for a handful of years in the mid-nineties, my family's summer vacation was a week at stanford sierra camp, an eccentric affair up near lake tahoe where alumni and their relatives weave pine-needle baskets, roast marshmallows, and hear lectures on global warming and judicial history. our week's featured speaker one year was sandra day o'connor, and the cabins were atwitter before she arrived: would she discuss contemporary cases? would there be room for everyone at the talk? would she stick around for square dancing? one of my friends was fishing up at witch's pond one evening, as one does, when with nary a rustle or snapped twig, sandra day o'connor materialized from the undergrowth. "justice is served," said she [i paraphrase], and he greeted her in the only way one can when confronted with a supreme court justice on a fine summer's eve: "this is my fish," he said, holding up his tin minnow bucket.
i'm married lady of the day over at east side bride; i haven't a tin minnow bucket, but these are my green pants.
they were $15 at a barneys warehouse sale a few years ago, and they make people exclaim things happily. it's entirely possible that "i love green pants!" is shorthand for "i love [that you are the one wearing] green pants [and i am safe over here];" i'm okay with that as well.
imaginary reading group discussion questions
01 if you were a supreme court justice, how would you announce yourself?
02 what's your most popular article of clothing?
03 would you wear green pants?
