"Even Angels Get the Blues"

Yesterday I accidentally dropped one of the angel ornaments in a full mug of steaming hot coffee. I took her out and rinsed her off, but all the glue came loose and the brown color stayed, so I threw the whole mess away and made a fresh mug of coffee.

Got an email from the state poetry contest chairman, encouraging me to attend the fall luncheon meeting Saturday-week to read my winning poemS. So I must have won a prize in more than one of the contests. He also emailed Ramey that she had won, and told her that I "hit the jackpot." Hmm. Those prizes range from money, down to penniless Honorable Mentions, and we're supposed to read the "money" poems before the group. There's one I submitted that I hope didn't win money, because I'm ashamed of it and will not read it before one person, let alone a group. Don't know why I entered it; just to bring my entries up to 10 instead of 9, I guess.

I looked in the mirror this morning. Big mistake. I really, really could use a facelift. I would importune my rich relatives for the price of one, but it's probably too late to worry about it. If hats would come back in fashion, I could wear hats with veils any time I had to leave the house. Would look really sharp with my usual outfit of threadbare jeans and motheaten tee shirts.

Yesterday at the store I met and talked with one of my Isbell cousins, four or five years younger than I am, who looked like a miniature Granny Ella. She also had a bigger bald spot than mine.

In my opinion, when a person gets too old to look presentable, he or she ought to stay in the house. Which would work if he or she had someone to shop, fetch and carry. At any rate, I don't need to buy a Halloween mask.