The Long and Short of it

Summer is finally here in NW Indiana! Ahhhh summer! Now is the time for H & I to embark on our annual battle regarding summer clothing. You see, being from Ireland, H did not grow up wearing Jams and Birkenstocks and Gap T's and Nikes. Although he grew up RIGHT ACROSS from the ocean, H did not own a pair of shorts when I met him. (As a side note, he did own a Speedo; however, that mysteriously disappeared shortly after we got married and I didn't care how fashionable it was OVER THERE.) Anyway, I have never been able to understand H's aversion to wearing shorts. For nearly 18 years I have purchased every brand of shorts for him in hopes he will join the fashion ranks in 90 degree heat. Eddie Bauer, Old Navy, Gap, Dockers, Columbia, you name it, he probably has a pair of unused, still-with-tags-on shorts. I buy them, he tries them on, says, "Yeah, these are great.", and I never see them again.

Why my obsession, you ask? It probably stems from the first time the two of us, as lovey dovey newlyweds, decided to head for the beach. We lived in Boston in a 3rd floor apartment that could have easily doubled as an easy-bake oven at the time. It was one of those places where you were ok when you walked in the door of the building but as you ascended the stairs to floors 2 and 3 you slowly had the air sucked out of you with each step. The heat was stifling. One such stifling day, H suggested we hop on the train and find a beach. We were new to the city so this unexpected outing was just the thing to make us feel like Boston was going to be home to us. I was so excited!!! A picnic! A romantic walk! A tan!! My eagerness was short-lived; however, when H announced he was ready to go. To my horrer, he walked out in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Not even a t-shirt. A long sleeved-had-to-be-ironed shirt! HUH?? Our beach trip was not very fun. I felt like I was on a cancer-detection mission with the surgeon general. He was covered from head to toe. I felt heatstroke coming on just when I looked at him. Since that fateful day when I realized I had married a man who considered jeans and a long sleeved shirt beach togs, I have made it my personal mission to convert him to shorts. "You'll look so nice", I say, "AND, you will be cool as a cucumber!" I once wrapped up a bottle of SPF45 and put it in the pocket of the new shorts as a surprise bonus. He didn't even bat an eye.

Imagine my surprise yesterday, when a pair of Old Navy khaki shorts emerged from the vault. He wore them all day as we worked at the new house. He even wore them while he sat outside eating lunch. When he took them off in the evening, he carefully folded them and exclaimed to me, "You know, these are pretty comfortable."

Happy Summer :)