Tweed and Cords Thursday. . .

Not exactly chilly here in Mid-Michigan yesterday, but pleasantly cool and gray. Perfect weather for breaking out the tweed and cords along with the gunboats for the feet. A not unpleasant combination of items resulted I think.

Frustratingly, I noticed when I changed into pajamas before dinner yesterday evening that I had failed to turn the wool socks right side out when last they were washed, so they are inside out here. Not a huge tragedy as things go, but the already subtle pattern is less pronounced than might be hoped in the third photograph.

Picked up a couple of suits from the tailor today, and dropped off a few pairs of dress corduroy pants for minor alterations. The waists must be taken in two inches on three pairs, and a full three inches on the fourth. The latter fit comfortably when purchased two years ago, but they fall off me now.

The end result of almost 13 months of eating less, exercising more, and really watching calorie intake most days. Advice given to me by my doctor in 1999 when I had a physical prior to leaving for a Fulbright year in Norway. Solid council on her part.

A shame it took so long for me to take concrete steps toward losing it and, more important, keeping it off. Certainly a challenge over 50, but not impossible either.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

A Friday Evening P. S.

I spent a couple of hours later this afternoon moving spring, summer, and early fall items down to the cedar closet in the (fully finished) basement and moving late fall, winter, and early spring things upstairs. In addition, I took the opportunity to weed out a variety of suits, jackets, blazers, and pants from the rotation.

All are things that I either have not worn for two or more years, or they are not favorite items. Almost a closet full of stuff that is now bagged up in two large bundles for donation.

Hopefully, these clothes will find homes with men who need (and will actually wear) dressier items. Once in a while.

The pessimist in me suggests this will be almost never given the way society has gone the last 30 years or so. The global pandemic has not helped either.

But a guy can dream, right?

In any case, the two and a half closets where my things hang, depending on the season, now have considerably more space for what I have kept. And that means not only will it be easier to find what I am after on a given day, but everything will be less squashed and less wrinkled.

H-U

Comments

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Y ou know, if it is going to remain this cold and blustery, I need about eight inches of snow for some more cross-country skiing. But since the white stuff is long gone, it was time to fish through the cedar closet down in Zum Stollenkeller and pull out some cold weather attire for a seasonal reboot. But I decided to forgo the usual gray herringbone jacket from J. Press (my go-to tweed sports jacket) and instead opted for this number from Hart, Schaffner, and Marx plus the tan cords that hang on the same hanger, so strenuous mental effort was not required. Pressed the shirt after tucking in the Young Master last night at 8:30, grabbed these shoes, and socks, and Bob is your mother's brother as they say. Occasionally gazing through the large library window to my immediate left this morning, and I keep hearing that old Jobim tune drift through my mind this morning (aided by the windmills), as sung by Astrud Gilberto ( together with Leonard Cohen and Paolo Conte, the musi

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