When I was little my dentist was Dr. Kanar. He was a really nice guy, but man, oh man did he have a lot of nose hair. It was like staring up the schnoz of a wild boar. And then we moved on to Dr. Feldman the orthodontist, and it was the same damn thing. You'd think that people who spend all their time around whirring drills and do-dads for tidying up one facial crevice might put some time into trimming the honker-hedges. Especially considering the angle.
Dr. Kanar had a treasure chest outside of his exam room, and after you were all scrubbed and squeaky-toothed, you could choose from the many spider rings, whirly tops and superballs offered therein. None of these prizes, taken out of the chest and home, seemed worth two hoots, but there in the chest all mixed together, they were a dazzling display. This is what I'm hoping will happen with this post. I really have nothing significant to tell you, but I have a few little sparkly bits and pieces that might work as a cluster. Take the above photo, for instance. This is not a good photo. However, my camera battery is dead and the charger is still on vacation in Key West. There are the shoes I bought to replace Iphigenia and her twin. And there is some photographic evidence that I can crochet! Thanks to all who gave advice and attagirls.
Now, I'm no libertarian. I like the fact that we're told we have to wear seatbelts. I don't want some human projectile landing on my windshield, thankyouverymuch. But some signs just aren't necessary. Take this one, posted at the Nags Head Food Lion: "As a courtesy to our other patrons, please remember to leave your shopping cart on the premises."
HIM: "Honey, I'm home! I got those organic Wheat Thins you like!"
HER: "Dammit, Ray, you done it again!"
HIM: (Re-lashing cart to roof of car.) "When will I ever learn?"
For my third trick, a scene from the Nags Head K-Mart, where I went in search of beach toys for the Biscuit.
WOMAN: (Approaches Seagram's wine cooler display and lifts a bottle of hot pink something to the light.) Ooooh, loouhk. Strawwwwwberry daquiri.
TEENAGED SON: Mawmaw, you do nowt need to be buyin' alc-uh-hawl.
WOMAN: (Delivers resounding slap to son's arm) Shut uhhp!
...(Knitter stares at magazine rack, tries to stay detached from scene, which continues down aisle.)
WOMAN: Shuuuuut uhp! Shut UP!
TEENAGED SON: Ooow!
(Knitter notes titles for sale at rack: Pregnancy for Dummies. Living Longer for Dummies. Mentally slaps self for unkind thoughts. Ooow.)