Class

Whatever happened to class?

As exposed in that delightful ditty from the musical CHICAGO, if you're using the word, or its very own adjective, "classy," you ain't got none.

DOUBLE NEGATIVE.

You don't have any.

And I was raised that way. And it may also be a little leftover from my days at Yale when townie me had to deal with the private school privileged, Lords and freakin' fortune inheritors.  I didn't want to be outed as being middle "class" me.

So, in general, I use the word "classic."

But today?  Today I'm watching someone be so damn-ass classy I can't see straight.  Poise and generosity personified.  

I'm honored.  And I bow to you. I'll probably split my pants in the process. Maybe fart.  But I bow to you, nonetheless.

Peace

It's been a while...I was going to write a piece about being a bad blogger. I didn't blog because March exploded...figuratively.  

And then Boston did....literally.  My middle-class, educated, white girl problems, joys and jadedness, mean very little.

2 adults were killed...many more catastrophically injured.  And an 8-year-old boy named Martin Richard is dead. 

 Martin, I'm sorry more people didn't listen.  Maybe someday.  

Peace.