Our future as a country, and as a species, depends on it.
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
This Saturday I'm joining over 16,000 other concerned, activist Coloradans in our state's Capital to march. To show solidarity. Strength. Conviction. To celebrate that we're here, we're organized, and that we are not going to go quietly into hiding to weather out this next administration. We're watching, we're paying attention, and we have our Washington reps' numbers programmed into our phones. Oh, and a friend made this way cool hat for me. It will go nicely with my tshirt that recently arrived in the mail. Meow!
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
I have gone shopping in sweats. I know, you're shocked. But the coughing phase of my cold has set in and I had no Nyquil. In the past the only thing that lets me sleep during the coughing phase is to be deep in a Nyquil coma. So I went to Target in my sweats with a knit hat pulled down over my head. Let's be honest, I would have gone unshowered and in my jammies for the drugs. I believe this is called desperation. One thing I do appreciate about living here is that Target is ten minutes away instead of an hour away. The nice girl at the checkout asked me for my birthdate, you know, for the drugs. I rattled it off between sniffs. She looked a little shocked. I expect with my frightful, mid-cold appearance she expected me to have been born well before the mid-point of the last century. So. I am home. I have taken my cold medicine and am rehydrating with Dasani black cherry sparkling water. I am going to park my arse in my big, comfy chair with a blanket and, probably, a kitty and slip into some sweet Nyquil bliss. Good night.
Monday, January 9, 2017
Saturday, January 7, 2017
When things happen in threes I feel compelled to write about it. On New Year's Eve, my heart was warmed by observing a man confidently holding his wife's fancy evening bag while she was dancing. Earlier this week I was amused by a friend who was minding his wife's purse in a waiting room while she was undergoing a procedure. He was proffered a number of compliments on it while he waited. I happen to think this is a fair trade-off for the numerous times a man asks of his handbag-carrying significant other, can you put this in your purse for me?, when an item does not fit in his pocket. I was remembering a shopping trip with my SIL Pam a number of years ago, we were looking at purses in Dayton's. She had her eye on a cute straw bag with leather details but was undecided about taking it home. I shared with her my practice of test-driving a purse. Meaning that I sling the strap over my shoulder or hang it on my arm and take a walk through the store to see if I bond with it. She liked the idea and laughed. Her indecision was due to the fact that my brother, her husband, Cullen, was not there to offer his opinion on the purse. Since he is often obliged to hold her bag when they are out together, he likes the opportunity to approve its purchase before she buys it. I found this bit of information about my little brother both touching and hilarious. All I have to say is, men, if you love your woman, hold her purse when asked. It makes you appear gracious, confident, and secure in your masculinity. Especially if it's pink.