out of the blues

A dash to the store for gloves. recalling there was no fabric soften. squeezing the boxes. sniffing the flavors.

The memory of the smell of a load of warm, dry towels he dropped in my lap opened a mile-wide chasm of missing him.

He used to watch me do this magic from the couch. Come out to see what was making me smile. Smile with me.

Tease me for purple fingers.

There's magic in memory, too.

.

July 4th

Sweetie dumped over my tray of dirty threads this morning, obliterating my (dumb) identification system.

This batch is bereft of blue/green/ and purples anyway. When I finish the batch I'm prepping now, I'll come up with another harebrained scheme for getting everyone what they want.

I have to work the day job today. It's been a long time since I've worked on a holiday. So far so good, it's been quiet. The idiots are out blowing themselves up somewhere.  Don't feel bad for me. This morning there was pool time.

Art Archives Monday

Karma IV

milestones

He told me the numbers this morning. I can't believe it. Happy Birthday, Colin. Here he is passing on the gaming gene to Charlie.