!” says he, “When can I pick them up?”
A few weeks later, Laur was off leading a Wednesday hike, which I don’t go on because I volunteer at the Food Bank in the morning, and for some reason Bob wasn’t along either. He got home and said, “Jannie, can you check the back of my pants?” “What am I looking for?” “A hole.” “Why do you think there is a hole?” Because a person would follow me for a while and then go back further in the line. And then the next person would do the same thing.” (I can’t make stuff like this up!)
Sure enough, he had another hole in his pants. I really don’t think it was that noticeable but then again, I’m married to the lad. He could forget to wear his pants on a hike and it would take me a while to figure out what might be missing… Off to the tailor. “How much!?” “Four dollars!” “OK!”
A few weeks later, Laur and I were doing a “Yikes Hike” and he caught the rump side of his pants on a cactus. RRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!! “Laur,” I said to him, “These pants are becoming like our old Cadillac. We put four times as much money into that car as we ever paid for it.”
And Laur responded, “But we liked our caddie and I like these pants.”
Back to the tailor. “How much?” Laur asked. She said, “FIVE dollars! But you are going to look like Frankenstein by the time I am finished with these pants this time!”
And true to her word, she did a thorough repair – also a reconstruction – with added patches and rows of zigzag stitching. Laur was thrilled, but she said, “Next time you also need to bring me a bottle of wine!”
My mom, Granny Marj, and I got quite a chuckle over this – how the stitching might end up being a little loopy. But really, I do not know how the backside of Laur’s pants could look any “seamier.”
*****
Do I have any “particularities” when it comes to clothes or accessories? Well, I’m not quite my Mom. At one point she counted up how many pairs of shoes she owned – and my mother likes to dress nicely – and … well … I can’t remember the final count, but we nick-named her Imelda Marcos for a time. (Imelda was the first lady to dictator and former president Ferdinand Marcos of the Philippines. Her show collection numbered about 3000 pairs.)
But I do like my running shoes. And I always have four pairs, and always Asics because I know they’ll fit and I hate trying things on.
Pair #1 – for my morning run around the park. OK, for my morning jog-walk. OK, for my slog (very slow jog.)
Pair #2 – for walking the park or running errands
Pair #3 – for hiking in the mud in St. Catharines. We never intend to hike in the mud, but if we’re exploring sections of the old Welland Canal, there will be mud.
Pair #4 – for the gym. I’ve had them for years. They never get worn outside and they never get worn out either. I’m there as much for the social aspect as I am for the exercise.
And speaking of running shoes, Big Five has “ASICS Frequent Trail Women's Running Shoes” on sale for $34.99. I almost feel deceitful buying them – I never actually run and certainly not on trails. I wear hiking boots for that. They will become my new Pair #1. Pair #1 becomes Pair #2. Pair #2 becomes Pair #3.
And pair #3 – my retired mud shoes? I don’t give them to Good Will – that would be unkind. I’ll be lucky if the landfill site will take them!
Laur, my proof-reader, commented, “Just be thankful they don’t fit me!”
Why coats, you may ask, since we winter in Arizona? Why indeed is a question I ask Laur on a regular basis – especially when I’m in one of my manic declutter modes. Two years ago in St. Catharines we counted up no less than eight warm but weary looking coats. Laur was not ready to part with any of them - not just quite yet – so we – OK, I – moved four to our storage locker. My theory is that these coats are his security blankets – he is still mildly traumatized by the winters spent in White River, Northern Ontario as a child. So I need to take this slow…
Backpacks? “Jannie, this one is for when we fly to the States and back. This one is for longer hikes. This is for short hikes. This pack is good for long bike rides. This one for shorter. And this one…” We have an entire shelf in our laundry room here in AZ dedicated to this motley crew.
And hiking pants. You have to know that these are all second hand or donated. And that Laur has been weaned down to four pairs. When you live in a trailer and share a closet, numbers matter.
Of the four pairs, though, Laur only wears one of them. Seriously, I need to do a wash after we get back from every hike (AFTER our showers or else the last one in gets a cold blast). Heaven knows we might hike twice in two days and then what would he do?!
