Last night I dreamt I was breastfeeding a baby. Yea...I know, right? Why, you may ask, am I spelling "dreamt" like I live in Middle Earth. The answer, I kinda live in Middle Earth.
As I was driving back from La Jolla on Saturday afternoon, the vistas that arose as I drove up the 15 were ridiculously pretty. It occurred to me that they resembled something out of the Hobbit movies. I thought, "Cryin' out loud, I live outside Middle Earth". Cool. Let's just hope I don't get those feet. Yeesh...
Oh, and the baby thing? Beats me.
I attend church with a lady who is so passive-aggressive, she actually makes me laugh. She's quite attractive and appears to be well liked, especially by the youth. I don't understand her hostility towards me. I hope she never knows how much I'm NOT bothered by her, but instead, am rather intrigued by her comments. She says them so only I hear (which is nice of her) and she does this crazy, up and down thing with her eyes when she says something. It's hysterical. Today, her comment/insult was particularly entertaining. Let me set up the picture. I was wearing a dress with an empire waist (gray) with little studs built into the neck line), a raspberry silk skirt with a balloon hem, black cardigan, and black short leggings underneath. I was also wearing a pair of strappy sandals. We walked into Relief Society (the women's group) and she points to me in a vague up and down motion and says, "How do you just DO that". I assumed she meant my clothes. So I just smiled at her and stayed silent (my favorite response) and waited for what was next. Sure enough, she elucidated me with the following, "Those nails. How do you get away with wearing that color? I could never do that!" I was wearing bright red nail polish. Really. That was my crime du jour. I guess the Whore of Babylon wasn't using that particular polish the day I happened upon it and chose it at the salon. Anyway, she looked at me for an explanation and I just smiled and said, "I just do it, that's all". This is my mother's standard response to the countless times she has been asked that same question regarding (typically), her jewelry, "How do you get away with that"? So...I suppose now it's mine, though for what, I'm not certain-goodness knows it not for jewelry...
All right, that's all I've got. Not much, I know. But Sundays are a day of rest and therefore...passive aggressive was the dramatic high point of the day, as well as the comedic. Ciao!