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Posts Tagged ‘soup’

Winter has returned and I’m deliriously pleased. Wrapped in sweater and scarf, it’s chilly enough for a hat too.

I mailed the scarflette all the way to New Jersey in a recycled tea box. The fit was perfect. I can see all the wonderful boxes I discard (recycle) on a regular basis. Toothpaste box: fabulous for jewelery and water resistant. Cereal box: a scarf and wrist warmers. So much better than buying boxes. Then hopefully they will get recycled on the other side.

I’m still incredibly spaced out, but sounding better. I have little appetite, except for tea and toast. Still, the house is bare, so  I’m off for soup. It’s so much better when someone else makes it.

P.S. Watched more episodes of Mythbusters. They must be having a marathon. I’m addicted. I’ve learned: You can neutralize a light case of poison oak by pouring vodka over it; you most likely will not die if hit by a bullet shot at a 90 degree angle then falling back to earth (although do you really want to test this theory on your own? see Darwin Awards); and it is potentially dangerous to paint your entire body in gold paint.

I am now appropriately armed for a cocktail party.

d.

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Blurr…

I am still flu-y. Eating oatmeal, perusing Etsy. Looking at stuff. I was going to try and write here today, be pithy, but I mostly feel like curling up and staring at my eyelids. There are dirty dishes piled in my sink (yuck) but I’m calling it an installation piece for today; I should name it. . . unscoured dishes#84.

I wonder if it’s possible to soak in a hot bath all day. Would my skin ever return to normal? Would that necessarily be a good thing if it did? I feel a little blurry. . .

Someone make me chicken noodle soup and send me back to bed! Zephyr doesn’t cook so I guess I’m screwed. Poor dude, he doesn’t look to hot either.  And the sun is out. Supposed to reach 67 degrees today. It’s February! Ugh.

Sark calls this “the tyranny of a beautiful day.”

Now back to my Kleenex. dahlila.

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As a writer I am a pesky editor. I am constantly going back and rewording items that most won’t even read. Plus, now that I’ve admitted I’m a writer, YOU are now searching for errors, aren’t you? Please don’t. You will surely find some. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not perfect–even when I really, really want to be. 😉

I have just been scrambling to fluff my Etsy shop, make it more alluring. It’s hard to do. EVERYTHING is on the photos. I’ve reshot some and am now waiting for the fog to lift so I can shoot more.

I’ve been terribly productive making scarves and experimenting w/scarflettes, chokers, beads and buttons. Today a batch of felting is going for a hot bath and I am very excited to see the results. Felting is such fun.

I also went thrifting yesterday and found some wonderful sweaters. One to wear; one to revamp. A beautiful dark blue with light blue and white Swedish edging will make a great pillow cover. The arms will be wrist warmers–for Etsy or myself. I can’t decide. Sometimes selling is hard, since I design everything to be loved by ME.

Fog or not, I’m off to cafe for coffee and soup. Friday is clam chowder day w/baguette. R has been happy–his girlfriend? Yes or no? Who knows. Am tempting him to purchase fuchsia scarf for his darling daughter.

Postal arrival! Real mail from my dearest friend, T. It has squirrel stickers and a bumble bee. T sends lovely letters and cards.  Very happy. Coffee AND letter.

d.

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I don’t mind when it rains. Or even when the wind rattles my window panes. But fog is just sticky and unpleasant. It lingers like the smell of fried onions.

I took Zephyr for a walk, because I have to when it isn’t raining, but it was bone cold. Too chilly to sit outside for coffee–R. won’t let me bring Zephyr inside the cafe (my little neighborhood cafe, where I plant flowers in the spring, tend to their plants in trade for coffee and an ongoing friendly discord with R, the manager.) I don’t know why, Zephyr is more civilized and clean than some of R’s patrons. Humph.

So, I’ve come home to oatmeal. And it wasn’t bad–I rather like oatmeal–but it wasn’t French onion soup or Tomato bisque with croutons, which is what fog really needs. (And maybe a hot toddy too.) The weather, the food and my mood aren’t adding up warmly right now.

 And I’m nearly out of yarn! Ghast! I have barely enough to finish ONE wrist warmer. awkward. unbalanced. Not quite right. See? Sigh; oatmeal…

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