Friday, February 29, 2008
I feel better.
I missed you yesterday but you didn't want to hear from me. I was one big ill pill. I was glad to go to work, hoping that my clients would cheer me up. (Aren't I a gem, putting that unasked responsibility on them?)
You'll be relieved to know (and you too, bear, sir) that I feel back to my perky self today. I don't know what THAT was about. There was no real reason to spark that grumpy attack that lasted pretty much all day long.
Well now, back to our regularly scheduled programming which will include me running around like a chicken with it's head chopped off doing errands and creating new and urgent errands that MUST be done before this big trip. Like I've suddenly decided that I need a new tote that will be useful for carrying gloves and scarves when not in use along with snacks and other stowed items that might be needed. Never mind that I have just the thing in my closet. It is rendered useless by the big splashy cabbage roses on a baby blue background that make it look like a pair of pajamas. I just can't envision my suave self in chic black wool coat, huddled under my new green cloche hat, with a cabbage rose pajama bag hanging from my shoulder. However, if I don't find what I need, I very well may lower myself to stylistically challenged standards. (Ack! My breathing quickens as I consider that.)
Where is the line drawn between having a cavalier sense of fashion that in itself becomes chic and just being an embarrassment to yourself as well as the rest of the world?
Maybe my journey will begin to unlock some of these questions that will have such an impact on generations to come.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Fortunately, I have nothing to worry about.
Chicago is coming. (Depending on your perspective, I guess.) I would love to go exploring in some of the offbeat, hole in the wall stores. You know, like consignment stores, vintage stores. indy stores. All the cool stuff they show you in magazines. I have no clue as to how to find them other than stumble across them.
I'm a blithering idiot today with nothing really to say.
There must be a blue moon tonight.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
It wasn't us. I just wanted to quell your curiosity. I know the minute you heard about it, you were wondering.
No, I'm the same unassuming girl you read over the weekend. Unchanged by a windfall of millions suddenly appearing in my lap.
I've felt alternately happy and sorry for these people. (I don't know them.)
It must be surreal to wake up "the day after" in your same humble surroundings knowing that you are a millionaire but having nothing to show for it but a little slip of paper. Life changed...but not. Yet.
But, can you imagine how overwhelming it is? Suddenly, the world is on your doorstep asking how it feels to be a millionaire. I bet "friends" are coming out of the woodwork. Charities calling to offer their "congratulations and consider us when you give". I would wonder when going out to eat with people if they would always expect to be treated to a meal now because, "after all, you certainly can afford it."
I'm scared for them that after living paycheck to paycheck, they'll think they now have an endless supply of money. Let's face it, we tend to spend what we have.
"'We're not gonna change,' she said wearing flip-flops and warm-up pants. 'I'm too country.'"
You already have, honey.
You already have.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Cats snuggled in? Check.
It must be time to write my post.
Friday was blissful in many regards. My facial and microdermabrasion was a wonderfully relaxing time. It was also research and development for S. who is doing them for the salon. I've never had microderm before. I was slightly nervous. It was bearable. It felt as though she was rolling a ball with sandpaper on it across my face. It was actually a tube that blew and vacuumed crystals at the same time. Working in sections, she went across each section three times, each time going across in a different pattern. (Across, down, diagonal.) My cheeks were the most tender, so she turned down the intensity. It was really fascinating to me. Although I could tell my skin felt a lot smoother, I'm going to do a package of 5, or so, to see maximum results. (This is one of the perks of my job. Otherwise, this would probably be out of my price range or I simply would not spend the money on this, preferring to spend it on, oh paint, maybe.)
Her facial was soothing and relaxing. I melted into the table. She did it after the microderm. The worst part was, after the microderm, my skin was tender (especially my cheek area) and the pads that she used for wiping product off my face began to feel very rough and irritating. Since she is my employee, I was able to tell her all the picky things I noticed like: it would have been nice to have a rolled towel under my neck for support, the music was a little too loud, the lights could have been dimmed a touch more...More importantly, I told her that it was very relaxing and she has the most soothing touch. She is going to do well with this, I can tell.
