Honky Cat

So I'm running errands on my lunch break today...

And it's gorgeous out. Just warm sun, slight breeze, trees-juuuuust-starting-to-turn gorgeous.

And I'd just spent the $20 I'd very specifically earmarked for a bottle of wine as a treat for myself this weekend on fabric instead. Because I have a problem, apparently. It's an addiction people, this fabric thing. I can't even be blamed for it...not really.

Anywho, there I am at a stop light a few blocks from JoAnn's and Elton John's Honky Cat comes on the radio. And I've got all four windows down in the cavalier, hollering along at the top of my lungs, bopping around, drumming on the steering wheel, drumming on the ceiling, playing a mean accompanying keyboard rif on the dash. I was  killing it...

And this lasts through to the next stoplight where, along my left side pulls up a dark midnight blue SUV just absolutely choc full of sinfully attractive males.

And they, in the spirit of the day, have all of their windows down, with various arms and legs hanging out of said windows, like something out of an Abercrombie Catalogue... all loafers and tan arms and blinding bright white smiles.  And I can feel their stares before I turn to witness them... 

And they're cracking up. And I'm drumming. And they're just dying laughing (I hope you peed your pants mr. red-shirt!)  So I shrug, turn crimson in embarrassment, and turn UP the volume to drown out their cackles and catcalls and hoots and whistles and keep singing.

What else was I supposed to do?

I only hope this exact same scenario can be re-enacted when Isabelle's old enough to be supremely embarrassed by it.