My Dirty Denim Dilemma

I made a new friend recently. I say recently, but it she is one of those friends that I think, “What was life like before I knew Megan?” I don’t remember. It seems like she has always been here in Sidney, living on Glade Avenue, cutting and coloring my hair. She plans things and then makes fun, and classy. Megan makes me feel like I am living in Steel Magnolias, and it is a dream come true. She is Truvy, and I am Weezer, only she doesn't accessorize as much as I do. Maybe she is more Annelle, and I am Clairee. Maybe our parts will become more defined as we age. 

Megan’s husband is a clothing designer at Cabela’s. It honestly makes me feel cooler to say I have a friend who is a designer. No exaggeration. It is the same feeling I have when saying I have a friend who was on Jeopardy. And I have a friend with a Phd who teaches creative writing. And I have married friends who were on Broadway before they had kids. These friends vicariously make me cooler. Oh, and I know Sharee Stone Gariety. I am the president of her fan club.

Anyway, Megan and Tyson have this thing called Cookie Sunday. They are my favorite. What were Sundays before cookies were involved? Well, they were not quite as delicious, I will tell you that.  Cookie Sunday is when Megan makes 500 chocolate chip cookies and puts them on her counter top, and we eat them. The kids play in the basement, sometimes with the infinite legos that live there. Cookies are not allowed in the basement. Some kid always forgets and we find half a cookie down there when we are cleaning up. I talk about Cookie Sundays like they have also been around forever, but in reality there have only been two of them.

The first cookie Sunday I learned about the proper feeding and caring of denim. Wait for your mind to be blown. Denim is special, and needs special treatment. Denim is not to be washed in the washing machine-EVER! Not washed inside out, not washed on cold, and hung dried. It should never, ever enter the washing machine. It is that special. The washing machine does something to the denim that is not good. Spot washed, and then occasionally you put your jeans in the cold water bathtub, and give them a light scrubbing.

This is what Tyson and Megan do with their jeans, and they are experts, and very cool. Like, you see Tyson and Megan walking down the street, and you want to be their friends because they have that cool vibe. But, they are also really down to earth and fun, so you are surprised when they actually want to be your friend back. It is a whirl of emotions.

So now, I have these jeans. Three pairs personally, and one pair specifically-my from the Buckle jeans. They have been worn for days and days, just like the designer Tyson told me to. Days, people. Kneeling on the floor, changing baby diapers, walking downtown Sidney, pushing kids in the park, grocery shopping. I wear the jeans all the time. I think they are dirty.  I think they need to be washed. But, now I am cursed with the wisdom of knowing better. I can't wash them like I used to do  in the machine. They must be washed in the bathtub. That takes serious commitment, the whole bathtub thing. I wouldn’t want to wash just one pair of jeans, or even my three pairs. I should have all of  the Hornbarger jeans in that tub if I am committing an entire  bathtub of water and denim to this venture.

I imagine when I do put all that denim in the tub it will be like “A Walk in the Clouds,” and the making of the wine. You remember the scene: the beautiful girl in a white dress, stomping those red grapes with her gorgeous feet, the family laughing on. We kind of all fell in love with her and whats-his-face at the same time. It was in slow motion, catching every movement of her hair. When I wash my denim jeans, it will be like the grapes being pulled from the vines and put in the tubs. Then I will stomp them with my beautiful feet. The water will splash, my face with be radiant with the rebelliousness of the situation, and the denim will be purged from the filth of Saruman.

Until that beautiful day, I just have dirty jeans.