Random Thoughts and a "Sharp Dressed Man"

“They come runnin' just as fast as they can
Coz' every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man.”

After a certain age, those lyrics from ZZ Top no longer apply.  For me, that age line was crossed many years ago.  Nonetheless, even if they are not crazy about him, folks occasionally respond to a sharp dressed man.

Friday morning, a new wave of Jehovah’s Witnesses inundated the Convention Center.  This was the fourth consecutive weekend.  But unlike the previous three weekends, the disruption in our lives had passed.  Maybe that bit of peace showed in my demeanor as at least three groups of the faithful came up and asked for directions to the Convention Center during the short jaunt from the parking lot to Starbucks and then to the office. 

Maybe wearing a suit made me look like one of the faithful.  But I did not have a cardboard sign in hand like others.  That begged the question of have you ever seen a Jehovah’s Witness in an Italian suit and $100 tie.  As I walked down I Street, however, that was all in the rear view mirror. 

Farther back in the rear view mirror were the previous three weeks.  They were filled with news for the Pups.  In fact, we were bombarded with news.  At some point, I hardly could contain myself.  But our usual Thursday evening practices got out of kilter. 

First, Lisa -- Robert’s companion -- went to the emergency room for a pinched nerve.  Her health was more important than practice.  Then, Glenn’s birthday dinner with the Wiki Weekend Warriors fell on a Thursday.  Neither Glenn nor I could say to our wives and friends, “Sorry, no birthday celebration because we have band practice.” 

So, I sent out an email suggesting a Wednesday.  Maybe a prior Outlook check would have been a good idea.  Sue responded, “That’s our Mom’s birthday.”  You got it.  Sue and I could not say to our Mom and sister, “Sorry, no birthday celebration because we have band practice.”

How did all of these commitments sneak up on us?  We had news to share with each other.  Suddenly, people seemed to be interested in the Pups and four middle-aged folks playing instrumental surf music with a dose of Link Wray edge and bit of punk irreverence.  Maybe four middle-aged folks playing music is not as far-fetched as it sometimes seems. 

We needed to plan -- to know to what we would commit or not commit.  For a stretch there, I thought I was going to explode!  As I walked down I Street, I was relieved that that was behind us.

That feeling of relief was interrupted as a car pulled up and the driver rolled down the window.  “Sir, how do we get to the Convention Center?”  Oh, the curse of being a sharp dressed man.

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