Today was full of surprises - self-made and life-made. The day began with a last-minute decision to renew my driver's license this morning. Although I had mentally planned to put it on a to-do list for next week, I awakened this morning, looked at my errand list, and thought it would be a good use of Suburban-sucking gas to add a local stop in a predetermined area loop. As I readied myself, I found my hands taking extraordinary care in my appearance. While I've depended on a summer tan to mask uneven skin tones and other skin anomalies, with my rapidly disappearing tan, I reached for a bottle of foundation. "What is this?", I thought. Then when I began rifling through my make-up bag for mascara, I knew I was over-the-top in my desire to fool that ugly little Secretary of State camera that makes one look like a fugitive from justice who has just been apprehended. The care I took with my face was surprise enough but when I grabbed my curling iron and plugged it in. "What has the world come to?", thought I to myself.
I then turned yet another page in my book of surprises and gave careful thought to what I would wear, knowing full well that the wicked take-no-prisoners-Secretary-of-State-camera-capable-of-only-taking-mug-shot pictures would capture my image only from the neck up. "But,", thought I to myself, "I must make my self look ten years younger and ten pounds smaller. This is one camera that has never heard the sentence, "images appear smaller than they really are". Flipping through the hangers, my eyes settled on my "skinny" jeans. Remember those? I wrote about them months ago. After I selected the sweater and top that I would add to the ensemble, I began carefully dressing myself. I got my jeans on, followed by the sleeveless sweater-top and sweater then looked in the mirror, satisfied with the illusion that I had created. As I took my hands to smooth the back of my sweater down my backside, I felt a large lump at the base of my left derriere. Alarmed, I felt it again, fearing the worst, as if some dreadful tumor had grown overnight and attached itself to my rear. Taking the time to investigate, you might imagine my relief at finding a missing bulky Smartwool sock that had stuck to the inside of the denim from the drying cycle. I had a good laugh at the good fortune of not having a tumor on me bum.
Surprises. They come when you least expect them.
Ancora imparo
Ancora imparo