I went directly from the salon to get my massage, this time with reflexology. Let's face it, I just wanted someone to rub my feet. I don't know if it made a huge difference, but it did feel good. I could feel that one foot was tighter than the other and she said the tightness correlated with my shoulder area which made sense. Once she started the massage, I think I dozed off a few times. I've never been that relaxed for her massage before. Especially since it's usually more like physical therapy and a good bit of it hurts. (But it always makes it so much better.) Couple my pampering events with a steady rain outside and you have a recipe for a well done "noodle".
I also decided to get some movies "just for me". Interestingly enough, hubby's been watching them with me this weekend. We've seen Little Miss Sunshine and Art School Confidential. There was a good bit of coarse swearing in both of them and a little bit of nudity in the second one (duh, art school models). I still have left to watch: the Devil Wears Prada. I don't know when I'll be able to watch that now that the week is back in full swing.
Chicago is waiting for me at the end of the week. I'm looking forward to going but a little apprehensive about the weather. Will it be too cold to bear? I'm a warm blooded creature. I'm planning to be conservative with my spending, there's nothing I need to speak of. And, since I don't have a lot to spend, that works out.
Speaking of spending, we officially have a leak in the bedroom now. The roof is becoming insistent that we do something about it. Nice.
Other than that, life's just peachy. I made a list of things I wanted to accomplish over the weekend and did almost all of them. The largest item being: cleaning out the refrigerator. I've put it off so long it was embarrassing and shameful. But! Now it's DONE and it looks like I have a new fridge!!
I think making a list works for me because I feel the weight of my responsibility and the need to get it done. If it's just in my head, I can pretend it's not there and play my procrastinating mind games. If it's written down, my first-born sense of responsibility kicks in and I get it done.
Harumph. Yea first-borns.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
I came across one of my high school yearbooks and turned and asked my girl, "Hey wanna see a picture of mommy?"
She replies, "Uuuhh, no."
Walks out the door with her Sit and Spin.
Humbling. Very humbling.
Friday, February 22, 2008
I felt I'd been hit by a Mack truck when I woke up this morning (earlier than planned, thanks to the obnoxiously loving cat.)
I'm groggy, my eyelids are heavy. I looked like a drunk bouncing off the walls as traversed the hall to the kitchen.
I really want to get to the salon an hour early today so I can take care of the bookwork, have that out of the way and then start MY festivities. Once I do my facial and massage, I really don't want to come back and try to sort bank accounts.
I'm going to the video store and find a movie (or two) that I really want to watch. I'm choosing and not going to wonder if hubby would like this or not. (Man, I am on a selfish ROLL!)
I'm making a list of things I want to accomplish this weekend. I'm good at making lists...it's accomplishing what's on that list that I have a hard time with. Harumph.
Ahem. As I read over this post, I'm going to try to think of others more than myself.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Beautiful, blissful, freeing relief.
That's what Ifelt last night as I left work later than usual (or not, depending on how you look at it).
Remember the client that got her hair/extentions cut by someone else and was unhappy? Here's the background:
One stylist in our salon does extentions, having gone to a special class to learn to do so.
Extentions in the hair is a compeltely new ball of wax. You don't cut that the same way you would a typical head of hair because it could gap easily.
My client got extentions. Loved them. She's trying to let her hair grow from a short cut and this is a way to help and have some instant gratification. She liked it so much, this was her second go around with extentions.
Extentions are not cheap. (Well, they can be, but you don't want those. That would be a "weave" and a bad one at that.) First, you purchase the hair (100% human hair). That's about $350.00. Then you pay our highly trained stylist to install them on your head at $100.00 an hour. A full head of extentions can take 7-8 hours. Yeah.
Miss Priss (and she is) has done this twice. The first time around, she had me trim her up at one point. Which I did with great fear and trembling. And moaning. "I don't know what I'm doing!" But I did it. Carefully. It worked. She loved it. Great.
This time, Miss Priss was a little impetuous. Wanted a hair cut. Today. (Friday) I don't work on Friday. "Do you think so and so can do it?" Of course. I'll tell her what I did. It will be fine. And it was. But not. Technically, there was nothing wrong with the haircut, it was just layered more than I had done and a little shorter and now, it didn't pull up like she wanted. There were "pokey ends" sticking out of her ponytail now. It wasn't smooth like when I had done it. It's too short.
AND...It's her daughter's 1st birthday and she was going to do a mother/daughter portrait and now her hair was awful. What can we do to fix this?
