Perhaps, on this blog, I have not told you that the inhabitants of this home are true believers in the fae....fairies, faeries, faery folk, of all manner and denomination.
Since I have quiet activities to partake in at this time, sorta like being on house arrest when everyone turns and says...."what are you doing up"? Uuuuuuh nothin', says I. I decided that I would pluck my eyebrows. Ick. Ugh. Blech. I hate looking in the mirror, always have. I'm not all that bad looking according to the people who
In doing my eyebrows I saw some additional age spots starting to invade my face. But I had a chuckle. Now comes the part about the fae. My granddaughter, chief fairy believer extraordinare, has always believed that freckles are fairy kisses. She has freckles, her Mom has freckles, Papa has freckles and her brother has tiny little almost nonexistant freckles on his cheeks. I have had and not liked my freckles ever since I was a child but she has changed my mind. Freckles are great because they show that the fae care enough about you to sneak in the house and kiss you. Very special indeed.
So as I am looking at this freckle laden, age spot infested mess, I had a thought...age spots must be a passport without question to the other side, over the rainbow bridge to paradise. GK assured me that that was clear thinking on the matter. So, it's a good thing I am restricted to less active persuits or I sure would have missed an excellent lesson in life. And a good chuckle at myself.