It has been a long day.
This morning, in another universe if feels like, I heard again that whenever a Southerner says, "Bless your heart." It is a backhanded compliment. It is supposed to mean you're a little dense but I love you anyway.
One of the biggest frustrations as a native born Southerner is you hear your culture defined all the damn time it seems. I'm in the habit of saying "Bless your heart." I got it from my dad. It means "Bless your heart." only. It is an endearment.
I asked my mom what connotations she knew. It was the same as mine. Dang, it is part of my lexicon. I've said it all my life. I like the way it rolls from my mouth and the good feelings I have when I say it.
I heard Hillary Clinton tell Terri Gross on NPR. "Those are not my words, don't put words in my mouth." Well that might not be the precise words but it is the precise sentiment. I'm on Clinton's side. She lives in a world where everything can be interpreted any way the political pundit wants. She can hardly speak with the social candor of Terri Gross.
Today, the light turned green as I was putting Button's harness on. I swear I did not sit there forever. The truck next to me had not moved either. A long angry horn blew the moment the light changed. I was looking even if my hands were engaged. Anyway, the old guy did his arm at me in the FU motion as he blew the horn passing me.
I have this fantasy water balloon tosser which would spring load a juicy balloon in his lap.
By the way, I am that older chick you pass. Aggravating people one car at a time. Anyway, Buttons looked smashing and had a wonderful walk.