I don't have many soft things. I don't think I'm a "soft" person. When I think "soft" I think mohair and cushy things, fuzzy stuff, pink and baby blue, pillowy stuff, none of those are me. I think. So I looked around the living room when I was Wii-ing earlier and saw the bloom on the peace lily. The pollen had all fallen off (onto the carpet) but the bloom looked soft, so I took its picture. Then my glance fell onto the pearly inner shell on the table by the window. That's soft to the touch or rather, it's smooth (smooth is kind of like soft, right?), so I took its picture. Then I went outside in the backyard to see if there was any "soft" out there. Well. There's the hummingbird vine with its soft greens, oranges and pinks. Took that. The bright yellow petals of the lilies are soft to the touch. Got it. Don't the daisies look like a soft pillow of flowers? Snap. Ooh, ripe blueberries are a soft blue. Snap, then pick, then yum. Look! the thyme is blooming soft pinkish lavender. Click. Hm, those sage leaves look kind of soft, like they have gray fuzz on them. Buzzzz. You get the picture. I got all the pictures. Now, how to pick one (ONE!!) for today's posted image. It's like picking a favorite child. Do I go with my first, rather desperate choice or do I choose a more reasoned, calmly considered one? I could just pile them all on here and let you choose... but that's kind of a cop-out, making you, my nebulous and imaginary-feeling readers (I know you're out there, Aunt B, the rest of you, eh, not so much), responsible for it. Okay, I'm making a choice but I'm going to post them all anyway because now that I've told you all about them it would be mean not to show them to you, right? Right. *nods confidently* Durwood's making something crockpotty out of his Dad's Day gift from DS & DIL1, America's Test Kitchen's Crockpot cookbook for our supper tonight. I brought up chicken leg quarters to thaw out so it's something chicken-y, but beyond that I'm clueless. He had a veritable drift of red bookmarks poking out of the pages of the book, top and bottom, when he was thinking out loud about what to choose last night. I, myself, voted for the bbq one but I suspect that's not the one he chose. I don't really care. I haven't had to choose or prepare it. I'm not out there clattering around assembling it so it can be cooking away while we're off on our appointed rounds today. I'll eat what he makes. I'm easy. Not cheap, no no (cheap implies low quality), but easy... amenable might be a better word, yeah, I'm amenable to eating anything he slaps in front of me (unless it's moving... or liver) most of the time. I suspect that it's my tendency to eat pretty much anything and for any emotion that's gotten me into the shape I'm in. (round, I'm round) Ha! I should have taken my own picture; I'm soft, but I don't think you want to see my "soft" parts. (Ewww. Sorry.)
June 29--School of Bernard Palissy, Platter. "That is one god-awful ugly plate," Gerry said when I held up the platter. "Ugly and filthy, a can't-miss combo." I got the feeling that she didn't like it. I kept my mouth shut about all the chipped, cracked, and flat-out broken monstrosities she'd held up to me in any one of a jillion similar dim shops we've been in. We both love to paw through resale and antique shops looking for "finds." Not the fancy ones but the ones that are dusty and crammed to the rafters with good stuff. Gerry has a thing for Kewpies and any other doll that's "so ugly it's cute." In fact cute is how she describes any old thing that catches her eye. She'll pick up some doll that looked like a dog had been gnawing on it and say, "isn't this cute?" I'll peer over at her and squint to see if I can figure out what's cute about it. Most of the time I can't see it. She has some nerve saying that this platter with its frogs, snakes, and lizards on it is ugly. It's probably a real valuable antique from the days gone by. I'm sure of it. I'm buying it.
Okay, kids, that's it for me today. Next I need to wrestle the pictures on here (if anyone knows how to make them go where I want them to, I'd appreciate some tips, really, it's making me crazy not being able to) and then get dressed for our city tour of appointments and errands. Oh, hey, it's Friday, isn't it? Woohoo, yoga tonight! Yes. Now I'm happy, now that last week's sore muscles are all better I'm ready to go again. Bring it.