Okay, so.  My daughter, the brilliant one?  The blonde, folks, the blonde.  Stay with me here.

She wanted feathers in her hair.  I don't know why.  She's a teenager, that's why, far as I can tell. 

I made her wait until after The Wedding.  Oh sigh.  Oh drama.  Then she had camp and had to wait a whole nother week.  More sighs, more drama, but at least she was at camp 400 miles away so I didn't have to hear it.  I'll tell you later how she didn't even text me the whole week long and I thought she was dead and buried in a ditch somewhere.

So today we were in the van, on the way to local beauty parlor inside the Texaco station.  What?  You don't have a beauty parlor inside your Texaco?  You're missing out, girlfriend. 

She asks me, "Which side should I get my feathers?" as she's playing with her gorgeous long blonde hair.  She's so purty, like a rooster at daybreak. 

"Most people do the left, I think," I answer her.  I figure she'll do the right now, because she's the species known as Teen Angst. 

Then she did something that shamed me as a homeschooler, a mother, and carrying of her dna.  She held out her hands in front of her, palms down, and mouthed "left, right" while lifting them one after the other.  What in the .... ?  I thought we covered this in preschool!  I'm almost positive we did! 

I handled it calmly.  "You don't know your left from your right?" I screamed as I ran off the road.

"Sure, I do," she lied through her teeth.  "I was just trying to figure out if you meant your left or mine."

"We're facing the same way!"  Now my car is nose down in a ditch and my kid is a dummy.  Life is not my happy place.

"Rightttt.... So, left is the side I wear my ring....Right?"  She strives for coolness.

I bought a new state of the art curriculum today.