Warning. This is a girl post.
And it's mine.
To those who write really long comments, I don't read them.
I'd say I can't but it's not entirely true.
I'm grateful to everyone for writing in but you long comment folks are hogging someone else's attention.
Is that bitchy?
Maybe to the ones who need to read it.
To the rest of you? I meant it: The pearls you roll across the really really big place of this globe actually find me and so many of them make me think, comfort me during loss, encourage me and you know who you are. I hope. I do believe in the alchemy of distant mattering. Thank you.
Now. About today's insipid yet joyful post.
2). BOO yaaaaa
Happiness just walked right up and pinched me on the fanny. Like this:
Oh yeah, about the picture. Yeah, the light. Oh well. Too much or not enough. We'll live...
This pretty frock. Had it for five years - five - and never had the nerve to wear it. And you're welcome: I will happily not join the ranks of chicks who overstay their welcome in the junior department.
Just because it fits doesn't mean it's not a cry for help, y'all. Besides. There's a great line about it in Desiderata.
But today won't you join me and do the great big silly Z-snap, girrrrrl - snap...
After all, it IS most beautiful fabric.
Maybe I could've framed it before now.
Or - and I've done this - even chopped it up for a ex-dress lamp shade.
Instead, this happened and it's the YAYYYYY part:
I put it on.
I danced around.
I loved exactly how it felt and LAWDY MOISEE yes chile how I LOOK.
I haven't walked to the mail box yet but maybe after my neighbors have their cocktail hour I just bloody SHALL.
I can't even see my varicose veins from here anyway - I mean without leaning over or with a mirror. And if I reeeeaally wanted to be an optimist, I'd note that they match the dress.
It's not like my vision isn't great.
Just need specs up close. And I see all the things that weren't there before age happened, all the things that I could get zapped, sucked, buffed or jiggled away. I'm almost sixty and not sure I want that weird look year happens after those things.
So go ON witch yo bad sef.
In the immortal word of Tina Turner: