Little thankful: It wasn't my kid

I was in line at the grocery store after work yesterday and heard a small human shrieking and carrying on the next row over. Honestly, I didn't think much of it, because it happens, especially at the end of the day when everyone is tired. The thing that made this one memorable is the teenaged cashier and baggers were standing there smiling and kind of impressed with the level of intensity this kid had achieved. The cashier said, "Man, that kid is MAD!"

And that kid WAS mad. He was having a full-on snotty face, screaming, sweating, boot losing meltdown apparently over one of those little balloons on a stick that says get well. His mom remained calm throughout, which is something I am not sure I could/would have done. As we were exiting the store, I had to stop as she tried to collect kids and clothing items because they were in front of me. She looked at me and all I could do was smile and say, "it happens." And I was so very thankful that mine are big enough that we are past public meltdowns of that caliber.

Little thankful: I was wrong.

Being a woman of a certain age means that I am rarely cold anymore. As a former Girl Scout, I like to be prepared, so I always keep an extra blanket near my bed to grab in the dark if the Universe glitches and I get cold. Last night the temperature outside dropped to single digits and I woke up cold. I removed the cat from my extra blanket and started to snuggle back to sleep, when I realized that I was COLD! My room was COLD! And my furnace was COLD (not running)!

This wasn't a dead people visiting kind of cold, but really cold. As I laid there in the dark, willing myself to get up and call the emergency furnace repair guy, my dragon breathed to life and warm air started blowing through the house. My furnace was not broken! I have never been so happy to be wrong.

Peacock's Ass

Back in the eighties when hair was big and my brain was decidedly teenaged and small, every time I would emerge from the cloud of hairspray that hung like death in the bathroom my dad would exclaim, "Oooh, pretty! Now let's see the peacock's ass."

The first time it happened, I just stood there wondering if he was having a stroke until he explained that peacocks are beautiful when they spread their feathers, but most people have never seen what a peacock's rear end looks like when they make their fabulous display. Imagine how stunned I was that a) my dad was RIGHT about something and b) the back of my hair looked terrible!

I fixed my peacock's ass that day, and every day since. My children have been taught to check their own peacock's ass because, you know, great wisdom must be shared. Due to something that happened at work today, I feel it is time to let the guys in on the big secret.

I was walking down the hall behind a male colleague, and noticed that his hair made him resemble a Royal penguin.

I have no idea what the front looked like, but we warned. Guys need to check their peacock's asses too.