Okay, this is the last wedding photo. For a while, anyway. For quite a while, I promise, cross my heart. I really have no idea who that child bride is. Good grief, I was young, and I thought I was so mature and ready to plunge into marriage. Don't get me wrong, the last 36 years have mostly been absolutely great, I wouldn't change much at all but when I think of all that she has to live through from that day to this... well, I guess she's stronger than she looks. Today's Photo a Day theme is "from where you live" so I've been trying to think of something iconically Green Bay, Wisconsin that I could take a picture of... and all I can think of is to search back for a photo of Lambeau Field where the GB Packers live and play. How lame is that, that that's (ooh, three "that"s in a row) what defines where I live. I don't have anything that shouts "USA" to take a photo of--no Mt. Rushmore, no Empire State Building, no Rocky Mountains, no Old Faithful geyser. Oh, wait, I know... here's a photo of the "Uncle Sam Santa looming over Mt. Rushmore" Christmas ornament I bought the other day. Now, if that doesn't just scream "USA" I don't know what does. Well, taking my sewing machine and all my cut out projects to work with me yesterday did NOT lure any customers in. D'you wanna know how many customers I had? Zero. The only other human who entered the building was the mailman and he brought one measly envelope. And what about phone calls? Aside from one from a supplier about a defective pole spear and a few robocalls wanting to fix our credit card accepting problems (which I don't think we have) the sole customer call came at 5:02 PM, two minutes after I closed, from a guy asking about fins for his kid's birthday gift. Of course I was rushing to get the trash bagged up so that I could zoom over to the yoga center for a 5:30 class. *sigh* After about 10 minutes of random questions I finally said, "I'm sorry, the store is closed and I have a class at 5:30. Please call tomorrow if you have more questions." And I hung up. Now I have a bag of trash in the back of my car because I didn't even have time to drive around the block to plonk it at the curb in front of the neighbor's house (because the city won't pick up trash at a business) and still make it to yoga. That means I get to swing by DS & DIL1's on my way to work and perform a drive-by garbage-ing because their pickup day is tomorrow. (remember to call them, Barbara, so they don't think that's just some random trash) Oh man, it's gray, cold and windy this morning. I suspect that something wet is fixing to fall out of the sky sometime today. Just as long as it's not freezing rain I'm good with it. I'd prefer snow, if my preference means anything, because that'll make it look Christmas-y out there and I'd like it to look Christmas-y instead of just dead. The grass is still green, for god's sake, and it's... it's St. Nick Day... and I forgot to leave my shoes out... so I didn't get any goodies. My only shoes out were my slippers and (feels around with her toes) there's nothing in 'em. Poor me.
December 6--Gilbert Adrian, "Roan Stallion" Dress.
Can't you hear it? Screaming in the night. Whine of saws and clang of metal. No soft touch, only the grasp of claws, iron talons sunk into tender flesh.
Well, isn't that cheerful? I didn't want to see where that was going so I put my pencil away, far away, turned out the light, and went to sleep. No nightmares for me, thanks anyway. I think this might be a red shoes day again. There've been quite a few of those lately. You do realize that red shoes days are for both really happy and really morose, no sad, when I'm sad I don't care but gray days when I feel grumpy are greatly improved by red shoes. I think I need more pairs, four may not be enough, not counting the jingle bell shoes. Happy St. Nick Day!
--Love, Barbara Sue