Beauty

I want, no I NEED to move to Scotland! (or at least visit...) This beautiful, this gorgeous this amazing older (as unto, in her 60s or 70s...) woman with pink and purple hair, eyes like copper pennies, a smile that matched the color and sweetness of mamones, a lovely Scottish accent and the glow of a goddess was just in my bookstore. She was wearing a handmade metal pentagram and explained that she was in Chicago visiting her son. I asked her what she thought about Chicago and she said that she'd just gotten in but thus far, it was wonderful. She bought a journal, two lovely books of days and a book on Japanese art. She asked if the gothic church down the block was open to the public. I told her that I believed it was. She mused aloud about her directions to get home. I said if she got lost, she should stop in here and use our phone... not something I'm suppose to say to a random customer. But I wanted so much for her to come back and talk to me and for us to become excellent friends so that when I do take my trip to Scotland, I can stay at her place and she will welcome me with open arms and we will dance in the moonlight and drink tea and visit all those monolithic historic sights including all those circles of stones and listen to the trees for the stories of old...

There's just something about cool old ladies that makes me want to squeal and cry with delight. They are my inspiration, my ideal, my hope. They show me that old doesn't have to equate run down or stodgy... Old can be anything you want it to be and when I'm old, I will be the funkiest old lady ever.... and it won't just be because of my smell.