Monday, July 25, 2005
Spot on
I have a new laundry problem.
Gentle readers, you will remember that I recently shared a dark secret with you. The secret of my smelly laundry. The smell seems to have been resolved through timely removal of laundry from the washer and prompt drying. But now I have this to contend with:
In a house full of soft beds, couches, chairs, pillows, and people, Gemini prefers the cold metal of the dryer.
He's a tough guy, you know? But I need to doublecheck each time I dry a load, lest I tumble dry the kitty.
I'm still working on the Super Secret project, but I had a little time to work on the Phildar tank.
This is the tank I made without realizing that the halter part of it necessitated ordering a special accessory piece from Phildar. So I'm improvising with an i-cord. I think it'll be okay. Hopefully it will still be Chic Zen.
It's so hot out. I know everyone in Arizona and Iowa and Illinois and Ontario and New York is going through the same thing but . . . it is rilly hot.
These tomatoes were green on Saturday.
The farmer's market is filled with beautiful tomatoes, eggplants, blueberries, peppers, and on and on. I made baba ghanouj out of the eggplant we bought on Saturday, and now chowder from the potatoes and corn we bought.
Nothing like chowder on a hot day, huh? (That's the stock, by the way. Corn cobs generally do not belong in people food.)
To pass some of these hot evenings, I've been watching this:
Oooh, they look evil on this package, with their blue eyes searing into you. But it's a great show. Excellent writing, great acting.
Speaking of writing and acting, The Island did not do very well this weekend. In fact, it has the unmistakable whiff of a big ol' bomb. What's this? Did audiences not find the flying motorcycle compelling? Was all the exploding stuff too "brainy" and "intellectual" for them? Did this Entertainment Weekly cover do the movie in? Very possibly.
I'm sure you've already seen it, but do be sure to check out Mr. Cupcakes's fantastic Skully sweater progress.
Looks like it's time to SHUT IT DOWN.
Gentle readers, you will remember that I recently shared a dark secret with you. The secret of my smelly laundry. The smell seems to have been resolved through timely removal of laundry from the washer and prompt drying. But now I have this to contend with:
In a house full of soft beds, couches, chairs, pillows, and people, Gemini prefers the cold metal of the dryer.
He's a tough guy, you know? But I need to doublecheck each time I dry a load, lest I tumble dry the kitty.I'm still working on the Super Secret project, but I had a little time to work on the Phildar tank.
This is the tank I made without realizing that the halter part of it necessitated ordering a special accessory piece from Phildar. So I'm improvising with an i-cord. I think it'll be okay. Hopefully it will still be Chic Zen.
It's so hot out. I know everyone in Arizona and Iowa and Illinois and Ontario and New York is going through the same thing but . . . it is rilly hot.
These tomatoes were green on Saturday.
The farmer's market is filled with beautiful tomatoes, eggplants, blueberries, peppers, and on and on. I made baba ghanouj out of the eggplant we bought on Saturday, and now chowder from the potatoes and corn we bought.
Nothing like chowder on a hot day, huh? (That's the stock, by the way. Corn cobs generally do not belong in people food.)To pass some of these hot evenings, I've been watching this:
Oooh, they look evil on this package, with their blue eyes searing into you. But it's a great show. Excellent writing, great acting.Speaking of writing and acting, The Island did not do very well this weekend. In fact, it has the unmistakable whiff of a big ol' bomb. What's this? Did audiences not find the flying motorcycle compelling? Was all the exploding stuff too "brainy" and "intellectual" for them? Did this Entertainment Weekly cover do the movie in? Very possibly.
I'm sure you've already seen it, but do be sure to check out Mr. Cupcakes's fantastic Skully sweater progress.
Looks like it's time to SHUT IT DOWN.
