The Fab did go to Graceland, and, Darlings, does intend a long and metaphorical post regarding the journey, once she digests the experience (clearly the Fab and her alter ego Mary are never going to be twitter sorts of gals, they live on a geological time line.  Is it improper to include a tangent in a parenthetical aside?  The Fab remembers something about parenthesis within brackets, or some such construction, but, when did the Fab ever worry about things like that? Never. Proceeding onto the tangent.  You know that once the Fab commented on Mary’s blog that Mary writes in metaphor, Mary responded that the Fab lives in one and Mary was hard pressed to distinguish a difference between the two, anyway …).  And, as usual neither Graceland, time lines, or metaphors were the intention of this post, yet we got there none the less.

How aging sneaks up behind a gal and from time to time whacks her upside the beehive, that is the intended subject.  And in the most recent distressing repercussion of getting old(er), the changes in the object of certain sorts of dreams.  Not that you dear readers need (or want, the Fab guesses) to know this, the very first erotic dream that the Fab remembers featured Marvel Comic’s Thor the Thunder God.     Oh stop. Don’t tell the fab that some of you gals didn’t dream about David Cassidy or Bobby Sherman.   At least Thor could swing a hammer.  Whatever your take on that may be, the distressing part (for the Fab) comes in because, just recently, in that same dream, Thor the Thunder God has been replaced buy …  Karl Rove.   The Fab is getting old.  No disrespect to Mr. Rove, he is white hot brilliant and all, but a replacement for a Marvel Comics super hero? Really?   Even the Fab finds that distressing.  Plausible, but disturbing none the less.

There should be a warning booklet for this getting older thing.  Some things, a gal needs to work up to.

The Fab’s journey to Graceland next, promise.