Friday, February 25, 2011


ME: I see old people.

TIM: Are you in a house of mirrors?

ME: That just keeps getting funnier and funnier.

TIM: What's the drama du jour?

ME: I'm moving and my neighbors are so old!

TIM: What did you expect? Your community is a 55 and over neighborhood. It's "gated" for crying out loud. You're surrounded by lovely, mature people.

ME: I'm not lovely or mature.

TIM: Hey! Isn't it nice when we agree?

ME: I'm serious. How will this work? Some of these people are on oxygen and I still play air guitar. I'm having a confidence crisis.

TIM: What are your biggest concerns and for whom?

ME: Ugh. I know this trick. This is where you ask a question and I go deep under my psychological, subconscious blankets to shine a light and seek out the underlying causes of my anxiety, right?

TIM: If the metaphor fits.

ME: I don't blend.

TIM: Have you ever?

ME: I'm not retired.

TIM: Is that the law there?

ME: I don't garden or knit or dress my dogs in coats.

TIM: Deborah, did you actually see dogs dressed in anything?

ME: No.

TIM: Are you afraid of the day that you will blend?

ME: ...

TIM: It won't happen.

ME: How do you know that?

TIM: Seriously, Deborah? You're talking to an imaginary fashion guru in your head. By the time you blend, you'll be the happiest person on the planet.

ME: Promise?

TIM: Oh yes. Just promise me that you'll dress accordingly.

ME: What will that look like.

TIM: I can't tell you what it WILL look like, but I can tell what it WON'T look like. No muu muus and no perms, other than that, we'll deal with it as it pops up.

ME: Cool. Bring it, geezers.

Monday, February 21, 2011


ME: I want a wig.

TIM: Are you planning a bank heist?

ME: I knew it! I knew you would never support me on this!

TIM:'re psychic and out of touch with reality...

ME: What's wrong with wig wearing? What can't I have a wig for when I'm having a bad hair day?

TIM: You can't afford a real human hair wig. You'll never wear it because you'd be too self-conscious. You live in a very hot, dry climate so your head will get too hot and boil your brains. You've been watching too much of Real Housewives of Atlanta...and that makes me so proud of you I just want to pop-and no, I'm being sarcastic. Shall I continue with my reasons?

ME: Yeesh. No!

TIM: What brought this on?

ME: Are you kidding me? Look at this stuff that is considered "hair". It's this stuff right here. It covers my scalp.

TIM: Ahhhh yes. The filament wire sprouting from your cranial pores. What color ARE you working on this week?

ME: Thanks. Thanks for confirming my reasons for getting a wig.

TIM: Please. There are plenty of people with hair far worse than yours.

ME: Name one.

TIM: George Rickles.

ME: He's bald.

TIM: You asked.

ME: Give me another.

TIM: Donald Trump.

ME: I could totally do that with my hair in another couple of weeks. You realize that don't you?

TIM: No need to go follicularly postal.'s the rant you're seeking. It's hair. It's not YOU. You're underneath it all. It's clean. It's trimmed You've actually received compliments on it. Sure, sometimes you pin it back like some kind of 12 year-old tomboy, but typically it's appropriate when the occasion calls for it. Sometimes I even sense some pride in yourself. Don't get all huffy on me. You're learning to edit...though heaven knows you could use some help in that department. If you're adventurous for change, let it grow, which you know you will, until it makes you crazy and then you will rationalize cutting in back into the neat little cut that you love so much. Who are we kidding with this discussion. Purchase the wig, pull it out for Halloween parties, and I promise to never say, "I told you so".

ME: I hate you for making me love you.

TIM: That wasn't weird at all.