The Laura-Bush-Well-Groomed-No-Terrorism-All-Clear-Alert

There is much in Peggy Noonan's latest to make fun of: reading people's minds (again), assumptions about how people are going about their lives:

Something that is happening is that the leaders of networks and the executive producers of shows and the managing editors of magazines are all fully aware that they set the tone for their organization. The young look to them for cues and clues. So they kiss the wife or husband goodbye and hug the kids and leave the house in the morning wondering if today is the terrible day and they won't get home again. Then they get into work and lounge against the wall in front of their office as if this is a snoozy Tuesday in August. They glide through the halls making jokes and referring to plans for the big summer meeting in July. They're cool as a cuke for the kids in the hall.

but this is my favorite:

Wednesday I was in town for a lunch for Laura Bush, who had been invited to the mauve walled dining room of Good Housekeeping magazine to speak about literacy. About halfway through her speech there came from the streets a howl of sudden sirens, and no one moved or altered his expression. Mrs. Bush continued talking.

I looked at my watch: 1:37 pm. I wondered if the journalists around me were going through the same thought-stream I was. 1. Oh no, is this the trouble? 2. I'm with the first lady at a dramatic moment in history, take notes. 3. Maybe being with the president's wife isn't a bad place to be; her Secret Service detail knows how to handle things like this and they must carry gas masks, etc. Then a romantic sense of history kicked in: Maybe this is like being with Mary Todd Lincoln the morning of first Bull Run. In five seconds or so the sirens died down and moved on. Mrs. Bush seemed wholly unaffected.

Earlier, when I'd asked how she was doing, she said she was fine, this is obviously a difficult time for people but anxiety has a way of diminishing with time, people get used to it and then don't feel it so sharply. I asked how the staffers in the White House were doing, and again she said fine; she was mindful that they'd been forced to flee the White House by foot on 9/11 and had had some hard days. She mentioned to the table that she thought people were watching things like Michael Jackson and Joe Millionaire "to distract ourselves." In her remarks she said, "I know we will get through this," and that she finds herself thinking, "This too will pass."

She was poised and composed in the way of someone who isn't trying, and she was humorous. When Good Housekeeping's editor, Ellen Levine, stepped in to pick the first questioner in the ensuing Q&A, a bright woman in eyeglasses began to ask a question. Mrs. Bush asked her to identify herself and her organization. She gave her name and said she was the deputy editor of . . . Good Housekeeping. "Oh great, this must be the setup," Mrs. Bush said, to laughter.

She was in a well-tailored dove-gray wool suit, collarless and double-breasted, with a knee-length skirt, dark-gray heels and pearl earrings. Her makeup had been applied with some art, her auburn hair was subtly highlighted, and her nails were professionally manicured, with red-orange nail polish. I mention this because sometimes grooming is a statement. Mrs. Bush said: Don't worry too much, we'll all be fine; if I didn't know this I wouldn't have been able to put on my eyeliner in such a straight line. Good grooming and a cheerful demeanor are sometimes heroic.

Using this as a barometer, the next time Laura Bush shows up in public with uncombed hair, in a housecoat, with a scotch in one hand and a cigarette hanging off her lip....kiss your ass goodbye.