I truly hate it when I don't get any new words down in a day, and the truth is it's been almost a week now. Too much of that time has been spent fighting with software that is supposed to be seamless, and my inability to accept that it isn't… but can you think of anything more boring to talk about in a blog than computers? Me either.
It is definitely spring in most of the country… I can tell by the email and instant messages that I've been getting. I don't mind, really. It's fun to be human in the springtime.
I've been driving convertibles. If it doesn't get hot soon, I'll buy one. I love the feel of the wind in my hair, and the new ones don't even tangle it much. When I was a kid, my parents had two… both Oldsmobiles. One an F88, a tank of a thing, and the other a cute little F 85. (I have no idea if that means anything or not. I only know what the numbers mean for the moment in time that I'm actually listening to a car salesman…. Then I just forget. Not like the numbers are the tax code or a phone number after all.) Whenever we went on a trip, my hair, which I wore waist length at the time, was horribly twisted and tied up. My mother tried to make me wear scarves, ala Grace Kelly, and that just wasn't going to happen
Anyway…. my lease expires in June. I'll be traveling a good portion of the month, so need to decide to buy or turn my car in by the end of May. The question: is it too stereotypically middle age to buy a convertible? Better question, why on earth, when I feel the wind lifting my hair, the sun kissing my shoulders and the connection to the road rumbling all the way to my fingertips, do I care what it seems like?
Ah, spring. Gotta love it.
I'm working on a story that is at best sacrilegious, and at worst just plain kinky. It's sort of fun, too. I was called perverted yesterday. I'm so proud. And that person has never even MET Megg.
1 comment:
In your part of the country, where it's summer 10 months of the year, you'd be crazy NOT to have a convertible.
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