We considered adding extentions, for thickness,but would she have to pay to have those put in? Would that even work? Not fair to that stylist not to get paid. Not fair to the client to have to pay to get more when it was done right the first time, now it's just too thin. Should the stylist who cut it pay for it? Do we cut it? What's the point in having extentions just to cut them all off?
At one point Miss Priss (who has been a longtime client and turned into a friend) said she just wanted to take them out, have me cut a short little bob and then go somewhere else and start over because she felt there would be a strain in everyone''s feelings from now on.
I didn't make the mistake, but I'll be the one hurt when my income walks out the door. Thanks.
I fretted all day long.
Maybe if Iwere shown me how to do it, I could do it. And if the salon would pay for the extentions...
Miss Priss called later in the day and said, let's just cut it short and see what happens. I was afraid the extentions would be short and stubby and it wouldn't look good. "Well, then we'll take them out. I just can't stand it like it is."
You think I prayed on the side of the road in Florida? I beseeched and pleaded this go round.
I cut it, again moaning about not knowing what I was doing (that's what happens if you're my friend AND client. If you're just a client, I skip the moaning--it's not so professional.) I cut. She told me to cut it some more. I cringed, but did it.
IT WAS PRECIOUS. PRECIOUS!
She didn't like it, she loved it.
The doxology was playing in my head to beat the band. (Or maybe that was the band beating it out in my head.)
It was such a relief for that burden of concern to roll off my mind. I felt redeemed! Recently, it has seemed like there's been some issue of someone being unhappy about something . Or maybe, it's just something I've noticed, a little color bled here, a little too much red there. Something! It's kinda been wearing on me.
I find it so important, psychologically speaking (for myself) that if things are discouraging me, my self-confidence is strengthened knowing when I did something well.
I spell that: R-E-L-I-E-F!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
It's not that life is bad, per se, it can just suck the, well, life out of me sometimes.
I enjoyed my trip home, but that was a long trip, and when you factor in our adventures it was kind of tiring.
I have a client who decided she couldn't wait to get her hair cut so she let one of our other stylists do it and now she's unhappy. Complicate that by the fact that she just spent about a thousand dollars with us to get extentions and now....what do I do about that?
We had a hairshow at the salon last night with just under 50 sorority girls in attendance. It went well, but it took a lot of energy to talk to them ( I was the moderator). We were there late-ish but I think it was successful. But it took a lot out of me after working and dealing with the above situation.
One of the cats scratched baby girl yesterday--twice. Yes, she's been aggravating the cat, but stil...Hubby doesn't care for the cats anyway and struggles between loving them (mostly because I love them) and wanting to throw them against the wall (or at the least, out in the yard.)
When I got home last night, feeling rather poor in spirit, it cheered me to have gotten a couple of new books in the mail and to find the latest Domino magazine on the counter. Getting a big hug from my favorite 4 year old helped matters immensely.
But the thing that is bouying me immediately is looking forward to this weekend. I'm in between trips and purposely didn't plan anything. Oh, except a massage (with reflexology this time--I've never done that before--kinda curious) and our salon is now offering facials and microdermabrasion (the latter I've never done before either) so I'm going to give our skin care specialist some practice. Poor me.
Having this to look forward to is helping to give me the stamina to push through these rough spots in my road.
What are you looking forward to?
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
So, you're probably trying to figure out these non-descript pictures.
It's a continuation of sorts of my pics from Florida.
I saw these guinea fowl on the side of the road.
What was I doing on the side of the road you ask?
We've been meaning to take the car in for a checkup because it's been riding a little rough like it was out of alignment. Time ran away and we forgot to take it in. As we started home, I told hubby the ride seemed rougher. He had me pull over and he got out and looked at everything while I rollled the car slowly forward. He kicked the tires and said they looked sound, it might be a shock absorber that went bad-take it easy.
So I did. I carefully observed the speed limit (and thought about why we don't and still call ourselves law-abiding citizens). About 5 miles later there was a loud pow! and we both knew we'd blown a tire. (That's what that unevenness was--a bubble!)
The car didn't jerk. Nobody jumped or screamed. I wasn't scared. I just slowed down with out really putting on brakes and we found a driveway in front of a business that was closed for the day. Hubby hopped out and knew exaclty what to do, especially since he had just done this on the side of the road in Atlanta a few weeks ago.
