Now when I blog I’m watched. Six dark eyes absorb my every move. The eyes belong to three big cows I painted. I pat them on their noses, ask them questions, and admit, “Yes, girls….I am strange.” Please don’t tell them, but I like Daisy the best. She’s the one on the left. She was the biggest stinker to birth. Her face is my favorite. For more on Daisy’s difficult birth please see my April 5th post, “Bovine Belly Aching.”
We had guests on Saturday night. Friend JR, and his lovely date, Melinda, along with Melinda’s sister. Melinda said Daisy, my painted cow, looks like me. Huh….really? I look like a brown/white/pink-nosed cow? Marilyn said it was something about the eyes. I admit I was wearing individual false eyelashes. Maybe the thick lashes appeared bovine?
Putting on individual false eyelashes is a ridiculous vanity at my age. I know, I know…so silly. Eva Longoria told me, via some random internet wander, to put a blob of lash adhesive on a surface about five minutes before applying the lashes. What surface? Where? I use a should-have-been-tossed-out-years-ago eyeshadow case.
I squirt the adhesive on the plastic lid, then go through the motions of manifesting my face, one clump of lashes at a tweezered time.
The “Girls” don’t watch this business. They live in the kitchen. My face gets manifested in the master bathroom.
But when I am up and prowling up at o’ dark hundred, ruminating about manifesting my future through the power of positive thinking, these “Girls” are watching me. Daisy, Bossy, and Maisie gaze over our kitchen. As they eyeball me they don’t seem to care if I’m with or without “war-paint.” I like that they accept me as I am. Which, when you think about it, they should. Without me, they wouldn’t exist!
Daisy is the little lady entering stage left. She’s simply hoping to be part of the family. Fat Maisie has shoved herself as close to center as possible. Mother, Bossy, plays mediator between the kids.
Looking at Daisy’s eyes I don’t see any resemblance to the woman in my bathroom mirror. Do you?
I need to crawl back to the feathers, but my head is filled with so many new insights. Is it true our future reality already exists? Will all I dream of come true simply because I believe it will? The girls bear witness to my reflections. My most recent reflection, “Do I truly resemble a cow?”