I recently bought a hat for myself. Check that, I actually bought 2 hats while I was on my road trip. That may not seem like a big deal to most people but I have never been able to wear hats. I had hip length hair most of my life and hats just never looked good on me even though I longed to wear them.
As you can see by Itzl's concerned look, this group is for us to check in at to let people know we are alive, doing OK, and not affected by such things as heat, blizzards, floods, wild fires, hurricanes, tornadoes, power outages, or other such things that could keep us off DKos. It's also so we can find other Kossacks nearby for in-person checks when other methods of communication fail - a buddy system. Members come here to check in. If you're not here, or anywhere else on DKos, and there are adverse conditions in your area (floods, heatwaves, hurricanes, etc.), we and your buddy are going to check up on you. If you are going to be away from your computer for a day or a week, let us know here. We care! IAN is a great group to join, and a good place to learn to write diaries. Drop one of us a PM to be added to the Itzl Alert Network anytime! We all share the publishing duties, and we welcome everyone who reads IAN to write diaries for the group! Every member is an editor, so anyone can take a turn when they have something to say, photos and music to share, a cause to promote or news!Monday Crimson Quillfeather
Tuesday ejoanna
Wednesday Pam from Calif
Thursday art ah zen
Friday FloridaSNMOM
Saturday Gwennedd
Sunday loggersbrat
This year, I have short hair. It makes all the difference in the world. Now, I have hats and I wear one of them a lot. My problem is that I am not used to having it and I tend to forget it in various places. That happened to me over the weekend but I was so sick, I didn’t notice it missing until today. I went over and over where I had been but since I had been sick, there were a limited number of places to check. I called and no hat. I was bummed.
When I was a child, my mother would take us to church for Easter, like mothers everywhere in America in 1960. She would push us into the furthest pew in the back just in case she had to make a quick escape with one or another of us. Easter always saw us in shiny new shoes and clothes, me in gloves, my brothers in bow ties. My mother did not wear hats but women had to cover their heads in those days and she wore a lace chaplet. But on Easter, the ladies did parade their hats. As they walked by, each hat more ornate and elaborate than the one before, my youngest brother Tracy, about 3 at the time, became more and more entranced with them. He followed each lady to her seat with his eyes. He began to fidget, never a good sign. One of the hats had birds and feathers, plants and flowers, maybe buildings for all I could tell. His eyes got bigger and bigger and finally he said in that child whisper that can be heard in another city, “My God, look at that hat!” My poor mother almost died and then quietly said to him “God is looking at that hat, be quiet!” and the mass went on.
In thinking about that story, remembering my brother so young and beautiful, I returned to the mystery of my lost hat and wondered if God was looking at it somewhere. Suddenly, I remembered going to Mimi’s for breakfast with my BFF on Saturday, before I got sick. I called them and lo and behold, they had it and I have it now! Hazzah.