I woke up this morning to the sound of my own laughter. I don’t even remember dreaming, so it must have been God tickling me. I lay in bed for a few minutes after that, just listening to the ceiling fan and wiggling my toes.
The other night, I was up late cleaning my house and jamming to the Jackson 5 Christmas CD. Yes, it’s August. Yes, it’s blazing hot. But everyday of my life is like Christmas morning, so what else could I do?
Yesterday, I went to an Indian beauty shop to get waxed. The lovely Indian lady spread warm honeyed wax all over my chin and neck (oh, like you don’t have a few stray hairs), laid a strip of muslin across the top and snatched it off in a waxy flash. Wrick….wrick….wrick….wriicccck. I thought she was done after that, so I started to sit up. She not-so-gently pushed me back down and said, “Oh no, you’re so hairy. Much more to go.” Wrick….wrick….wrick….wriicccck. Wrick….wrick….wrick…. wriicccck. Wrick….wrick….wrick….wriicccck. Wrick….wrick…. wrick….wriicccck. Wriiiiicccck! I’ve decided not to take that personally.
This past weekend, I flew home to visit my Bigmama. It was homecoming Sunday at the old family church. Bigmama wore a white suit with gold embroidery on the jacket and skirt, gold ballerina flats, her gold necklace with the huge diamond pendant, and best of all – a sparkly gold tam on her hair. My chest almost burst open, watching her in that hat, wheeling that big, red Cadillac to church.
So, that’s what I’ve been up to lately. Living through this fabulous and wonderful and chaotic show that is my delighted life.
