The prom is coming up.

The prom is coming up. I have a lovely daughter who insists on poking holes in her body, and decorating said holes with metal and plastic of ever-increasing gauge. The coiffure she favors I believe is referred to as a "Mohawk." Her latest nod to fashion is a tattoo that permanently marks what may well be a temporary nickname. Her boyfriend has suddenly discovered the joy of dreadlocks. I was under the impression that they were not all that interested in attending the prom. This morning I was busy digging up information on my least favorite County Supervisor and the husband made a mistake, which I immediately capitalized on and sent him to the mall with the aforementioned children to "look at prom stuff."

The husband reappeared a while later with what looked suspiciously like a formal dress bag. No sign of the children, though. I remembered a bit later that they were off to a friend’s house for a ‘craft party.’ How convenient for them, eh? Crafty, those kids. I untied the knot in the dress bag and headed for the closet to hang it up and realized to my horror that the dress was too long to hang inside the closet. My lovely daughter is petite. She is tiny, in fact. Unable to resist my curiosity I laid the whole bag on the bed and peeked under the edge of it at a four by four inch patch at the hemline.

Occasional black beads on white satin.

Three-hundred and sixty bucks.

The husband is taking her to get it altered.

Wonder if the boyfriend is wearing his kilt and combat boots?