Honey has had her driving privileges pulled again. See her blog for more details. She’s going today to have her EEG done again. I gave her a scarf to wear. We had scarf night last night and I draped all the scarves I could find over my head. In ways that scarves aren’t supposed to go. My mother likes to give me scarves. It makes her feel as if I may one day become the daughter she wanted. I don’t wear them. I put them in a drawer with my socks.
I made my mother very happy when I had along talk with her about various ablutions for the skin. I think she showed me every skin product she had ever purchased. And my mother (like her daughter) is a consumer.
Honey, in fact, pointed out that I should tell my therapist about my tendency to buy things. My therapist suggested that I buy two workbooks some time ago. I promptly bought them. I can’t bring myself to “work” them. Last time we talked about it, my therapist said I should just read them, that I didn’t have to have pen or pencil in hand. Follow through can be a weakness for me. But, boy, do I know how to use and abuse Amazon.
Anyway, back to driving… Driving in L.A. isn’t fun generally. It’s a built in excuse for lateness. “Traffic” followed by a head shake will get you out of most lateness problems. Still, I want to stop driving so much. I’d love to commute by bike, but I’m a person who sweats. Southern women aren’t supposed to sweat. They’re supposed to “glow.” I sweat. So riding a bike to work might be unpleasant in the global warmed SoCal summer.
Speaking of global warming, I heard a piece on NPR yesterday about the rising CO2 levels causing poison ivy to grow more and become more toxic. Tomorrow it’s supposed to by in the 90s and I have to wear my academic regalia for commencement.
Treecup wore anti-perspirant on her face when we got our PhDs.
When I had my prom, my mother handed me a bottle of baby powder and told me to “use it.” When I asked her where to put it, she wouldn’t answer. The answer tomorrow may be all over. Nobody look under my robe, ok?
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