flashingreds...
i call my baby "toe caps"
(2003-04-02, 5:14 p.m.)
I am wearing fabric toe caps. I daresay you are not. The newest invisible fashion trend, I promise. Why toe caps? Why, to protect your slip-on, closed toe shoes. Shoes too low cut to go with the mid-foot tube. I was so proud. Then there was that dreadful scene as I headed to lunch. I stood outside the car, hoping to casually slip off the right shoe and tug one up (they had to be folded down slightly, so as to remain hidden from sight), when I mistakenly set off the car alarm, errantly hit the trunk release in a frantic attempt to shut off the alarm, and ended up hopping on one foot to close the trunk while scrambling for the right button to stop the noise before anyone noticed.

People noticed. There was applause.

Maybe toe caps aren�t so brilliant. Yep, it�s hard to be so smart and graceful.

Belated birthday gifts continue to roll in. Today I received a package of purple Peeps (to be eaten when mildly stale), sassy sticky notes and a delightful book. Now there�s bedtime reading. Thanks, friends.

What else? Well, the referendum for the school district in which I live and in which several friends teach has failed, which means additional staff cuts, no hope of a renewed contract for Meg, and the elimination of all extra-curricular activities. For a smattering of small towns with little else going for them, this is huge.

That was the depressing news to which I awoke. But as I drove in to town to work, I caught a charming snippet on the radio, our beloved Whip, of course. A trucker from Oklahoma stopped in to say hello and to drop off a gift CD of a little OK band. Since it�s the greatest little radio station in the country, Larry put him on the air and interviewed him, then played a song from the CD. The fellow has a relative serving in Kuwait right now, and he mentioned how some of the troops enjoy tuning in to the station online, which tickled Larry an awful lot. I guess truckers like the station, too. Cute as hell, isn�t it? I was just complaining to Kate yesterday that the fellows of the FarmHouse frat at IL State are advertising on my station, which either means I have lots in common with FarmHouse boys or with old men who dig antique tractors. It�s all too much.