I think the time has come for a new song in the vein of Queen’s classic, Fat Bottomed Girls. The new song should be titled Large Headed Ladies and I volunteer to star in the music video. I look in the mirror and I see a normal, average human being. However, looks can be deceiving and I’m apparently a living chibi or Funko Pop. (Both are characters with large heads.) I generally don’t wear hats for the simple reason that most don’t fit. One size fits all? Ha! Not hardly. Between a large head and extremely thick hair, most “one size” hats just perch precariously on top of my head.
During our visit to Wall Drug, we found a western wear store that sold hats that came in (gasp!) actual sizes. Since that day, I have been the proud owner of a genuine Stetson cowboy hat.
When I started my part-time job, I needed a sun hat. It took two attempts to find the one pictured in the linked post. I bought the first hat based on a Facebook ad with reviews which mentioned the hat fitting larger heads. Ha! It was so small I gave it to my nine year old grandson. Fortunately, the next hat was a success. Not only does it fit, but the vivid orange makes me easy to find when I’m working out in the orchards.
The most recent hurdle has been trying to find a bicycle helmet. Several months ago, Kenn purchased collapsible bikes for us to take with us when we camp. Sadly, we have yet to use them. We decided a few weeks ago to remedy that situation but that meant finding helmets. Of course it was a cinch for Kenn but for me, not so much. I carefully measured my head and made sure to purchase an appropriately sized helmet. Guess what? It didn’t fit. 🤦♀️ So, it was back to the drawing board. Thank goodness for LtMacDaddy and his amazing Amazon review. I purchased the same helmet and he is correct; the helmet also fits my fat head!
It’s a shame that adults don’t get to wear sparkly multi-colored helmets like kids do. (I’d wear a unicorn helmet in a heartbeat.) While the red is nice, it’s boring. I may apply a coat of my Lisa Frank nail polish to give it a little sparkle. Another downside to owning a red and black helmet as a resident of the state of Georgia is that it will be assumed to have been chosen in support of the University of Georgia Bulldogs. Spoiler alert: it was not and I am not a Bulldogs (or any other team) fan.
So, are you a member of the Large Head Club? If not, what is it like to be able to purchase hats off the rack (so to speak)?
The KOA Holiday we stayed at in Manchester, TN had lots of cute/interesting “statues” scattered in and near the woods lining the walking trail. I almost missed these brightly colored ants. Always remember to look up!
According to Dante’s Inferno, there are nine levels of hell. I’m here to tell you that Dante was wrong; there are actually ten levels. The tenth level is August in the state of Georgia. True, here in the South we don’t have four seasons, we have two-ish. But August… August is special.
August is the month in which we need gills. We open the door and step outside only to hit a wall of air so thick it’s hard to breath. And no, you never get used to it. I’ve lived in Georgia my entire life, which is rapidly approaching sixty (!) years and August always sucks. It’s easy to check the temperature and think “Hey, it’s only 79F this morning!” However, when the humidity level is over 90%, even 79 degrees is miserable. When the humidity level is high, sweat doesn’t even have its normal cooling effect because it doesn’t evaporate. Now that my part-time job has me working outside most days, I wear a long-sleeved shirt to help prevent sunburn. (The shirt is in addition to sunscreen. Fair skin is no joke.) Yes, the shirt is light-weight and a wicking material. It doesn’t matter. Wearing long-sleeves in the summer is the pits. When I get home at the end of the day, every stitch of clothing is soaking wet.
Kenn has a new coworker this summer. He asked her a couple of months ago if she was prepared for a Georgia summer. She responded “Oh, yeah. I’m from Washington state. It gets hot there too.” Little did she know… By July, I think she was beginning to re-think her life choices. “OMG! Is it always like this in the summer?” To which the answer is a cheery “Yes, but its just getting started. Just wait until August.” A dry heat really is different. (Cue Hudson from Aliens.)
If you need me, I’ll be over here counting the days until September when the weather begins to change and the hope of cooler temperatures keeps me going.
We overnighted at a KOA Holiday in Manchester, TN on our way to Louisville. (It was one of the nicest KOAs we’ve stayed at.) Once we rested a bit we decided to take a walk and discovered a huge field behind the campsites with a walking path around the edge. (A small herd of deer kept an eye on us from the far side of the field.) There are all sorts of interesting “statues” lining the trail and the edge of the woods starting with two gigantic squirrels. Kenn said “Please don’t touch the squirrel’s giant nuts,” so of course I did because that’s how I roll.🤷♀️😂
I found this gem on Twitter over a year ago; I have no idea who to credit for it but it is seriously one of the funniest things ever to me. I snort-laugh every time I come across it. It doesn’t hurt that I love cows, LOL.🐄
Last Friday I told you how the pet sitter always sends pictures of the cats when she visits. However, not all of the photos turn out as well as that one of Marvin. We get our fair share of pictures like this.😂 Honestly, I’m not even sure which of the cats this is. Cricket? Nyx? Someone else?🤷♀️ (The “assuming control” caption is for any Mass Effect fans out there. If you know, you know.😉)
One of the many blessings in our life is our amazing pet sitter, Furbabies Caregiver LLC. I’m extra thankful these days when we’re away from home so often as we travel back and forth to help out with the twins. When the pet sitter comes to the house she sends pictures of each of the cats. This one just cracks me up. This is Marvin, one of our outdoor kitties. This expression is very much that of a disapproving parent. I can almost hear him saying “It’s about time you got here, young lady. Do you have any idea what time it is?” (On another note, after a lifetime of cat ownership, I am convinced that brown tabbies have the best purr-sonalities of the feline world.)