...and chunks of crispy onion ring. The irony was so thick you could have spread it like creamery butter on a warm blueberry muffin.
I am in the midst of a four-day weekend. It's relaxing. I spent a good chunk of yesterday moving things around. We now have a reading room where our underutilized living room used to be. I put a bookcase, the old brown couch, and a reading lamp in one of the corners. I stocked the bookcase with my favorite books. I thought about how most of the books I buy now are e-books, and thought about whether I should put my kindle on the bookshelf too. I can't bear to think of physical books becoming obsolete, relegated to collector status like LPs. Maybe I can put up another shelf form my LPs and call it a museum.
Mook immediately claimed the corner as her new favorite spot. I should move some of her cat toys and a scratcher out there.
Yesterday's post was much more brief than I had planned. I was going to talk about those two watchers, and the wooden jar they watch over, which contains my grandfather's ashes (or the ones that we didn't scatter). As soon as I started to write, it all sounded wrong. Don't know why. Some days the words come so easily, and others they don't. Today is an in-between day.