Is there anyone out there that hasn't made or at least heard the crack about clothing that has holes in it being referred to as church clothes because they're so 'holy?' Well, yesterday, I had an extremely holy day.
I got dressed in a hurry, which often happens when I find a car pulling into my driveway and myself still wearing pj's and a bathrobe. My kids were amazed at my speed, in fact--downstairs, fully dressed and back up in about thirty seconds flat, still fastening my belt as I walked back into the living room. The visitor wasn't for me, it was for the woodworking class out in the shop, so my haste was in vain, but hey, I was dressed.
An hour later I went out to turn on the sprinkler in the flower garden and felt a distinct draft. Between my legs. I hurried back into the house and headed straight for the hall bathroom to check out the situation. With horror, I realized that I had inadvertently pulled on the pair of blue jeans that I ripped at the county fair, climbing over the rail of the hog's stall and catching them on something sharp. There was a one inch jagged gash in the denim, directly between the legs. (Note: Is it ever a good time to mention that I occasionally go freestyle? I'm not necessarily committing to the fact that this was one of those days, but there is a fairly good chance that it might have been.) I was glad I hadn't done much of anything active yet that would leave me exposed. I'd mostly just been working in the kitchen, legs down and fairly together. I left the bathroom to go back downstairs and change.
But on my way, the kitchen timer went off. And something on the stove needed stirring. And Ellie needed me to check over her spelling words. And Tano wanted to show me some cool video footage he had shot for his filmmaking class...
I forgot all about the church pants.
The next time I thought about them was when I was headed to the picnic table on the deck to serve the woodworking class luncheon. (Incidentally, isn't 'luncheon' a funny looking word? The only word I can think of that is similar to it in structure is truncheon--something decidedly un-luncheon-like.) At that point, there was no turning back. The meal had to be served. I swung my leg carefully over the picnic table bench to sit down, grateful that I still had my cooking apron on to cover. I reminded myself that I had to change right after lunch.
But when lunch was over and dessert had been served, it was time to clear the table and put away the leftovers. Then, Ellie needed help with math and Tano needed me to sign in to my user on the computer so he could access some of his school work that got put in the wrong place. The phone rang and a load of laundry needed to be moved to the dryer. Without the breeze of the outdoors whistling through my legs, I once again forgot all about the need to change my pants.
Driving in the van with my son down to Hamilton to his filmmaking class, late in the afternoon, I suddenly became aware of the air conditioning...in a way I'd never been aware of it before. I was still wearing those jeans! At this point, with no apron to cover me any more, I was stuck. We couldn't turn back; we were already running a little late. I was to spend the next couple of hours running errands in Hamilton and working at the library, waiting for his class to let out--all with my awkwardly air conditioned jeans. I would just have to be careful. No stretching, no striding, no bending over to pick something up.
Must remember, must remember! I tried to remind myself, but it's funny how something so out of sight can so quickly slip out of mind, too.
Arriving back at home, the class celebration dinner and campfire had already begun without us. We generally do an evening celebration like this on the second Thursday of the two week rocking chair class. It always makes for a busy and long day for me, but today was even crazier than usual, with Tano's film class from 4:30 to 6:30, forty minutes away. I had made most of the dishes for the dinner before we went to the class, left detailed instructions for Andy to cook the meat, and went over all the details of making the garlic bread and setting the meal out with eleven year old (but very capable) Ellie. Upon returning, I hurried into the kitchen to get dessert going. The meal was already started...and it was a Santa Marie-style BBQ, a favorite. With a final stir of the berry sauce, which would be drizzled over the pre-made cake, I headed for the door. Down by the campfire ring, my tri-tip was getting cold and my beer was getting warm.
Then I remembered the hole in my pants. Sitting in a camp chair around the fire was not going to be good. But my tri-tip! It was already 7:30 and I was so hungry...
I grabbed my apron again. It is long and can cover a multitude of sins. And after all, I should have been wearing it to make the berry sauce anyway, right? It would make sense that I had forgotten to take it off, as I spend much of the class week wearing that black apron, embroidered with the Chidwick School of Fine Woodworking logo. I tied the apron behind my back and trotted out the door for the circle of people around the campfire.
The dinner was delicious. The dessert turned out perfectly. The beer was still almost cold. The fire was great. And the apron did its job. After dinner and the dishes and some time working on the computer, I finally changed out of my church clothes and dropped into bed.
I had worn those things the entire day, and with only a few isolated moments of stress and panic. A little fresh air now and then isn't such a bad thing, I guess.