shit, drie per dag

I like Mr. Obama as much as the next young liberal lassie out there, but why his staff has not gotten Bob the Builder to endorse him, I cannot understand.



WWBTBS?
. . .

[p.s. If you google Bob the Builder and Barack Obama, you will quickly discover that I am not the first to notice the similarity.]

mountains levelled

(This is mostly an excuse to use the webdings font.)
Mountain #1: the recycling in my laundry room. a
Mountain #2: thank you notes. a
Mountain #3: dirty dishes. a
Mountain #4: laundry. l
Mountain #5: the dining room table.a (mostly)

I'm slowly spanking this place into shape. My birthday provided a lot of inspiration, actually. Among the wondrous bounty I received are a painting, two framed photographs, and a big map plus I bought myself a birthday painting too. They need hanging, and it seems shameful to hang them in the box of clutter that is my house. I'm really truly attempting to clear out some of that silly detritus (a nod to MVA and the faraway days at 7 College Ave.) that I've been hauling and storing for years and years. I'll never be a minimalist, but I can try to avoid being trashist too. I'm too tired to think of what kind of ist that leaves me. Maybe a goodist?

. . .

goals

If all goes as planned tomorrow, I will have a new friend. Maybe you will too. Keep yr eyes peeled.

Unrelatedly, I'm going to my first county bar association party tomorrow. I'm not the best at these see and be seen, greet and be greeted, schmooze and be schmoozed sorts of events. I hope to escape without being elected to anything.

I enjoy this photograph from the NYT. RIP Mr. Pavarotti, you juicy old man.


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