The Brat in the Hat, Revisited!

A year ago almost to the day, I introduced the topic of my hat. I won’t reiterate what I said then, because, really, redundancy is not my bag, my thing, my end all or be all, my schtick, and/or my cup of tea. It also does not float my boat. In addition, if you want to know what I said then, all you have to do is click on the link provided and — poof! — you will be transported to the past, and you can read all about it there. And yes, that simple click does involve time travel. Actual time travel, like in Back to the Future. Except without the snazzy motor vehicle. And no flux capacitor.
So, anyway. My hat. I wore it this morning for the first time this season. Now, what I have not mentioned about the hat before is that it has an opening at the top for the wearer to display her gorgeous shiny raven tresses. It’s quite marvelous. I would show you a photo — really, I would — but I am not including any images on this site until I resolve my problem. (Time travel again! Don’t be wary of it. In fact, embrace it. Remember how much better-looking you were last year at this time, or even just yesterday, and how much thinner and sharper-dressed? And how your kids still loved you and didn’t think you were a piece of filth because that was before they caught you doing … that thing … that they had to later demonstrate to their counselors using hand puppets?)
So I wore the hat. And realized that, what with the hair-hole (oh, what scintillating imagery that conjures up!), the hat’s design recalls the bathing cap I coveted when I was around six years old. Some of you may remember it. The cap was a standard design insofar as the rubber went, but attached to the crown was a long, high ponytail that recalled Ann-Margret in Bye, Bye, Birdy. Yes, a bathing cap that did perform its function of keeping the wearer’s own hair dry, but which also defeated its other purpose of keeping hair from getting caught in the pool’s drains. So it is with my hat. On one hand (or head), it keeps the ears and head warm, but the possibility exists for cold air to enter via the portal atop the head.
As I walked to Pilates this morning, a sprightly combination of Puss in Boots and the Cat in the Hat (original Dr. Seuss version, not the idiotic Mike Myers one), singing non-holiday songs softly (but aloud) to myself, pep in my step courtesy to the brisk frisk of air, I realized that my hat, like the bathing cap, was a beautiful melding of form and function. Style and substance. And at long last, 30-plus years after I first became starry-eyed over the ponytail bathing cap, I have achieved the same effect.
Life is good. Life is oh so very good!