"I think being a woman is like being Irish." — Iris Murdoch

Yesterday all the stuff about red/pink highlights made me forget another indignity:  we were about a block from home, when something hit my cheek.   I thought at first that someone had thrown something at me, but the people walking behind us were too old and too far way...  then I thought it was a bug... once a big moth flew into my face and the little whack! I felt was kind of similar, like the time when a locust smacked into my forearm.

My lightning-fast analysis was all wrong.  Nelson said, "Honey, what happened to your face?"  Not the best phrasing for the question, but I realized... "I think a bird pooped on me."

"He must have just grazed you," he said as he looked me over.  "It only hit your cheek."  I wiped it off with a tissue and managed to not get grossed out before I was able to wash my face.

Oddly enough, Dubya was also hit the same way recently.  His acting press secretary (Dana Perino) gave a little spin:  "Everyone knows that's a sign of good luck."

Yeah, maybe.  I'll have to get back to you on that.  I guess I was lucky it didn't land on my clothes, or on Emma.