In honor of Black Friday, we bought a $1.99 jug of laundry detergent and a $4.49 bottle of shampoo and used a $3.00 off coupon. We are some high rollers. I thought about buying a magnifying mirror so I could pluck my own eyebrows and not have them waxed but looking in the mirror at my giant face I realized I still wanted my friend Kris to take care of this part of my face. I like the feel of her smoothing witch hazel on my just-waxed brows too much to give up just yet.
Sometimes it grieves me so that my older daughter and her beautiful babies live across the country. It’s a hard one, that’s for sure. But I try to visit often and when I’m there to be fully and completely present although they are a lot, these twin boys, their sister, and their amazing parents, overwhelming sometimes in the life force they radiate but in the best way, the very best way. I store it up for the time I am away. That way I can look at this bi-coastal arrangement as a gift and not a heartache.
I’ve become accustomed to the weird fact that my two retired sled dogs don’t bark. So when a black poodle came up to one of them today at the dog park and then barked and barked and barked, I wanted to punch him in the nose, that’s how irritating the noise was. The barker’s owner was irked as well, I could see him pacing around and calling out his dog’s name in a limp effort to make him stop barking. Sometimes I love watching futility in action; lets me imagine how extremely powerful and commanding I would be in the same situation. Ha.
When I was a kid I had a pair of dungarees with flannel lining. Since that time, since my sojourn in the Land before Time, the term dungarees has been replaced with jeans. I ordered a pair of said flannel-lined jeans from L.L.Bean and they came proportioned to fit a size 12 Barbie, the waist so small, Scarlett O’Hara could have worn these jeans to meet Ashley Wilkes. I knew this the minute the jeans passed my knees. Not happening. So now I am going to Farm & Fleet, hoedown central, to buy my dungarees. Stay tuned. I will post a picture.
My outrage meter sprang a gasket. So I wiped up the mess and reset it. There isn’t a choice. Trump and his weird devotees count on everyone else getting weary, they’re waiting for us to nod off, fall asleep at the wheel so they can take over the country and claim we didn’t care long enough to keep paying attention. I’m slapping my own self today just so I stay awake and stay mad. I can come slap you, too, just let me know.