Okay, this has absolutely nothing to do with gardening, so skip over this post if that’s what you came for. Tonight, I’m writing about an encounter I had this week while Christmas shopping. While perusing the stacks upon stacks of gaudy Christmas sweaters, a woman asked if she could assist me. I said no, but looked up to a vaguely familiar face. We began to chat about the typical summer-in-December weather, then I said, “You look familiar.” Then, suddenly, it was as if I had pulled the string on a talking baby doll–I found out who her affluent hubby is, what elite school her children attend, what sports the prodigies play, what exclusive clubs she is a member of, and much more trivial information she apparently felt I needed for her identification. I was dumbfounded.
“I’m Mary Louise Hagler. . . .”
What are you defined by?
Just read this. That is so typical Augusta, isn’t it? Been nice to be alone in a town where no one knows me.