“Laur, you have three other pairs of hiking pants…” “But I don’t like them as much. This one has belt loops and a belt so they stay up better.”
Now I have to admit, I’d rather his pants stay up when we are hiking, than not. Still, “Laur, you could go to the White Elephant and get another pair for three dollars.” “But Jannie, I like THESE pants.” Sigh!
These pants were well used when he got them. A few months ago, Bob, Laur, and I were hiking. Laur generally leads and Bob stays up front because the two of them like to yack. Me, I’m at the tail end, enjoying my podcasts. Bob says to Laur, “I’m seeing something that no one should have to see…”
“Heh?” says Laur. Bob points, Laur rubs the back of his pants. “Oops!” Laur wraps a jacket – one of another set of 8 here in AZ – around his behind. I’m thinkin’ this is the end of these pants, but oh no. Laur finds a tailor a few blocks from us and brings them in. “How much?” he asks. “Three dollars,” responds the woman at the counter.
“Three dollars.” I said to Laur, “You can buy another pair of pants for this…” But Laur shushes me. “Great!” says he, “When can I pick them up?”
A few weeks later, Laur was off leading a Wednesday hike, which I don’t go on because I volunteer at the Food Bank in the morning, and for some reason Bob wasn’t along either. He got home and said, “Jannie, can you check the back of my pants?” “What am I looking for?” “A hole.” “Why do you think there is a hole?” Because a person would follow me for a while and then go back further in the line. And then the next person would do the same thing.” (I can’t make stuff like this up!)
Sure enough, he had another hole in his pants. I really don’t think it was that noticeable but then again, I’m married to the lad. He could forget to wear his pants on a hike and it would take me a while to figure out what might be missing… Off to the tailor. “How much!?” “Four dollars!” “OK!”
A few weeks later, Laur and I were doing a “Yikes Hike” and he caught the rump side of his pants on a cactus. RRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!! “Laur,” I said to him, “These pants are becoming like our old Cadillac. We put four times as much money into that car as we ever paid for it.”
And Laur responded, “But we liked our caddie and I like these pants.”
Back to the tailor. “How much?” Laur asked. She said, “FIVE dollars! But you are going to look like Frankenstein by the time I am finished with these pants this time!”
And true to her word, she did a thorough repair – also a reconstruction – with added patches and rows of zigzag stitching. Laur was thrilled, but she said, “Next time you also need to bring me a bottle of wine!”
My mom, Granny Marj, and I got quite a chuckle over this – how the stitching might end up being a little loopy. But really, I do not know how the backside of Laur’s pants could look any “seamier.”
*****
Do I have any “particularities” when it comes to clothes or accessories? Well, I’m not quite my Mom. At one point she counted up how many pairs of shoes she owned – and my mother likes to dress nicely – and … well … I can’t remember the final count, but we nick-named her Imelda Marcos for a time. (Imelda was the first lady to dictator and former president Ferdinand Marcos of the Philippines. Her show collection numbered about 3000 pairs.)
But I do like my running shoes. And I always have four pairs, and always Asics because I know they’ll fit and I hate trying things on.
Pair #1 – for my morning run around the park. OK, for my morning jog-walk. OK, for my slog (very slow jog.)
Pair #2 – for walking the park or running errands
Pair #3 – for hiking in the mud in St. Catharines. We never intend to hike in the mud, but if we’re exploring sections of the old Welland Canal, there will be mud.
Pair #4 – for the gym. I’ve had them for years. They never get worn outside and they never get worn out either. I’m there as much for the social aspect as I am for the exercise.
And speaking of running shoes, Big Five has “ASICS Frequent Trail Women's Running Shoes” on sale for $34.99. I almost feel deceitful buying them – I never actually run and certainly not on trails. I wear hiking boots for that. They will become my new Pair #1. Pair #1 becomes Pair #2. Pair #2 becomes Pair #3.
And pair #3 – my retired mud shoes? I don’t give them to Good Will – that would be unkind. I’ll be lucky if the landfill site will take them!
Laur, my proof-reader, commented, “Just be thankful they don’t fit me!”