I took my daughter to the zoo today, and actually got TWO registered “Where’s George” bills as change. One was from Greensboro, not that far from the Asheboro zoo, but one had made it from Illinois in just 13 days. Pretty impressive.
I wish I had a where’s george stamp. I’ll bet my identity thief has one. Grumble grumble.
In case you were curious, after driving for an hour in a car with no air-conditioning to get to the zoo, my daughter says her favorite animal was the turtle. Which to my eye looked pretty much like the one we found in our back yard last week. Oh well.
It was a long, tiring day in hellish heat, so I’m off to bed. Sweet dreams of cool turtles, y’all!
This would look so beautiful across the top of my piano. The piano itself is a little spinet our family got second hand, its last place of residence being a jazz dive called “The Jungle Club” 40 years ago. My parents were friends with the owner, who lived across the street from us. They were a great couple of beatniks.
I was showing my husband how to take apart a piano about ten years ago, and opened up the bottom. There was a dessicated joint held between the strings, all eaten except for the paper. I guess it had been left there by someone who wanted a secret stash, but then forgot about it. Darned short-term memory loss. I assume it was from the club and not from my dad – at least, that’s what I choose to believe. There are cigarette burns on the top. There’s an oddly mildewed patch on the lower left. I don’t care, it’s the piano I had when I as a kid, and maybe the F sharp sticks a little, but it got me through practicing for competitions in high school, and I love it.
One day, maybe I’ll have time to make something to grace the top.
Someone over in the knitting community just got an antique sock knitting machine. Here’s what one does.
I desperately require one of these for my continued existence on this planet. You may leave it in a box on the front stoop. Thank you.