In case you were unsure…

I have NO fashion sense. Zero. Mind you, if you think an almost fanatical devotion to faux fur leopard-skin prints (pajamas, coats, vests, hats—name it, I have or had it), tie dye, graphic Ts and Vans are fashionable, I’m your ultra haute Jackie O., Audrey Hepburn or, more accurately, Mae West.
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I LOVE biscuits and gravy! Yes, those can be vegetarian. Ten makes it with some absolutely heavenly vegan sausage and other stuff and IT IS PERFECTION!!!

Yes, I’m gonna need some of that goodness soon.

Meanwhile, since eating (with my mouth still recovering from dental surgery hell) is still problematic, breakfast today will be a VERY soft burrito filled with scrambled eggs and saag paneer.
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No, I still haven’t gone for a proper walk. Not in two-ish weeks so far. Neither have I finished my tax prep. Yes, I’m a slag but part of the joy of being an actual grown-ass adult (I am SO an adult!) is that I can take time outs without getting a permission slip from anyone. This little break from being a mature, conscientious adult WILL end. I’ll get back on track but it doesn’t have to be today. Also, I’m giving myself permission to take baby steps.

I mean, hell and damnation, I’m approaching my seventh brain surgery (20th op overall) I deserve some motherfucking downtime!

Ya know what else I deserve? New Vans. Also some supportive, comfy, stylish sandals. My balance is too banjaxed for any of that strappy/barely there footwear but there MUST be some good shit out there for the fashion forward walker-bound set. If not, there should be!
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If I was a patron saint I’d be Saint Donna of the Hospital. No, I would NOT be interceding with your Lord God du jour to shield you from the slings and arrows of outrageous medical fortune and such. I would be the bringer, accordant with Adonai’s commands, of ill health.

WHY in fuck’s name would you petition Saint Donna for this brand of intercession? Who the hell wants to be frail, feeble, diseased and disabled? Not me and that’s a fact.

Quite likely my venerators would be mostly masochists. Possibly there’ll be thrill seekers in the mix as well. I could see Iron Man competitors joining in. Ya know, the same old run/swim/cycle routine can get dull after a while. Let’s add in some Nf2 action—yeah, sounds like a great new challenge! (said nobody, ever)

Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be doing boffo box office in the saint biz. I would however be the swankiest, style-setter of all the saints. Saint Francis de Sales can eat his damn heart out.

“External seemliness is a sort of indication of inward good order”

“As to the quality and fashion of clothes, modesty in these points must depend upon various circumstances, age, season, condition, the society we move in, and the special occasion”

“For my own part I should like my devout man or woman to be the best dressed person in the company.”

Yeah, tell it, Frankie!