Last night we went to watch the fireworks from on top of the Terrace Place garage, which is as good a place as any to watch them, especially if you love strange architecture, as the fireworks illuminate the Bell South building in many interesting ways.
One of the guys there said that I had beautiful “Renaissance Hair” and then reached over to stroke it. Yes, an almost total stranger was stroking my hair. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t deck him, which I consider to be a vast improvement in my self-restraint.
I’d still like to learn to kick people in the face, though.
“Renaissance Hair.” I’m not sure what that means. But it explains the small blocks of marble I keep finding on my pillow…
Ha, I think that’s probably funny only to me, but picture, if you will, my hair, which is more Keith Richards than anything else. Now, picture it teeming with tiny DaVincis all busy at work. How is that not hilarious?