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Monday

Pajamas are sexist. Aren’t they?




Pajamas are sexist. Nope, I didn’t say sexy. I said sexist. And it’s totally true.

It’s not an issue of provocative fashions, either. I’m talking about comfy jam pants – those baggy elastic- or drawstring-waist pantaloons, made of soft cotton, flannel, or fleece. These are the wonderfully cozy and uber-casual pants that most people pull on for private leisure time at home.

OK, I know plenty of sensible freelancers who wear jammy pants to the office (at home). And, don’t look now, but lots of photobombers wear them to do their grocery shopping.

Forgive me. I digress. (Sometimes those rabbit trails can be hard to resist. That’s why I like the jammies pictured here.) Let’s talk about why pajamas are sexist.

The issue is quite simple. Men’s and boys’ pajama pants have pockets. Women’s and girls’ pajama pants almost never do.

OK, maybe I misspoke. Maybe pajamas aren’t the sexist ones.

Let's not blame pajamas. Maybe it's the pajama makers that are sexist ... or the pajama designers.

What’s the story here, fashion industry?  Get with it, pajama-makers!

I like to sew, and I have whipped up more pairs of pajama pants (for myself, my family members, and even friends) than I could ever count. You don’t wanna know how many pairs of pajama pants I have – from summer cottons to warm winter flannels. Although I usually prefer to pair a favorite tee shirt with my PJ pants, I have made plenty of pajama tops and even bathrobes to match.


C’mon, now. I’ve tailored most of these myself, so please don’t get any of my family members’ undies in a bundle over my PJ collection.


Pajama pants are simple to sew. But here’s the thing: When I use a pajama sewing pattern for women, I have to design and add pockets.

This is pocket prejudice!

We gotta wonder. Did it never occur to PJ makers that women might want to carry cell phones or other stuff around, even after we put on our pajamas? Or do they think women will feel less fashionistically flattered by the added bulk a side-seam pocket or two might add around their middles?

And what would be wrong with adding a patch pocket or two to a pair of pajama pants for a woman?

Oh, and don’t get me started about the flimsy and wimpy elastic they use in women’s pajama pants or (worse) the dainty drawstrings? Men’s PJ pants have sturdy row-stitched, non-roll elastic in the waistbands, which is not only more comfortable, but actually more flattering.

Seriously sexist.

Don’t tell anyone, but this lady frequently purchases pajama pants in the boys’ or men’s department, just for the pockets. Hey, plaids are plaids. Stripes are stripes. Besides, guys PJs are almost always constructed of sturdier fabrics. What’s up with that?

Hey, ladies: Raise your hands, if you want pockets in your pajamas.

Image:
Photos by LAN for Practically at Home
All rights reserved


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Wednesday

I fixed my dishwasher's silverware basket for pennies




Sometimes the solution to a problem is a snap. Or maybe a zip to tie things up fast.

My dishwasher’s plastic silverware basket had sprung a few leaks. Actually, the grid work on the sides and bottoms of several sections sported gaping holes, where sharp steak knives and other utensils had poked right through the plastic.


I started looking online for replacement baskets for the dishwasher. A matching basket for my particular dishwasher was going to cost about $40. Ouch!


So I did what any other improvising individual might do. I grabbed some plastic zip ties and closed up the holes. (They really are just pennies apiece.) Then I snipped off the tails. And that was that.



It’s not all that pretty, but it works fine. And who’s looking closely inside my dishwasher, anyway?

Image:
Photos by LAN for Practically at Home
All rights reserved


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Friday

Door to door meat deals? No thanks.



 “Ding-dong!”

Nope, it wasn’t Avon calling. It was a guy with meat for sale. Are they kidding?

“Good morning ma’am. Do you like steak? I’m selling $25 worth of meat for $5,” chirped the cheery door-to-door salesman.

He pointed at a rusty truck with a makeshift freezer compartment in the back and hand-painted lettering on the sides. The thing looked like it might have been t-boned a time or two.

Chop! Chop!

“No, thank you,” I answered and closed my door.

I had no beef with the guy, but I wasn’t buying. Potential food poisoning is no bargain – at any price. And the quality control appeared questionable. Not exactly well done.

The meat salesman didn’t give his name. Maybe it was E. Koleye, Sal Minella, Claus Tridium, or Les Teria. Who knows? He could have been Chuck Waggon, Biff Brisket, Phil Aye, Van Eisen, or Sir Lon Supreme for all I could tell.

Whatever his name, he was a rare one, trying to stake his claim to our neighborhood’s meat consumption business.

Sometimes you just gotta shake your head and wonder. It’s one thing to order meat from a reputable purveyor for home delivery. But cold-call meat for sale smacks of something entirely different.

Well, hot dog!

As the guy climbed into his truck to drive away, I ran a quick online search for his company name. You guessed it: I found nothing online.

I might have a bone to pick with such a business.

Fly-by-night door-to-door discount meat may not be such a great deal, after all. And that’s no baloney.


Image:
Adapted from public domain artwork

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