Pictured are my new cheaters. Can you see the copper crystals that match my hair? I bought them when I went to Stein Mart to attend to the Great Pants (Trousers) Fiasco.
Moving into the cheaters phase of my life while I have a face that screams "card me" when I order a drink is so confusing. But I guess that's what mid-life crisis is all about: daydreaming about running off to Monaco with Gus Hansen while wearing your cheaters. Daydreaming about running with the bulls in Pamplona while wearing your cheaters. Daydreaming about running down the Malibu coast with Matthew McConaughey, firm skin--a firm body like you haven't had since you were 12--glistening with the oils you've rubbed on each other mixed with pure sweat... Or daydreaming about running anywhere at all while you're wearing an orthopaedic shoe after your bunion surgery. Yeah, that's middle age.
I picture myself looking up over the edge of these glasses to see the distance and imagine that I look exactly like my father when he imitates my departed grandfather. I'm looking up over my cheaters and seeing my old, decaying self. (Dear friends, remind me not to wear them in front of cute boys.)
In stitching news: I'm in a race with Donna to see who can get the RR in the mail first. Of course, I have a two hour head start being as I'm a "liberal democrat from the east coast." (I say that with a little wink.)