Jun 19 2009
What Nobody Nose
Summer is sneaking up once again. I almost forgot, weakened by the oppressive humidity that couldn’t wait for the solstice.
Since the passage of seasons is about me (me! me!), I am reminded that I have not posted one single entry on this site this spring. I must apologize for dissapointing all the folks who have landed here via google search for urine therapy. (You’re not alone pimply people. That’s how everyone winds up here.)
It’s not that I haven’t been writing. I just haven’t been finishing. My quest to pwn WordPress customization has taken precedence. Chances are good that PHP will be the death of me. This must be remedied before Spring bounds out like a lion so I am writing about the first post idea that popped into my head.
Let me put it out there: I have the perfect nose. (My butt may be flat but I’ll always have that.)
I can’t take credit. There are no late night infomercials offering a money back guarantee for "One Week to the Perfect Beak". It’s all in the genes and my Mom, Jeanne, passed down an acute olfactory sense and aesthetically pleasing honker. While I don’t have my nose up in the air (figuratively or literally), this is my (formerly) secret point of vanity.
I have a hard time watching "Brady Bunch" episode where that stupid football came between Marcia and her destiny with the dreamy Doug Simpson.
Is my fear in proportion to the threat? Nope.
My brother bopped me with a laptop desk on my 11th birthday. ("OH! My nose!") I survived (physically) unscathed.
A few years ago I slipped on a patch of ice while helping a boyfriend move and bashed my snoz on a flower pot. I lived to tell the tale.
Will I still automatically duck and cover when seated behind Pesky’s Pole and Ortiz is up at bat? Yup.
Shallow? Yeah.
I’m okay with that. If you need me, I’ll be splashing around in the kiddie pool.
