Why is it that many of the people who go to health food stores look so bad? After saying this, I must tell you that I am one of those people who goes to health food stores!

I know that many people are there because they are sick and want to be well, so that explains some of it. But, it doesn’t explain miserable, ugly colored outfits, hairy feet and bad hair.

Yesterday I went to a huge health food store down the mountain.

Next to my table, as I ate a healthy lunch, sat an older, tall, skinny lady with a gray and white buzz haircut that made her nose appear to be huge, as if it were standing straight out, sniffing the wind.
I started imagining how beautiful she would appear if she wore her hair longer and softer and got rid of the large greasy poof that was jutting up from her forehead.

This kind of thing drives my hair dresser mad.
Kaycee is a true artist. She can look at a person and know exactly how to cut their hair to make them utterly gorgeous when they have never been gorgeous in their life.

Being an artist myself, I am always looking at people and thinking how to bring out their best qualities.
I mentioned to Kaycee, one day, that if it bothers me to see ugliness, how much more it must disturb her since she knows hair.

“AWWWGH!” was Kaycee’s response. She told me it kills her to see how people could look and she can’t do anything about it.

All my life, I had bad haircuts. Hair dressers always gave me what I call “Dog Head.” There’s something about the way my hair grows that resembles a certain kind of dog. Hair dressers always went with the natural wave and I would leave the shop all perfumed and cut, with this great ruff of head hair, and I would look like a damn Standard Poodle.

Kaycee saved me from that and I will never leave her even though we always have appointments set at noon that don’t actually start until 2 or 3PM or even much later. And I never get back home until well after dark.
But, I look really good.

Maybe you shouldn’t get me started on hair.

As you know, I had an oily adventure the other day. Now, I am taking various herbs and spice waters and I am doing a sesame oil rub over my entire body every morning.

“It’s especially good for you to rub the oil through your hair and onto your scalp,” the Ayurvedic doctor told me………..

Well, honey, you should see me. Now I look like a greased chihuahua.

……….There’s really no point to this blog today, just a ramble. My daughter, Summer, told me that I need to write in my blog more often.

I said, ‘But, I don’t want to bore my friends!’

Summer didn’t think that was a possibility considering the kind of life I have.
I did see my mother and my sister Candy this morning.

I gave my mom another Love Mojo Treatment and she gave me two. Candy demanded one, also. She wants more attention from her husband.

The three of us discussed Mom’s love life.
Candy and I told Mom that if she wants to have an affair with her suitor, Skip, she should. Why the heck, not? She’s old enough. We think it’s terrific that she’s 85 and he’s a handsome, virile 62. We think she’s lucky.
Mom asked if she has our approval to have sex with Skip.

We said, “Are you kidding? One of us needs to have a good time. Do it. We’ll live your life, vicariously.”

Mom has happily fallen into line with our thinking and we’ll see what happens next. I’ll let you know.

Maybe you had better check into my blog more often…you don’t want to miss the next Big Event in my mother’s love life, do you?

And P.S.
I told you on my radio show last week that my brother Jim was introducing me to a younger guy; he had hopes for a romance between us.
Well, I met the man. He’s a nice man, a millionaire who is always sick. He had an ice pack to his cheek when I met him, because of a bad tooth infection. And, according to him he had a big asthma attack a few weeks ago. He then described in some detail, his militant migraines and a nose operation where the doctors removed 3 cysts that looked like ‘big, red grapes. They hammered them out with a chisel.”

Oh, Yummy. That’s appealing.

I told Jim later, that I think I may know this fellow’s future. Some young chickie will look at him and say, “…Ummmm. Here’s a sick old millionaire who’s ready to die. I’d better marry him.”

This is why I had my mom give me another Love Mojo. For better luck next time….

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