The other day I needed some essential ingredient for the delicious healthy supper I was making for my hardworking man. I dusted off my work clothes and walked 2 blocks to our little grocery store. It was after 5 and full of working men in their grungy FR's (fire retardant clothing) picking up pizzas and ice cream for their suppers.
I had to stand in line! The locals say they never had to stand in line before we (the oil field) came.
A magazine caught my eye. Actually, the featured article caught my eye - DIY Diva. DIY Diva? There she stood in all her glory - young, tan, fit, wearing layered contrast color tank tops and holding the latest greatest meanest cleanest power tool. (I know - bad sentence)
And there I stood looking back at her - wearing my dusty gimme cap, Salvation Army man's shirt and elastic waist pants with decorator specks, swipes, and finger prints in bar harbor beige, brandy cream and smouldering red - in all my glory.
I asked myself -
What is wrong with this picture?