Below is where my freaky mind goes when making random observations.
On April 30th I walked along the creek near our house, and below is what it looked like.
It was one of those days. You know, when things just don’t seem to be going right. I don’t mean that everything was going wrong, really. Physical things actually went pretty smoothly. It was my interactions with humans that took a turn for the worse that day.
I have some random, unrelated thoughts rambling about in my head. They are basically pet peeves. Perhaps I have some form of OCD?
It’s kind of a busy week, so this post will be short and sweet. Well, maybe more savory than sweet.
I have a lot of ideas for blogs that have yet to be drafted. I have notes written on what I want to say, and a few of them are going to require me to dive deep into the expanse of the mind. So, I thought I’d go with a lighter one today.
Next week comes a yearly fund raiser that my dad puts on for his job. However, the event is not the focus of this post, rather, it’s about finding something to wear for this every year. I don’t own a lot of formal clothing. As I dug through my don’t-wear-anymore clothes closet hoping to find the golden outfit, I came across a pretty blouse with shear sleeves. Maybe I could wear it with my skirt. I slipped my arms into the fabric, buttoned it up and looked into the mirror? What’s this? Why do I look like a football player? Oh Lord. Shoulder pads! The shirt surely wasn’t from this century. Had I not been out shopping for dressy clothes for that long?
I do have one dress and one pretty skirt that I could’ve worn, but they were more for a wedding. Plus, I didn’t want to wear open-toed high heels, which is all I have for dresses.
So, I ended up doing something I despise . . . I went clothes shopping. I found a pair of dressy pants to wear. Thankfully, I DO have a twentieth century pretty top to match. However, the new pants needed to be hemmed.
Side note: Every pair of pants I buy needs to be hemmed.
I flicked through a box with different trinkets searching for a safety pin, when retro came calling again. What did I find this time? Stick pins. What the heck. Do I ever throw anything out? Maybe I hoped they would come back into style. It’s been long enough now, and it doesn’t appear that is going to happen. But, as soon as I get rid of them, you know they’ll become the latest trend.
Why not? Hip huggers became low-risers when they returned. Bell bottoms became flare bottoms in the retro rerun. I didn’t save any of those.
I’m waiting for earth shoes. They were comfy. I don’t like the dark-framed glasses from the fifties that are trending again. My shaped face does not fit the style.
Am I the only one who finds these old relics in her house? If I am, please don’t tell me.
Deep thoughts today.
The character, Ava, in my novel, Whit’s End, learns something nefarious about someone she loves that she is forced to face. She either has to remove herself from that person’s life or rework that relationship.
What if I told you that someone you cared about and trusted had committed some ugly, dubious act? Would you believe me? Would you confront the person and get the truth from them? If you did confront them, what if they told you I was lying?