Car Stuff. And a Birthday.

Never will I own a Rolls Royce.  Never have I particularly wanted one.  And yet, I've always known it would have to be dark (preferably midnight) blue.  This morning at my psychiatrist's office, look what I parked next to:  

An SUV, not a Rolls, but that deep blue is so pretty, don't you think?

Another color-specific "dream": a 1972 Cougar,

in chocolate brown.  As long as I've liked this car, the shade of brown I have in mind has never been a stock color.  Now, though, there is a pick-up truck in the back of the neighborhood that is exactly what I've always wanted.

Also, either a white or a black MGB GT:

1969?  '70, '71?  Anyway, this would have been a poor investment.  I can't drive a stick.

Kind of a meh day.  I cleaned the glass doors on the front porch and the back.  I made and frosted a vanilla cake.  It's a disaster in every way but taste.

Yesterday, I made Potato and Chives bread.  The taste is good, but the texture is divine.  I'm guessing adding some cheese and/or bacon would take it up several notches.  I would like to know the amount of potato flakes that could be added to other recipes, if that texture is due to them.

My suspicion is that I say this each September 1st, but again

Happy Birthday Sir Barry.  80.

 

Stay Hopeful, Friends

 

Incoming

Mid-thunderstorm in Athens --- I keep getting ALERTS! on my phone about streets being flooded and seeking shelter IMMEDIATELY.  You should be aware and alert in bad weather, but the County Typist might need to take it down a notch.

I have been trying very hard to push through the discomfort in my fingers, making myself knit or color or cross-stitch daily.  It's only caused more discomfort, frankly.  Cross-stitching is the absolute worse.  Crocheting is extra uncomfortable.  Not craft-related, but putting earrings on is a flippin' nightmare.

One of the things I'm knitting is a garter stitch snood.  Does anyone else run into this problem: "Oh, it's only garter --- this will go by in a flash,"  then get soooooo bored with nothing but garter?  The same thing sometimes happens with stockinette, but not nearly as often.

Mine is black and grays.

Follow-Up

Like you do with any shock, you begin to settle down, and I guess that's where I am.  Then comes word that Tim Curry has also died.  We saw him on Broadway in "Spamalot," and he was delightful.  I've never been to a theater showing of "Rocky Horror," but my college roommate was a big fan, so I know a little bit.  We danced to "Time Warp" more than once in Monahan Hall.

One more little Dolly tidbit: she's going to be buried in the same cemetery where my parents are.  The same grounds, at least.  I think she'll be going into the mausoleum next to their plots.

This Can't Happen, Can It?

 Dolly shouldn't be allowed to die.

And Now for Something Ever So English

Clearly, they're at the same event, but Hugh's in full tuxedo, Ben in dress shirt and tie, Idris eschewing neckwear altogether.  Choices, I suppose.

This has not a thing to do with Englishness, but is still nice to look at.  New colored pencils all sharp and hopeful.

They don't have the aroma of crayons, but do have all the potential.

I made some egg bread today, and came across a baking term I'd never seen before.  The recipe called for me to "loosen" two eggs.  ?  I took it to mean "stir a little," or "beat slightly," but eggs out of their carton can claim to be loosed, right?  Letting them out of their shells, too.  I landed on running a fork through them a few times.  The loaf is still baking, so whether my assumption was correct is unclear.

As of this morning, I am down to two Abraham Lincoln books in my possession.  The only issue there is there is just enough room in the Lincoln Books Cabinet for one more.  Those books are squeezed in at all kinds of angles, taking up all the space I know how to empty (or fill.) It may wind up a rotation-type thing.  The shelving has been a delicate balance for a while;  I don't need the entryway to look like a library exploded.

 

Words

I've strongly self-identified as an Aquarius since I learned what an Aquarius is.  In all my years, I have never seen or heard Aquarians referred to as anything but that.  Until today.

AQUAS?

Why am I taking this as a personal affront?

Today's biggest plan was to give Tap a bath.  It got done, and he has been snoring up under my feet since.  It's exhausting to be bathed, apparently.

This is me looking down at his left hindquarter.   He's always very curly after his baths.  Twinnie called him "woolly" once, and you can see why.