June Doesn't Live Here

This is June Cleaver. I'm convinced she had a housekeeper. How else could she look this good every night, have dinner on the table, and where pearls? Look at her hair and make-up.

Nothing is out of place. I'm sure she even ironed her blouse and skirt.

June doesn't live here.

Mrs. Rogers' wife does.

Remember Mr. Rogers?

He changed his shoes every time he came in the door...and slipped into a new cardigan or jacket too. All while singing a song. He had a vivid imagination and could usually be found in the land of make believe. My oldest and youngest live there often....and I do too.

I could be his wife.

Today I wore Birkenstock sandals to walk the dogs and to the train...along with a jacket zipped up.

Then I came home and put on my sneakers and nylon windbreaker and hit the trail for a run.

No time for a long shower. Just long enough to freshen up, and slip into my clogs and Spring jacket in time for a meeting and visit to the dental chair...just for a cleaning. Oh how I adore those sweet girls, but I'd much rather see them in another setting. My blood pressure is through the roof each time I sit in that chair.

Back for lunch with my little girls, and time to not embarrass my 10 year old at her D.A.R.E. graduation. I'm sure I did in my mustard yellow tights and riding boots. I don't ride...

although a man at the library asked me if I had a horse. Excuse me? I topped it off with a mustard yellow cardigan and jean jacket. I'm sure I embarrassed her. Oh, no worries.

I had a little dress on too.

Now it's time to switch gears again and settle into my slippers, yoga pants and hoodie.

Just in time for American Idol and Biggest Loser.

If there are any breaks, you'll find me in the kitchen. Cleaning. I'm not sure if there is a sink or counter in here.

Sorry June, my hair is in a messy pony tail, and my pearls have been long tucked away.