Lovelihood

Down at the garden boutique in our yuppie-centric mall (can't rag on it too much here, as it's where I spend a good chunk of my yuppie disposible income) I picked up a pair of glass bottles in a wire basket meant, I suppose, to cradle floral clippings. I haven't figured on a purpose for it yet, but battery-powed LEDs make as good a temporary filler as anything else.

A week after I started affixing hexagon to hexagon, progress really doesn't look like much, certainly not enough to cover a bed or even a place setting. Certainly not enough that I can begin thinking about replenishing my supply of ready-to-go hexagons. But there a few put together and the tedium of handwork hasn't quite gotten the better of me yet. So I'm keeping at it.

It's possible that before abandoning our patio furniture to the winter elements, we should have taken better care to protect the wood from disintegration.

It wasn't the sort of warm, sun-shiny day that begs for a trip to the park. But it wasn't altogether freezing, and no raindrops fell from the sky (and everything about Bear's demeanor mid-morning screamed that she could use some free-range time), so we went. Bear, facing no competition for the playground equipment, partook of everything, gleefully bouncing from one attraction to the next, always narrating, announcing her next move, and extending a hand with a "Follow me, Mami."

Experimented with an as-of-yet unproven V-day idea in the form of paper pulp and flower seeds. We shall see...

The best thing about having finished The Iliad on the bus today is knowing I don't have to do it again.

The Boy, not understanding the concept of elasticity as it relates to slingshots, tried to improvise one using my granny-seamstress measuring tape and the bottom rung of my chair. It was a worthy effort, one afforded by his newly-acquired shoelace-tying skills.