I'm standing in line at the coffee shop doing what 99.9% of us do, people watch. Sunglasses in place so I don't get busted because man! I hate that. ( hence sunglasses. A people watcher's necessary and #1 tool.)
My gaze is jumping from here to there as if in a race to find the most interesting sight first. I have mastered this sport, now if I can master the iPhone camera without getting caught damn it.
My sight falls upon the back of your head. Suweet muther, honey. It's called a brush? Well ok, so you've heard of one but you missed the all important spot.
The crown.
I can't stop staring, it's as fascinating as it is almost repulsive. It's been a while since your last hair wash, I see? The strands are well separated and well . . oiled. It is badly coloured or should I say you are in a dire need of one.
I can't comprehend how you are not aware, I want so badly tell you. I'm embarrassed for you.
My fingers automatically go to the start of my hairline above my forehead and viciously I rake my hair overtop my head and down my crown. I'm trying to straighten it out for you using my own head, it's not working damn it.
Bed head, Ladies. Take heed, it is not a pretty thing.
Speaking of bed. . things. At the risk of repeating myself, don't wear PJ bottoms out at any time in any situation in any public place. Especially if they look slept in which, clearly, this guy's did. Creases at the back of the knees, rumpled at the hems, a couple of unidentifiable stains here and there.
Ew, just a big gross EW. Where's your pride man?!?
Do you think if you have parked next to me and you've the need to schooch down and under as to not bean your dumb ass face by our mirrors, you've perhaps parked a smidgen too close? Just maybe?
It would make it worthwhile to see you get knocked on your ass by my mirror or yours ( Hey, I'm not fussy) but judging by the smoothness of your move, you've done this a time or twenty.
I think I have possibly come across the next generation of Dragon's Den. A couple of streets over from me there is this work crew rebuilding the sidewalk the whole length of the street on both sides, it's quite the organized chaos. There are many many of them there, all identifiable by the bright orange vests. From an arial view, it would look like a small colony of ants busily working away.
About half way to 3/4s way up in sits a table in a driveway selling hot dogs and home made lemonade, maned by three kids.The line of workers, at lunchtime, extends down the driveway spilling onto the newly poured and hardened sidewalk.
Location. Location. Location.
Smart kids, flat out.
While I understand the instant gratification of transplanting readily grown flowers and plant life, I have to say there is something deeply satisfying about growing something from seed. To go out each morning and finally see that wee little seedling fighting to break out of that layer of soil just makes one's eyes light up with pleasure. Yes it is a personal choice, I don't condone anyone else's but I have to say I much prefer this type of satisfaction. And judging by everyone else's fronts and backs in the neighbourhood, I'm one of the few who does.
Speaking of lawns, there's a guy up the street and he, I swear, is out to have the.perfect.lawn. Every day he's out there spraying unnatural. . crap to rid his every blade of grass from unwelcome neighbours, the dreaded weeds and dandelions.( he's also the dude that doesn't take down his xmas decorations till freakin' May and shovels half the sidewalk length wise in the winter. Wtf? ) Don't get me wrong, yeah it's pretty to look at, he's got every pot and flower meticulously placed and it's almost magazine worthy. (I give his land a very wide berth when I walk the mutts )
Call me lazy or just call me a country girl but perfection like that makes me uncomfortable. I don't see the enjoyment in perfection, I see obsession. Give me a meadow with wild flowers any time and I'm in as close to perfection as it gets.
As nature intended.
I'll leave you with this last one.
Do you think when I get waved at in recognition by the guy that works at the wine store when I'm in the jeep in the parking lot it's time for me to find a new wine establishment? That I go there way to regularly?
I laughed when he did that and these were a few thoughts that ran through my head. . .
What about you, my bloggy pals, what are your musings of the day?
