Brown Eggs and Spilt Milk

There's a thing in our family. We all do it. I tried to deny it until I was about 9: the Moyer gardening outfit. No one does it like my grandpa, but the mishap combination of clothing that any of us put on when we're going out of doors to see no one but the neighbors driving by on their John Deers is remarkable. My mom is so dedicated to the cause she still dons Grandpa Don's flannel-lined jeans once in a while.

We love you, grandpa, I'm sure somewhere in the complete self-un-awareness that comes over us when we leave the house [read: the closet] in something that ridiculous, we still do it for you.