You guys all know my sister, Jennifer, right? No? Oh, you definitely should. You can get to know her a little over on her blog, but I have to say she's been a little lazy about posting lately. She should post a lot more, because she is chockfull of excellent counsel. She's also a little bit bossy. Somehow, it never surprises people when I tell them that. I don't know why. If you ask her, she will tell you that she's not bossy, she just always knows what you should do and sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. You probably need to decide for yourself, though.
Just today, for example, I told her I was going to go to the new Goodwill in Edmonds. It's new, you know. I haven't been there yet. It's kind of a trek from my house but I need some new flowered coats. And possibly some boots. Also, I have had a strange craving for a denim skirt lately, but most of them are way too prairie and I think I might be too old for a short one. But I have high hopes for the new Goodwill having just the exact right denim skirt for me. Or at least I did until I got some sage advice from Jennifer. See, she has a theory about the Edmonds Goodwill: Rick Steves is from Edmonds, and he is ummm, less than fashionable. In fact, he wears fanny packs, so therefore Edmonds Goodwill must be full of nothing but mom jeans, pleated khaki shorts and stirrup pants.
I didn't actually know who Rick Steves was, because I find travel writing very boring and I don't have any cable, until she mentioned his efforts to decriminalize marijuana. Then it started to ring a bell, because I am a fan of that. Not because I have any interest in smoking pot myself, but if you want to, I don't think it's any of my beeswax any more than it's any of yours how many bottles of wine I suck down. Wait, did that sentence make sense? I hope so, as I am neither drunk nor stoned and so should be perfectly capable at fashioning a coherent sentence.
Well! That was a tangent; I'm not sure how that happened. It was like my keyboard was working itself! Anyway, she likened Rick Steves to Mr. Rogers, except for the pot part, but you know what? I think Mr. Rogers liked his doobies. No one could be that mellow without assistance. I mean, think about it. Not once in all those years in the hood did he let loose on those annoying whiny puppets. That's superhuman, man. She's right about one thing, though, all that pot smoking didn't improve his taste in clothes. I bet if he'd gone to the new Goodwill he could have found some stuff that was a lot more snappy than those ugly cardigans and slippers. If he was still alive I would totally invite him to go with me, because what could be more awesome than Goodwill with a baked Mr. Rogers? Since he can't go, though, I guess I'm on my own with my birthday Goodwill gift card and my optimistic nature. I'll keep you posted, Jennifer!