I nearly had a mild heart attack when I walked into the bathroom tonight...I beheld, in the dim light, a ghostly blue face with wild hair.
It was, in fact, my face. I had put on a masque which happened to be blue, and my hair was wild because it was air drying after being washed. I suppose I sort of forgot that my face was temporarily blue. The funny thing is, I usually put on that particular masque on late at night to avoid startling anyone, and this time it was me that got spooked by my own reflection.
Today I discovered how much joy a bouquet of pink roses can shine into a little 5-year-old's heart. These particular roses, in addition to their brilliant color, had a delightful scent. I am a little sad when roses don't smell like, well...roses, but these did not disappoint.
I have often pondered the Shakespeare quote that says "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." I wonder if that is accurate (in the literal sense of the saying.) I mean, I know that what something is called doesn't change what it is, but I would imagine that if roses were called stink-pods or dinkleworms I would not look upon them with quite as much fondness. I suppose I'll never find out because they shall continue to be called roses until the end of time (that is called making An Assumption and is not generally recommended.)
Have a lovely day and don't forget to stop and smell the...you guessed it...roses.