So when I was, like, 8 years old I had these daydreams that when I became a Lady Woman Lady I’d be sitting on my window seat on a rainy day in an oversized cozy t-shirt and giant cozy white socks*.

*[ Cue Random Tangent. ]

So speaking of tube socks? Apparently they are totes out of style now thanks to the Intern at work who’s way younger and blonde with eyelashes and reminds me I’m aging and recently let me in on the news that tube socks have been out o’ style for the entire last decade. Oops. (Okay, so I didn’t quite wear the violent sexy pair to the right, but mine were approaching the calf muscle. I know.)

So how could I have missed that memo?

And did I really seriously work out at Pure Austin in Katanka’s yoga pilates pretentiousy kayaking class with effing tube socks?  Sweet Mary and Joseph.  There I was red-faced, determined, and doing the plank completely unaware I was trapped in the 80′s. Oblivious!  I know for a fact that sweaty Kevin Bacon and Kyra “These are My Lips” Sedgewick have worked out there.

OMG.
What if Kevin Bacon had seen my tube socks?
Would he have taken that as a cue and begun to punch-dance out his rage?

[ End Tangent. ]

So back to my oh so interesting girlish dreams that my red curly tendrils are pinned in a messy bun with a pencil as I adjust my oh so dainty glasses pensively and cross my long, modelesque legs. I stare in the distance at the Eiffel Tower, and feverishly scribble brilliant, innovative thoughts.

But then it dawned on me that I will never become the next great American novelist sporting a faux French accent with long modely legs (sans tube socks) if I don’t at least write a teensy wee bit every once in awhile.  And grow about 2 feet more.

LindeBlog, I dust thee of thy cobwebs and vow to update you way, way more.