Life in Tucson

I don't think anyone who has not lived in Tucson or visited for an extended period of time can truly appreciate the bizarre dress code here.

I was walking into the office this morning (it's a 10-minute walk from my car to my office) in 40 degree temperatures. I was wearing jeans, dress boots, a cotton tank top, a black turtleneck cashmere sweater, a black cotton cardigan (wearing it rather than carrying it to get it back to the office) and a hooded Burberry's quilted jacket. I happened to hit the sidewalk with a [cute guy named Joe] Raytheon employee wearing shorts and a polo shirt. He said I was looking very Nanook-of-the-north. I laughed and laughed.

When I went to hear Denyce Graves the other evening, she was wearing a couple of exquisite evening gowns (not simultaneously!) and I was wearing my mink coat and my fave long wool knit dress with enormous cowl collar that I made back in 1998. (I wanted Denyce to feel right at home.) The guy sitting in front of me was wearing a striped short-sleeved polo shirt.

Neither Frank nor Doug own a suit or even a sports jacket. Doug told me that when his daughter got married a year-and-a-half ago, he gave her a really hard time about having to dress up for the wedding!

But the worst was the guy two years ago who only wore stained polo shirts. He did own a suit, but it was 20 years old and looked it.

I did mention, in laughing, to the guy I walked in with this morning that I spend more time taking my clothes off and on for my hot flashes than smokers take for all their smoke breaks. He offered to come help me clean my office anytime I needed it.