Current Photo Friday theme: Dead of Night.
What do you suppose James Dean was doing at the Dandelion Fountain in the dead of night?
Photo Friday, No. 73
What do you suppose James Dean was doing at the Dandelion Fountain in the dead of night?
Tag: dolls
What do you suppose James Dean was doing at the Dandelion Fountain in the dead of night?
Belated Saturday post
I’m a bad LJer, hardly posting and barely able to comment on anyone’s blogs or journals, though I am reading you (other than anyone’s fiction, because I usually can’t/won’t/don’t read other people’s unpublished fiction, but especially not when I’m writing). If you think I’m being a slacker online, you should see my unanswered e-mail, my pile of unpaid bills, and my house.
Today they started pulling up the various layers of flooring that have gone down in the kitchen over the past 80 years. And then they stopped, because way down underneath it all are materials that could be asbestos. So now they’ll do the floor a different way. I don’t care as long as the workmanship is good and it looks good. But because they’ve gotten down to some old wood, I think the house has a funky smell. No one else seems to smell it, but I do. I’ll be very glad when this part is done.
They also pulled off all my cabinet doors and–sorry, Lindsey–my cabinets do NOT look like the Container Store Fairy came in and organized them.
You know, there was a time that I was a really good housekeeper.
And then I wasn’t.
I’m starting to wonder what I AM good at.
To divert us all from my flaws…
Button Sunday
Oh, I know what you’re thinking. There she goes again, with more of her liberal ranting. But my politics are really not why this is today’s button.
Sir, you are no gentleman.
Mark G. Harris wanted to know about “those pantelets.”
Fiddle dee dee
She was a birthday gift from women I used to work with. He was a Christmas gift from Tom.
Look for it only in books, for it is no more than a dream remembered.
Because Mark needs a Saturday smile
I was so annoyed with myself for not getting the one where she’s wearing the black gown. I got this one, though. I can’t remember if I bought her myself or if someone bought her for me. She’s from Mattel, 1997.
There was simply no one like the original and never will be.
AAAAIIIIIIIIIIIGHHHHHHHH
Life needs to SIMMER DOWN around here. Today I had so many errands to run and I just turned off the phones and the computer and did them. On the way, I treated myself to the one indulgence that always, always lifts my spirits.
Guinness ignores my newly pedicured toes.
When I finally got back home to stay, I saw a box on the porch and…well, I BLAME ALL OF YOU. I haven’t bought one of these things in years. YEARS! Probably twelve years! But when doing posts about them to get accurate information, I happened to see this on eBay and I bid on it. Okay, I didn’t. I paid the BUY IT NOW price because it was cheaper than its original retail price. And today, it came.
Challenge to Mr. Ricker
Tom just took another trip to the attic, and you know what that means. Well, yeah, it means Sugar cringed at the pulldown ladder and said, “What the HELL IS THAT?” But also, it means this:
I think it was my friends Christine and John who reminded me the truth is out there
Heroes and Villains
My second grade teacher was my first villain.
Because I was often sick as a child, I grew comfortable in the quieter company of adults–my parents, older relatives, my doctors and nurses–and preferred their world to the noise and messiness of children. I was shy and timid, and my parents worried about how I’d be when I started school. They were able to entice me out of my shell by bringing a dog, our mixed breed Dopey Dan, into my life. Dopey was born to a dachshund whose owner tried to drown the puppies when he found out they weren’t purebred. My parents told me that as a result, Dopey was shy and afraid. I had to be brave so that I could teach him that it was okay to be around kids.
I had smart parents, and I was also fortunate to have other good adults in my life. Like the sweetest kindergarten teacher, Miss Harris, who acted like she didn’t know I once replaced my broken Crayons with Linda Bishop’s perfect ones. (Sorry, Linda.) Then I had a lovely first grade teacher, Mrs. Griffin, one of those ancient Southern ladies who smelled faintly of talcum powder and who had ample breasts that translated into smothering hugs in the most comforting way.
Playing Barbies
I promise I won’t do this to you every day. There are too many Barbies. I can make this ordeal last a long, long time. But since I’m unpacking, cleaning, and repacking them, I may as well share photos of them, starting with the King.