Do I really want a choice?As I slide under the water I realize no I don't, but how do I take thatchoice away? Ah, my fantasy from last night comes up...again. Standing infront of my mirror with a towel wrapped around my torso like a woman,another on my head holding my wet hair. I decide brow shaping is in orderand why not. Almost like a metaphor as my brows become thinner and takeshape so is a plan materializing and taking shape. Stepping back fromthe mirror I am pleased, my hair is freshly. It started out with one of my Dad's innocent comments."Lindsey, you're not eating the way you usually do, Honey," he said. "Please tell me you're not pregnant, AGAIN!" My dad wouldn't have cared if she was. He loved all of his grand kids and loved having a big family. He and my mom had only stopped having kids because after me, my mom couldn't have any more.He'd meant it as a joke, but Lindsey didn't see it that way. All of her anger boiled over, and she snapped at him. But it was clear that. Tuesday night the international news ran a story that the ISIS Libyan branch had claimed responsibility for killing the Prince in retaliation for allowing the US to use bases there to bomb them in Iraq and Syria.“No matter how hard you try, you cannot fix stupid,” I thought and to claim responsibility for that was as stupid as one can get.On Wednesday the Saudi Air Force flew 500 bombing runs against ISIS and promised even more on Thursday.Wednesday Jamie sent me a text wanting me to stop by. ”As the door closed, Dr. Widener regarded Anton with a worried look. “My dear, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Rhonda left us some time Friday night. Of course we’ve filed a missing persons report, but so far she hasn’t turned up. I know you were very close, so I’m wondering if you have any idea where she might have gone.”Anton didn’t seem particularly distraught as he shook his head and said, “No. I only know where she would not go, and that is to her mother. Did something happen to make her.