"I'm going to hang out."

Though I've paid my dues with dryers and laundry mats, for the last 27 years, I've decided to take on the clothesline.

Of course, Texas must take some credit in my decision. Stepping out onto a summer is like walking through the portal of a dryer. The swirling heat dehydrates and kills bacteria in one hour flat. But for whatever reasons there are to 'hang out', (the lack of a dryer, conserve energy, exercise) I've noticed that a philosophy of life has entwined itself around the clothesline pole.

First, I have to get up every morning, and just do it, no matter how I'm feeling, no matter how big the mountain-pile grows.

The older I get, the more I have learned about the tricks of the trade.

1. How many clothespins do I really need?
2. How should those jeans be hung (by cuffs or waistband) to maximize turnabout?
3. How can I economize on only 2 lines?

Sometimes the chore takes on bittersweet attributes. I watch the sizes of the children's clothes grow, the towels go threadbare, my own large, white underwear sail against a clear blue sky. It's a solo cringe as I wonder if that shirt will hold on as the wind whips the wrinkles out of it, always knowing it's for the best.

I'm being judged by the public for being different. People see that towel with the 2 holes in it flapping in the breeze. Neighbors tend to keep their distance thinking I'm certifiably insane because of the 'perfectly good technology' at my disposal. Airplane pilots rely on me as their visual landmark on their way in for a landing.

Still, how can I help but see the benefits of the noble deed of every-day hanging?

1. Fresh-smelling clothes, inspite of a polluted environment
2. The family's appreciation as they add to the pile
3. Shoulder muscles the size of Mt. Rushmore
4. My wind-blown hair-do that used to be so popular,
5. AND...it prepares me for a cold, rainy day!