It’s truly unconscionable for you to tell me it would do you good.

Vixen.

So I’m rhetorically fucked, and here’s how it’s gonna. be.

Early last week at the start of real spring break, we left the dirt road house intending to be on the road for several days. Paradise Valley for the addiction tanks, three days running. Probably a job interview at the end of that.

I didn’t pack very wisely.

One of the things I forgot to bring was a proper suit coat for meeting the next prospective employers in.

While I was in the tank the first day, Livia ran around to the high end mall stores–we don’t typically have access to a Macy’s, or a Soma. One of the things on her list was a suit coat. Or rather …

I told her specifically to look for leather.

Because I don’t want to buy any more stupid functional petroleum-based monkey suits to prove how square and employable I am.

She did real real good. She found a five hundred dollar leather jacket on the clearance rack for two hundred. And when we went back, it fit me like it was made for me.

It probably looks pretty cool there, but the pic ain’t even doing it justice. It’s even cooler …

… and it makes me feel cooler too, sportin’ it.

There are some interesting symbolisms going on with it too.

The first leather jacket I bought myself, half a life ago, was goat leather.

This one’s sheep.

As you have long known, Sheep Go To Heaven.

I am now prepared to visit that place, and I’m planning the trip.

Like you’ve done so many times before for no reason, you can make me look fashionable and good. You can do that for me. I’ll let you. Reluctantly. Send me the two and I’ll give it to the card I bought this with.

And then I can think of the one that found it on the rack, and I can think of you, and all the other strong women I love best, when I slip it on and feel invulnerable.

Fair enough?

My life is a moral minefield.

But through the minefield
We can dance
If we want to.