My girl is hanging out the window looking at the boo boo on the tire. I pay attention as I help hubby with jack and lug nuts. We have the tire changed in no time only to discover....
the spare is flat.
I'm thinking, "let's just slowly ride back into town and fill it with air." Hubby doesn't go for that, preferring to rummage around throught the luggage looking for non-existent air pumps and cans of fix-a-flat.
I wandered about taking picutres of guinea fowl (but NOT blown out tires) and prayed: "God, it would be nice if you would send somebody by with an airpump." Unbeknownst to me hubby was praying a similar prayer and not to long after a small pickup pulls over and two lanky scraggly men hop out. "Ya'll need some help?" "Pops" and Ron (father and son duo) became our redneck angels. Ron helped hubby get the spare off the car, they jumped in the truck together and hauled it off to their house and blessed air compresser a quarter of a mile away. Baby girl and I battened down the hatches and I did the only thing I knew to do in a time like this: I called my momma. She kept me company over the phone until the guys got back, laughing at my recounting of the event.
The guys came rolling back up int their battered chariot and hubby gets out and says, " our comedy of errors gets more complicated--they've just run out of gas!" After unsuccessful attempts to siphon gas out of our car, we grab their gas can and dash back to town on our light-as-air tire.
I was so glad that we could so immediately be of help to them and so glad that they were promted to stop and help.
Never hesitate to ask (God) for help. Sometimes we have not because we ask not.
Monday, February 18, 2008
These shots are completely random. I'll try to narrate the best that I can while dealing with blogger's stubborn ways.
Grammy needed her hair rolled so I tried to give KeeBee some tips...
Ah... this is the life...
Some of the neighbors are a little "nosey".
Monkey see, Monkey do...
I went all the way to Florida to take cats to the vet...
Training up an aunt right...
Second generation tree climber. Performing for Gigi....
My beautiful grandma...
Cement pond fisherman/boy.
My favorite tree in the world at Grandpa's old house.
The low limb on the ground used to make a wonderful "swing".
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Home to momma. And daddy, sister, brother-in-law, niece and grandma.
It used to be: "When are you coming to see me, my girl?" Now it's, "When are are you bringing our girl of to see me?"
I don't mind.
Really I don't.
After a week of hurry, scurry and complicated color jobs, (there was another yesterday that I "worked in" in 4 hours. Yeah.) makeup parties and everyday business, I find myself reminiscing for my simplistic childhood a little bit.
I grew up in a small town in the middle of sandy Florida. I'm sure the word "Florida" immediately brings to mind idyllic sandy shores and oceans, and a pool in every back yard. I, however, was in the heart of Florida, land locked on every side. The closest access to water was the river down the road a piece. My dad grew up swimming in that river, but by the time I grew up, he said it was a place druggies hung out, so I rarely saw the river.
We lived on a slight rise in the otherwise flat land. A sand hill with a few pine trees and a huge oak tree with branches that bowed to the ground in places reaching out her arms to me inviting me to climb. There were pastures on two sides and a big sandy area on one side of the house that my sister and I played in constantly. It was the biggest sand box EVER!
We lived in a concrete block house. A small, very humble affair but some of my first and favorite memories are there. There was a huge hibiscus bush outside my parent's window. The curtains framing their window were two beach towels with old cars like Model T's on them. I loved the colors and loved looking at them. My window (right by my bed) looked out to a few pine trees and the neighbor's down the hill. I remember the bathroom tub having studs exposed around it (which wasn't weird to me at the time, as I knew no difference) and occasionally a spider would make an appearance on the side of the tub. A big spider with long legs. Daddy responded to our shrieks with, "Aaww, that's just Charlie, he's probably thirsty and wants a drink." Do you know, we would put drops of water in the corner of the tub and sometimes he drank it?! Daddy appealed to our curiousity and played down our fears and to this day I am fascinated with nature and science. Come to think of it, daddy was too, I remember thumbing through his Popular Mechanic magazines.
My daddy was a printer, a mechanic and a tinkerer. Which means he was always tinkering with something. My daddy is an overcomer. He was born with some joint deformities and as a result is just under 5 feet tall and has always walked with a pronouced rocking gait. He needed hip replacement at one point and the doctor told him he would never ride a bike or walk stairs. After he healed, he rode a bike to work everyday to his print shop in town (a ten minute drive by car).
