The Car Your Dad Drove?

My dad is a truck man.  

He had a blue Ford F150 with the manual transmission gear shift

on the steering wheel column instead of the floor. Friday evenings immediately after school, we would cram into the cab--all four of us--and drive to town for a fast food dinner and grocery shopping. 

Fashionista? Who Me?

As I sit at the kitchen table, keeping an attentive eye on the cubed potatoes frying in the black iron skillet on the stove, I'm glancing through the latest edition of a very popular glossy fashion magazine. 

The first quarter, if not more, of the magazine is mostly ads--sleek, glossy ads for designers whose names I cannot pronounce let alone afford. The models are aloof in that tall, gaunt gorgeous way of models. Here's the thing: in most of the heavily stylized ads, I'm not always certain what the designer is promoting.