After years of sounding like an old man in a rocking chair on the porch crabbing about those damn kids today, I finally decided to find out what the deal is with the droopy jeans. The issue was complicated by the fact that Floyd was out, and I'm off to Mt. Hood for a reading, so I didn't have anyone to take my picture.Undaunted, I brought my camera with me to the grocery store, where I always run into someone I know. True to form, I heard someone call my name the moment I stepped out of my car. It was children's author Nancy Coffelt, who snapped this pic of my buns in the baked goods department.
As for the droopy jeans, I must admit I found it very relaxing, though I felt more like a baggy pants burlesque comic waiting for a busty nurse to deliver her cue.
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