My dad wasn’t a traveling man, but he was a hat man. Even when he had a full head of hair, he wore hats, summer and winter. After he died, my mom kept many of them wrapped and boxed up. All in great shape.

I put this felt one on top of one of the old suitcases, also still in excellent condition. Then I had to wait for the light to be right.

When I was five or six, Dad decided I should be a hat person too. He started buying me hats, which I wore to school. I was the only person who wore a hat. But it didn’t bother me because the teachers made such a fuss.

The first hat was a blue felt number which I still have. It’s somewhat deformed because my kids played dress-up with it when they were little. I’ll have to find it and take a picture.

I can still be a hat person if I want.

At the store tonight, there they were in all their powdery goodness. I have to work a few more hours, and didn’t even think how hard they would be to eat at the keyboard. First, I gazed at the Entenmann’s offerings, but the box was too big. I found the Hostess ones, and not only were there some in a small container, but for those of big appetite, there was a big box too. I haven’t had a powdered sugar doughnut in years.

But sanity held out, and I headed for the checkout doughnutless. (I only had roast chicken and a salad for dinner, no carbs, hence the craving.) The clerk looked longingly into the bag as he sacked up my purchases.

Me: What.
Clerk: I see you have a duck.
Me: Yes, you have them on sale.
Clerk: Duck is good food.
Me: You should get one and roast it.
Clerk: I don’t know how. I get my duck in restaurants.
Me: It’s easy.
Clerk: Nah. They taste good in restaurants.
Me: Lazy.
Clerk (gives me a look): Enjoy your night.
Me: Really. Easy.
Clerk: I like duck with some bread. And chili.

I wonder what restaurant he goes to. Obviously, one where they serve man food.

An African grey parrot’s 950-word vocabulary stuns researchers. Hmmm. Almost a thousand words. Isn’t that more than some politicians can manage?