The Fashion, with Props

 

I really want to be interested in fashion, but I can't.  It's too normal.   Needs more mollusks. 

Tottering On Potter Bling

Meanwhile, I've been up to my shin guards in catching up on that whole Harry 'Canon Fodder' Potter craze, initially instigated by my fellows and ladies at work and later driven by the fun of it all. Today marks my finishing of the series, half-read by the page, half-heard through the riveting Jim Dale. Luckily, my hands had plenty of manual labor during the audio-imbibing process. After the second coat tomorrow, our dining room is finished, its numerous cracks healed and sealed, its many scrapes covered and smothered.

A major force in the painting movement. Who knew?

Half Twain, Two-Thirds Brain Sprain

Been hookt on Parry Hotter like a young, uppity teen snotrocket solicitor. We have access to all the audiobooks (which were remarkably well done), and the movies (which I deem less than medium-rare, having digested them to the best of my capacity and believe me, I certainly didn't glean much from either; I can hardly remember remember the covers, let alone the taste of their collective insides), but I'm sticking with the hard copy version. Incidentally, I've just realized that I am, despite all my short-sighted huff-puff, once again a reader. I read.


'Nudder milestone.



Stepping stone.



Tombstone.




Changing the subject, a Hearty Congrats to the not-so-young Bing Crosby at the UD Undergrad Exhibit, and happy farming to Margaret in her exuberant organic glory.




Oh, and I've figured out how to work the junky scanner on the junky computer! Unedited, low-quality images to come, come tomorrow!