I'm getting the hang of this new laptop and I really like having the number pad back at my fingertips but the original Kumquat didn't have it so when I glance at the keys and plonk my fingers in the middle I end up typing something that looks like Hungarian or maybe an alien language. I have to start feeling for the tiny ridges on the F and J keys so I know I'm in the right place. (did you know that's what those little bumps were for? they're for "touch" typists to be able to see where they are without looking, I'm not that good anymore but I can be trained, a little anyway)
Dad's rose is blooming like crazy and with no Japanese beetles to munch their way through the blooms it's looking just fantastic, and I think it's even fantastic-er with raindrops.
September 10--Syria, Jar. "You are not putting the ashes in that." It wasn't anywhere close to being a question. Miriam stood with her arms folded across the jacket of her designer suit and her feet in their $500 pumps spread as if spoiling for a fight. Gabe looked at the blue and white jar on the desk. "Well, yeah. Edgar told me that's where he wanted to be so that's where I'm putting the ashes." He leaned on the edge of the desk. His long legs in faded blue jeans and the dusty boots on his feet made him look like a farmhand instead of the head of a multinational conglomerate. "But that's a 14th century Syrian antique, it should be in a museum not in a tomb. It isn't right." Miriam had very firm ideas about the rightness of things. "It's not seemly." Gabe flung up his hands. "Oh for crap sakes, Miri, they can put the damned thing in a museum, Edgar can go along for the ride. Maybe there are some cute girl ghosts there for him to flirt with."
Hmm. I might pursue that one of these days. Okay, time to shower and see if I can't floof my hair into some semblance of a style. Of course it IS raining so any droopy hair I can blame on the rain. Seeyabye.