Shoes, shirt, silver

I bought a pair of deck shoes, liked them, and bought another pair thinking I'd 
wear one for kicking around in and the other for more respectable outings. They 
sit next to one another under the sideboard by the front door, ready to fulfill their 
individual daily destinies. I don't always honor their designated missions, however, 
and over time they've gotten harder to tell apart. Seems I will soon have two pair 
of kick-around deck shoes. It doesn't work in reverse.


I have a T shirt that fits so well that I never wear it. I'm saving it. On the rare 
occasions that rise to its sartorial splendor, I forget that I even own it, let alone 
can wear it. I noticed it on the rack in the closet yesterday and put it on. It still 
fits... well, to a T. I wore it to Home Depot. (My life is a breathless social whirl.) 
When I was walking back to my car, a guy drove by in a pickup and yelled out the 
window, I kid you not, "I want that T shirt!"

Bobby is back from North Carolina, or South Carolina, whichever is the mecca 
whence decorators go to buy furniture, and keep an eye on each other. After 
dinner, spaghetti, at his house, we went to a bar where a girl was selling silver 
jewelry at a table. He treated himself to a ring and a bracelet. Admiring his new 
cache, arm extended, fingers spread, he said "Clients expect me to look good."