The queen, tea and toes

Saw this woman the other day wearing sandals, and both her pinkie toes pointed straight up to the sky, like they were permanently having tea with the queen.

PS Never, ever look up images of feet online.

Transvestights

It will come as no surprise that my family are National Public Radio (NPR) freaks. Growing up we were tuned in to NPR in the mornings while we got ready for work/school and everywhere we went in the car (except for the phase mom went through that involved buying tapes to listen to in the Chevet: RunDMC and Twisted Sister come to mind. It IS tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time, by the way.)

NPR is a hard habit to kick, and I'm an avid user now as an adult. I used heavily while pregnant and am hoping Cam has it coursing through his veins. I even got my husband addicted. Everyone I know is addicted and whenever we're together we like to get high on the news.

Conversations in my circle go like this:
Me: "Could you believe about that zoo in Gaza?"
(Turning away from friend.)
"Grande skim latte with whip cream, please."

Friend: "Well, All Things Considered, finding those Lions after so many days was miraculous. Venti chai latte, thanks."

Me: "Hahahaha. Good one. It's so sad, though. Anyway, did you hear what Cokie said? Kills me. So smart, so funny."

Friend: "Totally. She's my hero."

Me: "I know, right? I'd love to have her for dinner, but then I'd feel really stupid."

Notice we need not mention NPR or the day and time we listened, and that we feel as though Cokie (born Mary Martha Corinne Morrison Claiborne Boggs, which I just learned today) Roberts has been a friend since our moms could leave us in the Chevet with the windows cracked while they went grocery shopping for an hour. I spent that time shaving my legs with the razor ma left in the glove-compartment box, often listening to NPR. Or the Chariots of Fire soundtrack.

Anyway, this is a long run up for my point. I am emailed NPR news, and I recently read about an organization in San Francisco that was gathering hair clippings from salons, stuffing that hair in nylons/tights and sending it to Louisiana as human-hair booms are a natural way to soak up oil. The problem they were running into was that they had an abundance of hair, but no one wears stocking anymore. Except, that is, for the transvestite community, which has come forth a-plenty and saved the day.


And I just love the irony in that a stretch of Republican Louisiana beach, albeit only a very small section perhaps, will be saved because of transvestights.

If you'd like to listen to this most excellent story, go to this NPR link! An excerpt from All Things Considered.