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Somebody has got to hold poor Timothy Geithner down and botox his forehead. He was on the cover of Forbes a couple of weeks ago, and those darn furrows are driving the stock market into the toilet. Six quick pops above his eyebrows, and we could have 4 months of a worry-free face, and that would be good for America.

Now I haven’t always read Forbes, but you know I am trying to keep up, read stuff, and decide who is right or whatever. And that makes me think of a job I would really like to have. I don’t care if I am elected, appointed, or just the last man standing, I want to be the “Decision Maker.” Yep, I want to sit somewhere with a tip jar that is convenient for everybody, like in the mall or at Target, and corporate mongols, congresspeople, treasury secretaries and receptionists could come ask me what can be done about the economy. I would act very confident and careful, you know, a cross between Solomon and Yertle the Turtle.   I would tell them exactly what they should do, and how they should look doing it, because image is 9/10 of the law or something like that.

Anyway, I really think that all housewives need to step up, and offer advice at a time like this. It’s a darn good confidence-builder. Actually, ironically, and unfortunately, while I am taking a hard look at Timothy Geithner’s forehead, I have to look at my own, not my forehead, but my lack of progress in my job hunt. It isn’t good. I am lost, but I bought a suit. Isn’t that optimistic?

The problem with women’s suits is that they look like suits. Back to Forbes. This week’s cover has five unhappy looking women in suits. Now granted, they may look unhappy because they were fired, but I think their attitudes are compounded by what they are wearing—various shades of ugly gray suits. In the 18 years since I have been home, wouldn’t you think there would be some improvement in women’s business dress? Not necessarily, I guess, because men still wear the same suits with red or yellow ties that they have for decades. But men look dapper in suits. Throw a suit on any male—convict, cable guy, or hobo—and they look good, really good. Shove a women into a suit, and we just look wrinkled in all the wrong places. And for some weird reason, suits make women’s hair look terrible, or like it belongs some place else on somebody else’s head. It is as if when you put on a suit you should just go bald, or at least wear your hair in a bun. And to look good in a bun you have to be Audrey Hepburn. So what is professional looking hair? I am the last to know. I have to tame my hair with a blowtorch and a can of hair spray every other day. I have worn my hair short (looks like a helmet), medium (looks like a cocker spaniel), and long (looks like a mushroom). I have tried wearing it pulled back (spinster librarian), flipped out (old cheerleader), and al la naturel (steroid poodle).  I know there are women that are blessed with hair that behaves and seems to belong on their heads, even when they wear a suit, but they aren’t on the cover of Forbes.

And…ah… the bunnies are still in my closet. My closet, where I go to find peace in the time of uncertainty. Usually by now—Lent and almost spring—the bunnies are happily scattered throughout our house. But I have been so distracted that I have forgotten them. Or maybe not forgotten really, just let the point slip away. Until today. Early this morning, still dark, I went outside and saw a familiar, furry silhouette. It’s seems like a long time, and I wonder where he has been—maybe sleeping through the winter burrowed somewhere beneath the flowerbeds. I am glad he is back now, quiet and still, keeping watch in the front yard. Leave it to an old friend to remind me of the virtue of small, good things. Even in the time of uncertainty…