Today at noon, my Carol Brady shag will be shorn. I've misplaced my Big Book O' Haircuts so I have no picture to show the most wonderful and talented Marguerite who cuts my hair. I love her. She knows I'm an idiot about all things girlie and cuts it so even if I were in a coma, my hair would look marvelous. I'm tempted to just tell her to shave it all off.
Yesterday evening at an event I attended, a gentleman with whom I'd struck up a conversation said something rather condescending. I surprised myself. Usually a snotty remark would bring up all my class anxieties, you know what's a po' white gal like me trying to rub elbows with Charleston elite, and I would have been covered in shame for saying whatever it was that I said to show my inferiority. But that didn't happen. In fact I had to suppress a giggle at him for being a snotty snob when there was no cause to be a snotty snob.
If anyone at the Charleston Air Base just happens to read this, can you request that the Thunderbirds or whoever it is wasting tons of jet fuel....I mean having an airshow this Saturday, can they STOP flying ten inches over my house during practice? Pretty please with things vibrating off my bookshelves on top?
And why is Thor, the God of Thunder, afraid of the jets, yet Loki the drama queen cat just looks up at the ceiling when they pass?
Loki sez: I am not a drama queen!