I love subtle reminders

And this one is key:

Self-flagellation is sooooo old hat.

Besides,

Do I really want to be accused

Of stealing Jesus' thunder?!

So I'm sitting in the doctor's office, where she's perusing the results of a routine blood test a little too closely for my liking. Covid-19 has obviously thrown out the 10 minute rule (which, quite honestly, I always ignored, but now want back!)

I'm about to ask if there's a problem when she says, "I think you need to make some changes to your diet."

"What sort of changes?" I ask warily.

She mutters something about Omega fatty acids, and I perk up.

"Oh, I love anchovies!"

To which she queries, "What about flaxseeds and walnuts?"

👁 

I used to hate surprises, but liked being surprised. An oxymoron-gone-awry? Yup!

Surprise? You arrive home with bad hair, in boyfriend jeans, grubby tee and flip-flops, only to be serenaded by thirty runway-ready eager guests...

Being surprised? The totally unexpected, but with distinctly unembarrassing possibilities... Note my caution either way; latent control-freak dreading one, but circling the other.