CREATIVE PEOPLE, ONE TO TEN

As to number 1:
...yup, which is why my mind is already restlessly moving on to the next blog subject.

Number 2: 
Ah, but those risks are so much easier when they're taken at a decidedly younger age.

Number 3:
But we were rewarded for coloring inside the lines back when we were just learning the basics of coloring. Hey, we wuz robbed!

Number 4:
Herein lies the heart that has been mercilessly trampled upon for thinking with it and not taking better care to protect it.

Number 5:
Mistakes? MISTAKES?? My life is a monument to "mistakes" ~ if I charged admission for this questionable monument, I'd be having tea with Bill and Melinda Gates on a regular basis.

Number 6:
I was born hating the rules. Hated them as a kid, adolescent, adult. And still hate 'em now. Which explains my troubled life.

Number 7:
Too independent for my own damned good.

Number 8:
Who, me, change my mind? At least 60 times in the space of one minute might be the record-breaker. Guaranteed to drive the obsessive-compulsive among us stone cold nuts.

Number 9:
"Have a reputation for eccentricity" ~ maybe, if 'eccentricity' equals my early life label, 'weird.' Hell, it's better than being predictable. And boring.

 Number 10:
Absolutely big. HUGE. HUMONGOUS. Grandiosity reigns supreme. Dream small, you get small. Dream big, hey, who knows...?

This blog, since its inception, has reached in excess of 10,000 hits worldwide. Never would have happened without somebody dreaming BIG!

Okay, I'm bored now. NEXT.

PARDON ME, IS THAT AN OSTRICH ON YOUR HEAD??

Or a hat? Good grief! What on earth were American women thinking at the turn of the 20th century? It's no wonder they had to fight for the right to vote. They probably couldn't fit their heads into the voting arena.

It's one thing to be a slave to fashion; quite another to adorn oneself to resemble Big Bird or perch an overflowing cornucopia on top of your body in order to be stylish. And that's not including the torture-chamber corsets that made their waists an impossibly tiny size, and the bustle-backed gowns...how did they sit in those things, on whoopee cushions?

Our Victorian Era sisters could not possibly have been comfortable even if they were snazzy. Those high-necked dresses and wrist-covering sleeves in the hot, sticky heat of summer? The dainty parasols that inevitably accompanied their outfits? They may have blocked the sun but they sure couldn't cool off much else.

I guess it was either that, or go for refreshing comfort ~ forfeit any chance of a 'good reputation' and become a dance hall girl.

Wait...what? And what would the lovely lady above have asked about our fashion styles??

Pardon me, is that a beehive gone berserk on your head???

No, I'd have to respond. It's actually Diana Ross and ALL of the Supremes sitting atop my silly 17-year-old head, circa 1964.

I stand corrected!