Here's me at the Seattle Nutcracker before I lost my favorite hat. See how happy (and warm I look)?
Now hat is history. Hat is somewhere on Queen Anne Blvd and Mercer Street or on the head of someone who ate at Pagliacci's Pizza. Hat lives a life of her own. Maybe hat misses me. Maybe hat believes we could still be friends.
I have looked everywhere for hat. Hat is nowhere to be found.
