Cold Feet

No, no, I'm not reluctant to do something, my feet are cold already and I haven't even left for work and the cement slab under thin carpet that freezes my feet year round. I shouldn't be surprised at this, it is January after all, the dead of winter. The sun is trying to poke out of the hazy clouds but thicker clouds are anticipated with a bit of snow as garnish. I've been meaning to contact the editor of the dive club newsletter and bow out of writing for this year but he sent me a very enthusiastic email last week and the pleaser in me kicked in, and this morning in the shower I had an idea for an article lead. $hit. I wanted to back off the "shoulds" this year to see if I could recapture the writer in me and here my traitorous brain has betrayed me. Have any of you read The Story of Edgar Sawtelle? I got it on CD from the library and am listening to it. It's pretty good. I made the mistake of reading Amazon reviews and one of them was a spoiler so I'm kind of bummed about that. Oh, man, look at the time! I've gotta get this posted and get off to work.

January 4--Christian Lacroix, House of Patou, Evening Dress. Meg couldn't get comfortable in her bridesmaid dress. One of the darts or stays or strips of metal that help it in shape was digging into her ribcage. She had no clue how she was to go to the bathroom in the thing either, and she hadn't thought to ask the battle axe of a sales clerk in the bridal shop. At least hers was red, a decent color. Whatever possessed Cece to have her maid of honor in palest pink and then each successive attendant (and there were an even dozen of them) in a darker shade until Meg brought up the rear in scarlet, she did not know. Actually Meg would be first down the aisle so the dresses would pale until the bride came down the aisle in her pure white dress. Meg wondered if anyone would buy into the implication that she was the sluttiest of the attendants because she was in the darkest red? Although she wouldn't mind if one or two of the groom's cute groomsmen paid more attention to her. The dress was a horror with its one long sleeve and one bare shoulder, the lines of eyelets down the left side threaded with black taffeta ribbon tied in the big bow at her hip, and the skirt looked like a red popcorn ball all crumpled and scrunched. At least she had cute shoes, not that anyone would notice.

Gotta go! Bye.
--Barbara