Momma is...momma. She is not the stereotypical mom. She really has no hobbies except reading. She cooked basic meals to feed us. She took care of her parents and her in-laws. Of course, they took care of us as well. Later, I found out grandma kept me in shoes for school over the years. Mom's very matter of fact. If we were out shopping and I wanted something and began asking for it, usually she would say no, when I whined why? I want it!, she would calmly respond "we can't afford it." End of discussion.
In discipline, she and daddy were consistent. They meant what they said. There's a lot of momma in me. If I say no, I mean no. But I think I'm less rigid with my expectations of my girl as I try to allow her natural personality to express itself. I try not to squelch that while at the same time grooming good behavior. My physical expression of love is similar too. My parents have always been affectionate to me; daddy letting me sit on his lap long after I outgrew it and momma's "love paddlings" (that's where during the course of a hug, she reaches down and swats my bottom two or three times.) I give my girl love paddlings now. I can't help it.
Sometimes I look at my sister and myself and wonder if our parents are wondering if they indeed birthed these two slightly offbeat girls. My sister had her walk on the wild side for awhile getting into all sorts of stuff that included the tattooing and piercings. We are both artists and love to express ourselves creatively on canvas, in hair and all sorts of other ways. I have always been the "safe, conservative" one. You wouldn't know it to look at me now because my style (and I) has(have) evolved over the years. I've reached a bohemian-rock-hippy point now with crazy hair that has bright crayola red on top with a darker brown red on bottom. I think of it as a punk Joan Jett.
I'm not really sure what exactly makes me who I am, but it's fun learning myself as the years crawl/fly by. It seems there is a new (to me) facet of myself that I uncover every now and again. Becoming more confident in myself and expressing that.
It's a good life I've lived.
What more could a girl ask for?
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
She came in last night for color and wanted to change it up to more of a honey-ish blonde a la Jennifer Anniston like. She's naturally a dark brown and first, I had to figure out how to logistically do this for her and keep the process manageable for her financially and for both of us time wise.
Did I mention we were having another make-up party last night?
D's appointment was at 4:30 pm, my appointment book said I got off at 6 pm. No. After hashing out what we wanted and how to do it, then cutting a haircut that was waiting, I started her when I was supposed to be finishing her.
Technically, I was supposed to have a small part in the makeup party, talking about the makeup. An overview if you will.
Fortunately, they didn't need me THAT badly and someone else did it. They need the practice anyway.
I got D's color on and got out of my space so they could clean and spread the makeup to kingdom come so everyone could mess and gom in that.:)
After D processed, I rinsed her just as the party started and we went to another more private room where I cut her hair and styled it.
I think it turned out well. The hardest part that I was concerned about was lifting that dark hair and having no red undertones. I discovered an additive in our color line called "anti-red" that I added to my formula and it worked like a charm! I was sooo excited. I have another client I'm going to use it on. I've been looking for 20 years for something to neutralize red undertones when lifting hair.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
This is where the magic happens everyday.
If you look closely, you'll see one of my paintings hanging in the window for Valentine's.
I wasn't here over the weekend. For a change.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
I was going to sleep in until at least 6:30, then get up and work out at home. Weeeellll. I have a cat. Actually, I have three cats, but just one was obnoxiously annoying this morning (as opposed to 2 or 3 annoying cats in the wee hours of the morning.).
Aside from the fact that my bladder was waking me up and I would studiously ignore the urge and doze off again, I had a cat walking across my bladder. She would perch on my shoulder. Then she would pitty-pat on my shoulder with just enough claw action so you Icould feel it. I'd shove her off and she would come running back, this time to scratch on the sheets. I knew what she wanted. "MOM! COME FEED MEEE-owNOW!
Why must I be all things to all people?
Even the cats?
Tired of fighting cats and bladders, I decided it would be less work to just get up and start the day. After tending to business, (bladder first, cat second) I looked to attend to the next urgent matter of business: coffee. For some reason, I walked to my back door, (not sure why I stopped off there, it had nothing to do with the coffee pot) where I discovered a note to myself from yesterday reminding me to get gas and coffee. Well, I remembered the gas, or I would have never made it to work. The coffee however.... well, it's urgency got lost in work, employee lunch meetings and a scurry to vote after work before the polls closed.
