Arnold's eyebrows

I read the newspaper online this morning and was presented with a photograph of Arnold the Terminator Governor's face. He dyes his hair apparently because his eyebrows were not even close to the color of his hair and each eyebrow was speckled with gray.

Hmmm. Curious. While his State is living in catastrophic debt, I doubt he is suffering financially. Has his house been foreclosed? Has his credit card raised his interest rates? Is he stuck at home on a "Stay-cation?"

I think not.

So, can't he afford an image specialist who can advise a different course of action - don't dye your hair at all so your eyebrows and your hair color actually look like they came from the same head or if you're going to dye your hair, let's dab a little on your eyebrows.

Apparently not.

This is trivial, I know. There are so many other things going on around the world that I waste precious time focusing on Arnold's grooming. Hell, there are so many other things going on in my life the amount of wasted time feels monumental.

But sometimes I don't want to focus on anything truly important or meaningful. Sometimes that feels like a waste of my time. Like this morning, when I tossed and turned at 5 unable to sleep. Too much to think about followed by a hot flash that not only raised my body temperature, but also fueled my worries. Or last night, after my sister called and Ann asked me what she had to say. "Where do I begin?" was my response. It was too much, simply too much to retell.

There is a lot of walking I must do today. Six dogs are on the schedule including two new dogs who do everything but walk. A Basset Hound and Beagle, they are all about their noses and so it's walk a few steps and then throw nose to the ground for a good five minutes. I'm going to take Rubin with me in hopes that they will want to smell him enough that as he moves, they'll move. We'll see.

I have an interview this afternoon for an article I'm writing followed by a much needed haircut. I have turned into Elvis with my hair poofed up on my head like an evangelist. "The taller the hair, the closer to God," my stylist always jokes.

These are the things I want to think about -- which dog to walk first, who to walk with whom, the interview, my haircut, dinner, and yes, Arnold's weird eyebrows. I want them to push out the things I don't want to think about -- mainly my sister's needs and her inability to tell me something only once, not seven times in a given hour.

Clear my mind, clear my mind. Breathe and breathe and breathe. Focus on the eyebrows. Focus.