My friend Mara (who would totally leave a comment if Blogger didn't want her firstborn to register. Note to Blogger: Ask for the second!) has suggested that I not wait for awesome to come to me, but to go forth and actively seek out awesome myself.
Which makes me wonder if we've actually met.
Our supposed meeting aside, she suggests that the best way to find awesome (or to be specific, "to add some zip and glamour") is to buy a wig. She even sent me a link because she's terribly helpful:
(And look! I'm finally getting the hang of this website linking thing. Good lord, this is all a lot to take in. And I didn't even ask my kids for help. Maybe some awesome is coming to me?)
I'm pretty sure she's thinking I should go blonde, or perhaps black, but I'm thinking purple. I wonder why it's on sale?
But then, being a recluse, where would I actually wear my wig? Obviously, I'm supposed to go OUT and meet awesome head-on, but mostly I just like to stay at home and maybe read a book out on the deck or in my squashy blue oversized chair with the smashed up cushions from the girls' self-taught kung fu demonstrations. I'm not sure a purple wig would be conducive to reading, what with the wind and the cats and everything.
Which means that Eric and I would have to make an effort to go out. And clearly, we just went out for my birthday (sorry, last time I'll mention it). We've got MONTHS before we have to do THAT again.
And then there's the fact that I'm lazy. How much work does it take to put on a wig when you have a head of hair equivalent to three normal people? And is there wig maintenance to take into account? What if I toss my wig in my closet and it ends up on the floor, smashed by all the other stuff that's "put away" in there? This entire line of thought is stressing me out.
Abby will also totally steal it, and wear it to some seventh grade dance, and start a trend, and then forbid me to wear my own wig 'cause I'll be junking up the trend or something (I can be very embarrassing, apparently, just by standing still next to her). Then I'll be depressed and the reality of my age will crash down around my ears, and I'll have a pre-40 breakdown, and then what?
In conclusion, I'll buy the blue wig instead.
Our song this evening: Michael Penn, "It's No Myth." (And you get a video this time, too. You're welcome.) THIS SONG has nothing to do with wigs, but everything to do with Mara. (Who's Heathcliffitz again?)