Until this morning. When I went to the back door and it all came flooding back. I was ready for coffee and had none. What a tragedy! So I did the equivalant of going to Columbia and handpicking my coffee and roasting it: I drove across town to the only 24 hour store (that I know of) in town -Wal-Mart. Grrr. I really make it a point not to go into Wal-Mart for a lot of different reasons, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
It just goes to show what lengths people will go to get a fix for their addiction.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
In brighter news, (for me, anyway) I learned yesterday that there is a POSSIBILITY that I will get to see Stomp and George Winston next year at a local venue. One of my clients just got back from NY where she visited a conference (?) that is made up of representatives of performers and she basically shops performers to see if she can secure a performance in her venue. (Cool perk of her job, dontchathink?)
I'm thrilled with the anticipation of it all!
Talking about George Winston yesterday took me back to my college days where I was introduced to George Wintston by wren. (My best friend-I met her at college where we became roomates and began a friendship that lasts today.) Now, I don't know if I've told you before, but I grew up in a bubble. I was very sheltered as a child and therefore, I pretty much missed a decade in there somewhere. Enter wren, who broadened my cultural (at least musically) scope, introducing me to the likes of Geaorge Winston, Chicago, Air Supply and Barry Manilow. (God Bless her.)
So, if I get to go see George Winston in concert, I will thank my friend wren, and commit every note to memory to relay to her in a 2 hour conversation that is sure to follow.
O.K., I hate to leave you, but I gotta go get more coffee.
Gotta lube those joints, dontchaknow.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
It's called rethreading the car seat after pulling off the cloth cover and pulling out straps, then asking hubby to help re-install it into the car.
When I went looking for something in the car, I found the car seat installed in the car as if ready for a trip. Uh-oh, what's this? Loose straps unattached to anything and extra pieces essential to buckling lying beside the car seat.
Call me crazy, but I don't think our girl should ride in the car seat under these unfinished conditions.
I begin undoing the straps again, unsure of how they are supposed to be, but knowing the current configuration is wrong!
Of course, I can't find the instructions which would make this, if not quicker, perhaps make a whole lot more sense. I finally find instructions for her first (original!) car seat and begin pulling together the gaps till I finally figure out the puzzle.
As I'm threading and pulling and pushing, I'm wondering if it wouldn't be faster if I just went and bought a whole new car seat. She's almost due for the booster anyway.
Wha...? Shoot, I missed a link that let's you tighten and loosen the straps. Now I have to unthread that piece and slip it through that metal piece and rethread it. All goes well, except that last little spot at the front of the chair where it kinda weaves in and out practically on itself it's so tight.
Just this last. little. slot...
After using the strap threader (didn't work), my fingers (to fat), hubby walks by and throws me a flat head screw driver. After fiddling, rearranging my position and holding my mouth just.so., along with some very sincere praying (if I tell you I'm going to Africa to be a missionary you won't be surprised now), I FINALLY got that double stiched strap through that slender slot. I let out a rebel yell that probably startled the dogs on the next street, but I was done!
I'm going to start hiring myself out to high schools to speak to the teenagers. I am fully convinced that if their sex ed included assembling a car seat from scratch...
teen pregnancy would go down 100%!
Just an idea...
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Maybe that mom is an hour from home taking a quick trip to the "big" town to visit Barnes and Noble and catch a sale for paint and canvas at the craft store. Maybe as she left Barnes and Noble she was wondering why her daughter was a little whinier than usual. Maybe she strapped her into her car seat thinking she would fall asleep almost immediately on the way to the craft store.
Maybe she was wrong.
Perhaps as they left the parking lot, her little girl asked for water. Maybe after sipping on it, she gave a little cough-ey gag that the mom recognized and immediately whipped the car into a business parking lot stopping in the driveway looking intently in the rear view mirror at her child, and after a moments hesitation, pulled forward into a parking space. Maybe that was a moment too long. Maybe as she reached for the door handle it was already too late and the car seat along with the girl's dress were now covered in the stomach's rejected contents.
Maybe that disparate outfit was the result after a frantic and desperate search through the papers and crumbs of the car to clothe her child.
Maybe she was incredibly grateful for that random white shirt with red and blue accent flowers -- even if it didn't exactly match the plum colored pants with golden flowers.
Just have compassion on that mom.
Tomorrow, it could be you.