I was off duty this weekend, a welcomed reprieve after a sleep-deprived start to the week. Megan and I enjoyed Saturday morning with the horses, schooling the 10 month old and the 3 year old at an obstacle course. We made it back to the farm at lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon putting up the fence around the riding arena. We woke up Sunday morning and drove the last of the nails in the arena fence before church.
I haven’t updated the world, but we sold our home back in November and have moved into the apartment out at the clinic. We’re enjoying being on the farm and close to the horses. We looked into starting construction on our home at the farm, but lumber prices are at a high due to COVID and are expected to peak in March or April this year. We made the decision to wait a while to see if lumber normalizes some before we build a house costs more than it is worth. So it is small living for us for a while – almost like we’re back in college. Honestly, it’s not bad at all.
We grabbed lunch after church today. Listen. Foothills Meats aka Butcher Bar in Black Mountain, NC featured a special brisket melt sandwich today that nearly made my tongue slap my brains out. Brisket, pickled onion, slaw, and pimento cheese snuggled up between two buttery grilled pieces of Texas toast. Yeah. Mercy. Sinning on a Sunday. Delicious.
I tend to fold and hang my laundry on Sunday afternoons. It’s not a rule, but it just seems to happen that way each week. Megan tends to do the washing. We learned very early on that I am not capable of identifying which parts of her wardrobe and undergarments need certain temperatures of water or those that cannot go in the dryer. I will gladly put my stuff away and stay away from her laundry for the good of our marriage. As I was going through the weekly motions, I started thinking about my how we go through phases in life and how different things have changed over 20 years.
I wear the same clothes every week. In the winter, that is a work polo, insulated pants, long socks, underwear, warm wool/wool-blend socks and a base layer of thermal long-johns. All of my clothes are some shade of dark gray, navy, hunter green…colors that easily hide stains of the assorted fluids and excrement my patients are constantly sharing. On the weekend, maybe a button down for church and some khakis and I may have 1 pair of good jeans for a date night. I remember the days of high school and college when clothes were something that I bought more frequently and changed up. Clothes seemed to matter more then. I certainly didn’t mind spending money on them and seeking out brand names. If I buy clothes now, it is out of necessity. I’ve either busted the knees out of another pair of work pants, snagged some barbed wire, or worn through the soles of another pair of boots. But to buy clothes just to have a new shirt? Nah. I’m also really good at getting into a project by accident at the farm while wearing good jeans or a decent shirt. It is only a few minutes and a smear of tractor grease later and suddenly they are beyond saving. Minus one for date night jeans, plus one to farm jeans.
I’m curious if there are things currently in my thirties that I value more, but I won’t give much thought in my 40s or 50s. Granted, clothes are not some deeply held moral belief or value, but I did care a lot more about style in those days. Maybe it is just a teenager and 20-something year old thing. Maybe it is just the dating scene and trying to fit in with the crowd. Perhaps I don’t care as much now about what others think about my wardrobe and brand selection. Whatever the case, it is an interesting shift!
May the week be kind to you.
PS: The nice lady who took my order for that bomb-diggity sandwich told me she loved the color of my shirt. I had to look down to see what I had on – Sunday button up – teal, a gift from my wife a few years ago. I was surprised to hear anyone compliment my boring wardrobe. I suck at receiving compliments, but my brain did manage to merge it all together and respond with a “thank you!”
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