This July, I'm going to be in Niagara Falls for a few days to attend a small blogger convention - the Blog Friends Festival. (Wanna come? Please come!) So, of course, I need great glasses and a haircut. (Yes, I'm aware that the haircut won't last until July. This way I can find something I love -and- bonus! figure out how to do it before I get there.)
I scored on the glasses.
My last pair was six years old. They were purchased right after the Harry Potter round specs fad finally went out, so they were rounded rectangular, a pinky-coppery metal, and designed so they didn't show up so much. Here. See? Unobtrusive.
Not so these. My new glasses are not shy. They are forward-thinking and opinionated, and if you ask, they will tell you what they think.
Or at least that's how I feel in them. Smart and sassy.
And I am sick in love with them. They are maroon. With bling. And curlicues. These are the first not-so-serious glasses I think I've ever had, and I love them. To the point of being gushy.
Bear smiled. 'I like your new glasses.' he said.
I launched into the Loving Of The Specs, Part One: 'Did you see the bling? On the sides? And they're red! And they make me feel smaht! And did you see the blinginess of them?'
He looked a little bewildered. 'Bling?"
I waved my hand at the side of my face. 'The crystals! On the temples! They look so cool!'
(Coming from a woman who is so indifferent about jewelry I often don't wear my wedding ring, this is a big change.)
Mine are maroon-red, and the bling on the side? Much blindier.
I smiled all day. Aren't they yummy?