Back In The Saddle, Back On Track

Work today, BOO... but paycheck too, so YAY.  My wallet's feeling a bit parched and I need to get gas today since Durwood heard that they're closing the Gulf of Mexico oil platforms because of Tropical Storm Isaac.  That's sure to jack up gas prices.  Everything jacks up gas prices.  *sigh*  I even remembered to take a Photo A Day picture today.  The theme is "tap" and that stumped me for only a minute; then I realized that you would love to see the tap in our ancient avocado kitchen sink with a Mitch-made dishcloth and the grody sponge sticks and Lava soap on the rim.  I was pretty satisfied to see that the flash caught individual drops as the water trickled too.  I rock.  Just ask me.  The jury's still out on whether my haircut was a miracle or just another version of "meh."  Carla cut bangs to try to eliminate the sheepdog flop I had going on and tapered the sides so that I can still tuck them behind my ears and layered the top a bit.  But it's not a mullet, nope, not a mullet.  My hair is so fine and so soft that unless I glom on the superhold gel it soon forgets its style and just slumps.  Ah well, good thing I don't really care as long as it's not in my eyes.  Who's looking at me anyway?  Nobody, that's who.  OK, Durwood looks at me but I suspect my hair isn't where he tends to look.  The parts he's interested in are lower down (and sagging lower every day).  I feel like I don't have anything to talk about since my horizon isn't vast and my surroundings aren't news.  I'm back to the short view with little bits of sky peeking between maple trees and house roofs.  (how come it's "roofs" when the plural of "hoof" is "hooves"?  just asking)  I did notice quite by accident last night that when I get home from work today I need to go out and pick raspberries for my beloved.  His raspberry canes are making berries like crazy, all little dots of dark red up there for his eating pleasure.  I don't eat raspberries, I sort of don't like them.  I know that's a sacrilege but I just don't.  I like jelly donuts, you know, the ones with the granulated sugar on them, and that jelly is and always has been raspberry, but I'm not a fan of raspberry in other forms.  Hey, I tell him he can have my share of raspberries and I'll eat his share of blueberries which he's kind of meh about.  Works out, although his raspberries (thanks, DS & Mason T) are much more mature and thereby make more fruit than my 3 fairly young and barely established blueberry bushes, but I keep them mulched with pine bark and feed them the kind of fertilizer they like and they give me a few breakfasts of berries and more each year.  I can be patient.  Speaking of patient, I'd better get a move on so I can eat, shower, do my (new) hair, wash grapes, get gas, and get to work on time--or nearly, hey, it's not that kind of store.  Very rarely are there people battering down the door at 10 AM on the dot.

August 27--Syria, Gravestone with Furnerary Banquet.  "Can you read that?"  Gela asked, squinting at the words carved into the limestone.  Jacey looked at her.  "You mean can I read the ancient Syrian on there?  No."  She shook her head and pointed at the tour guide in front of the group.  "If you listen instead of talk I'll bet he'll tell us what it says, or you could ask, or read the little label there."  It was the tenth day of a sixteen day tour of museums and historic sites, and Jacey was more than a little tired of Gela assuming that she knew everything.  It was time she shouldered some of the research burden.  "What do I look like, a walking guide book?"  She scowled at the tranquil quartet smiling out from the gravestone.  "What're you looking at?  Figure your own selves out, I'm going to find a cup of coffee all by myself."  She backed away from the group as they all shuffled toward the next exhibit, then she slid behind the screen that shielded a painting from the sunlight.  "I'll meet the group at the bus in an hour," she reassured herself as she slipped away.  That was the last time anyone saw Jacey Taylor.

Dun-dun-dunnnn.  I love it when bad things happen to cranky people.  Oh, wait, I'm often cranky... maybe I should rethink that.  Anyway, enjoy your day.  It's sunny here; I hope it's the same where you are.
--Barbara