Wednesday, January 30, 2013


Ok, so yes, the weather man did predict wind and possible tornadoes yesterday afternoon. As the night deepened into a black shield, the wind rattled the chimney flue and the gutters occasionally beat a rhythm against the house when it was approaching from just the right direction. Occasionally I would peak out the door to make sure Dorothy wasn't streaking across the sky. The full moon was shrouded by clouds that moved quickly across it's face causing visibility only possible by the weak street lamp on the edge of the neighbor's lawn.

Finally  around 2200 hrs I gave up on my tornado watch and ate an Ambien. Twenty minutes later the roof could have sailed skyward and I would have been oblivious. 

0500 arrives and I glide down the hall  heading for the coffee pot. As my usual routine, while the coffee is dripping I empty the dishwasher of the clean dishes and store them in the cupboard, pour a cup of coffee and head to the nearest television to tune in to the news channels. 

Soon the time arrives to go to Carrie's house to collect her for school. Today is picture day so Carrie is dressed in a dress. The bodice is bright pink and black stripes that encircle her horizontally, the skirt short, solid black with layers and again horizontally attached. She doesn't look happy. She wants to wear a uniform skirt beneath this dress. Modest Carrie worries that during her day of school she might bend over and expose her underwear. Much unlike her mother that flashes the mailman (see yesterday's post) Carrie wants some pantie insurance. Her mother shows her how to crouch down without bending over. From the look on Carrie's face, she is not buying this as a guarantee.

The bus collected Carrie; she had tied her hooded sweater around her waist as if this would protect. I drove home, changed my hair color and scooped up a uniform skirt, a pair of black cotton shorts and a pair of black leggings. I called to the hubby, "I'm off to the school to take Carrie some cothes.

Carrie was called to the office. I offered one of the  three choices of clothing. Shorts, uniform skirt or a pair of leggings, she chose the leggings. She begged me to stay for lunch. It was only 0845 and lunch is not served until 1030hrs. A  1 1/2 hr. wait, I tried to explain that it was too long to wait. She pleaded and I caved. For the wait I spent it at a McDonald's across the street. A breakfast sandwich, a cup of coffee and my iPad kept me entertained until Carrie's lunch break.

My morning was shot. I had a few things I wanted to get done. I've decided to march my hair back in time so I stopped at CVS and picked up a box of Lady Clairol. Yep, I washed the grey right out of my hair.

The husband and the daughter never voiced an opinion when I decided to let it (my hair) grow out. 4 hair cuts later and I was Au naturell.  Days would come and go when I would question whether I was happy with the color. Eventually I came to realize if I had to question it, I didn't need to keep it.

After 15 minutes, the grey was gone. I questioned the husband "So? What do you think about the grey being gone?"

"Well", he said, "it depends on what you are going for."

"And", I questioned, "what does that mean?"

"Well, if you're going for 'old' you could have kept it grey." he said.

My hubby, the coward, never voiced his opinion during the year I had worked on getting it to nature's color. Smart man. The daughter felt the same way but didn't want to say anything either. My best friend since grade school did not have the same hesitation nor did Carrie. Both have been telling me in the nicest way they preferred a color..any color but grey.

Now I'm questioning my husband's usual response when I ask him "Does my butt look big in this?"
Do we really expect them to be truthful when asked that question? Doubtful.

I'm outta here to watch the Arias trial being televised. Another trial much like O.J's, Scott Petersen, and Casey Anthony's. Our justice system in action.

(Note: When I posted this yesterday, there were more paragraphs on it that I now find are missing!...and reconstructing them is almost impossible for me to do. Once written, it's gone to paper never to reappear in my brain again!)

damn you Blogger!

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