Hats

I like hats. Hats add to or enhance my character. Hats keep the sun out of my eyes.

In the summer, I wear a brimmed hat. I pin buttons and pins on it. Once, a librarian found a pin in my vicinity and asked if it was mine. It was not. "Oh, well," sid the librarian. "It should be," and gave my the button. A quote from Albert Einstein about education. Rather unschooly.

My hat has style ~ Heidi style. It is not a Tilley. It is from Lands' End. CHG has a real Tilley.

They are white-ish to reflect away sunlight. They are green underneath to minimize reflection into one's eyes.

They have a cord for windy days. I usually tuck mine up and around the back to keep it out of my way.

They have a fun foam insert inside the pocket inside the top; this will help it float in water.

The sides can snap up, though I don't wear it that way.

They have grommets to let the breeze blow through.

I can found in a crowd. The lady in the hat.

When I have summer band concert, the hat means that I am the personnel manager. I take attendance. When I remove my hat, that means that I am ready to be a musician.

In the winter, I wear a hat that was a gift for my son when he was younger. But I liked it much better than he did. So now it is mine. It was made by Doni Jo McBeath at Art for Your Frame. Go click. Not only does she make lizard hats, she makes chicken hats, rabbit hats, Knights visors, Viking hats with Brunhilda braids attached. She also makes coats for wee ones and pillow.

She is delighted that I send her an e-mail every year, letting her know that one lizard is still out in the world, making people happy. When we coordinate, she says she can make a winter hat for me with a brim. A duck in a pond.

Drivers are nicer to pedestrians that make them chuckle.

People smile at me when I wear the hat. I smile back. I rifle through my mental RolodexTM. Do I know them? Do they know me? No. They like my hat. Brave people find the courage to say out loud, "I like your hat."

There is a wire in the lizard's tongue. It usually keep it pointing up and out of my way.

If we have a large snow, I need to brush the snow from the roof of my car. In doing so, snow usually get on the lizard. Typically, I brush off my car because I intend to use my car, so after brushing, I get into my car. I turn on the heater. The interior warms up. The snow on my lizard hat melts. It drips. On my face. While I'm driving.

Lizard spit.