Pure of Heart, We Are Not

I cannot be trusted to pick out an appropriate outfit for a visit to the dentist much less for being a guest to my cousin's wedding in May. In Louisiana. In a Catholic Church. So, I entrusted Dustin to do it for me this past Saturday. He sent me a series of picture messages from numerous stores in downtown Seattle which I then vetoed or asked for more detail. Exasperated, he called an described a strapless, dusty red pinstripe number that seemed, to both of us, perfect. My mother reminded me that the Catholic faith is modest and may discourage bare shoulders in the church. Not to be thrown off course, Dustin asked, "So, I suppose I should take back the vagina hat I bought you."