On a Roll

I must be on a roll.  I don't mean everything is peachy in my life, but right now, the pendulum has swung closer to good than wearisome.  Nothing hurts on my body even though when I stand up after sitting still awhile it looks like it hurts, thank you Arthur Itis.  All the bills are paid enough, and the girls are not being stupid over anything.  We sang song 85 tonight, and when the new song books came out, I thought oh man, I am never going to be too thrilled about this one.  In fact, I was hoping to get married with the new songs.  Now, I'm thinking 85 is my theme song.
But I confess to liking good looking bald brothers.  At the DC, the sister who lost her husband, who was sitting with her daughter and her friend from the DC ASL congregation, well on Sunday morning her brother, Gary, came over.  He was about six feet and shiny bald.  He was married of course, and later I saw him talking to another brother taller than him and bald too.  Funny how there are no degrees of baldness.  You are or you are not.  I know, some have fringe and I'd argue that a combover is also a kind of baldness, but I like it smooth and round in entirety.  Anyhow, I stopped to talk to these two bald brothers.  I just have no idea that I can't go up to anyone and talk to them.  I've always been fearless that way.
When we first moved here, southern belle that I was, I was making small talk to a woman in line at Wal-Mart, and she looked at me confusedly, (not a real word, but you knew what I meant) and she said, "Excuse me, but are you speaking to me?"
She had one of these accents up here.  She pronounced are not like the letter R but more like awe with just a dash of R at the end.
"Yeah," I said, because I thought it was pretty obvious there was no one else standing there with us.
"Well, don't," she answered haughtily.
I may have the accent of an Okie Dokie, but not the brains.  I know that the best way to handle arrogance is to never be offended by it, even if you are.  Like that old antiperspirant commercial:  Never let them see you sweat.
I laughed.  She looked taken aback, a very satisfying expression.  I admit, no perfection here yet, not even close.  So I laughed a little more and then said, "Oh, silly me.  What was I thinking?" and then I turned away from her, picked up Time magazine and started reading. 
Sometimes my approachableness gets me into situations.  But I went up to these two brothers and asked the second one I hadn't met yet if he was Gary's brother.
"Yep," he said.  "I'm his brother, but only spiritually."
"Yeah, but we get mistook a lot because of these ugly bald heads."
I had to interrupt and tell him that the right sister found bald to be beautiful, and they both said not many of those sisters to go around.
So I wonder why I am single in that context.
I laughed and told them that the biggest turn on on the planet was a bald brother going up to a door in field service and just after ringing the doorbell he puts his sunglasses on top of his head so he can make eye contact with the prospective householder.
Those brothers were rolling on the aisle with laughter.
They wanted to know what was "wrong" with me to make me think that way, so I told them.
I really have no clue.
But, when I was five years old, my mother would not let me have Barbie dolls because of the boobies.  Thankfully my grandmother and some cousins contributed to my toy box.  In the meantime, my older cousins, all boys, decided they were too old to play with their action figures anymore, and I inherited them.
This was when GI Joe was 12" tall and held together with screws.  He wasn't too pretty naked because you could see how he was made whereas Barbie and Ken were joined and there were lines at the shoulder and waist and hip, but it looked more like a real little person than Joe.  However, Mattel dolls could not bed worth a hoot until 1967, and Joe could wrap his loving arms all around Barbie.  He gave new meaning to flexibility.  I'm not sure any man has ever measured up to my early expectations that way.
But, I did discover, quite by accident with action figure #1 (boys never call their dolls dolls.  They are always action figures) that if you soaked Joe in the bathtub long enough and used enough Mr. Bubble, that he would come up bald.
In  three nights I ended up with three bald Joes for my Barbie and Stacy.  And, I had the big ugly green jeep for them to ride around in.  I painted nail polish stripes on it to make it a little prettier.
All I can tell you is that at age five, I preferred my dolls, action figures, and guys to be bald.
Gary and his friend told me to come to Baltimore and they could introduce me around. They reported that even though they are married, there are plenty more where they came from who weren't enjoying wedded bliss and would find my tolerance, even appreciation for baldness, refreshing.
I can't believe it.  When I was singing that song tonight at the Hall (and my second congregation here, well we have a kitchen, but no hunting lodge motif) I thought go to Baltimore?  Are you kidding?  That's just what I need, someone telling me when to make another pie and I can't go to Fashion Bug with those discount coupons and buy whatever I decide I want.
I was wearing a new shirt from Fashion Bug tonight.  Next summer I plan to visit my childhood friend Becky and her husband at their missionary assignment at Saipan.  Nobody can say me nay on that either.
If baldness is imperfection, I guess Jehovah will fix this about me in the new world.  If he opens his hand and fills all our desires, then we won't desire imperfection.
I'm just saying up front, that I like curly hair the least of all of it.  So I'm hoping for a great big refrigerator sized guy with green eyes and straight hair named Amos in the new world.  A big heart would be good too.  I guess there will be no small hearts then.
Goodnight.