Frontline

Leeloo caught fleas the last time she was at the vet's. I can hear her even now, wimpering a little as she tries to scratch her itches. Earlier in the day, I vowed to go on line tonight and buy her a batch of Frontline...budget be damned. And then, oh the simple yet much appreciated gifts from the cosmos, I found half a dozen treatments of the stuff in her doggy supply box left over from some previous time I'd used it. These are the victories I measure.

The bra

One good consequence of having hubbie move out is that I now get the occasional opportunity to go shopping ALONE while he has Nathaniel. I reveled in wandering down the aisles of Walmart a few days ago, dawdling here and there. Chance brought me to the Ladies Department and I celebrated my newfound shopping freedom by trying on a pile of braziers. I wear only granny bras. It is my plight in life. Not only am I a full cup size different on each side, I have absolutely no natural "lift." Push-up bras look hideous on me, creating not rounded valleys of tempting flesh, but an unappetizing décolletage of jiggling jello.

I was delighted to find a $9.00 that fit nicely and was a little more tailored than my usual. I chose one in black and, on mad impulse, a second one in an animal print. I hesitated, wondering if that was really "me." And then I shoved it into the cart thinking "it COULD be me, I could be that person."

Still, it nagged at me. Finally, I felt compelled to show it to a friend. "It's animal print," I confessed sheepishly. "I don't know what exactly, leopard or tortoise shell maybe." She looked at it and then looked at me with pity. "It giraffe print."

I returned the bra.