Stream of Consciousness...

...or how a mind works on a Sunday morning.  This is a two-fold story, with a joke at the end.

Part One --
I have a chin hair issue.  For some reason--unknown other than alien interference--I have two places on my chin that grow hairs that could get me top billing in Ripley's Believe It or Not.  Seriously.  If I let them grow no doubt I could weave beads in them and dangle them to my chest.  I've struggled with these damn things for years.  It's a normal occurrence that I can be found standing in front of the bathroom window (the brightest natural light in the house), with magnifying mirror and tweezers in hand, plucking these devil hairs from my chin.

Part Two --
I was thinking this morning, over my first cup of coffee, that I hate my blog photo and wish I had a different one.  There's probably only been a handful of photos, in my whole life, that I have liked of myself and nothing in the last decade, for sure.  The photo I put on the blog is actually a crop of this one:

Alan took it when we were last in the States of BFF Jan, Ozzy and me at Jan's granny's house.  I cropped out my head and that's the photo I've used.  Ugh.

The Joke --
This morning as we're getting ready to take Oz for his Sunday morning hike, I casually mention to Alan as I'm lacing up my boots that I wish I had a decent photo of myself.  Maybe one with me holding Ozzy, cuddled up to my neck.  You know...cute.

He says (without missing a beat), "Well yeah, then people would think it's Ozzy's hair on your chin." 

HAHAHAhahahah.  Truly, I laughed so hard I had tears running down my face.  Course, after I got myself under control, I flipped him off and called him a bastard jerk, but still.  It was a perfectly hilarious quip.  Even if it was at my expense and not my fault, due to that whole alien influence thing.