I am sick with the plague. It’s 72F outside, but I made vegetable soup, anyway. I figured it couldn’t hurt. I spiked it with a healthy glug of Szechuan sauce, so it would be spicy. And tomorrow it’s supposed to snow, so it will be nice to have leftovers.
(The white stuff on top is rough chopped garlic. Under the veggies is a bed of spinach, and under that is a frozen quart of homemade veggie stock. I just tossed everything in the crock pot until it turned into soup.)
Toasted sesame Ezekiel bread slathered with butter and honey. It’s what’s for dinner.
The weather forecast called for “abundant sunshine” today. I’m not complaining about the actual weather. It’s beautiful. But those cirrus clouds do not scream “abundant sunshine” to me.
Piglet hiding under a rug. Why? Only Piglet knows.
Why is it that the one time I get a decent shot of the dog yawning, my camera is in the wrong orientation. If I’d been shooting landscape, this wouldn’t have been so oddly cropped. Somehow, I’m sure this is all Piglet’s fault.
I just got off the phone with the vet, to schedule Franny’s annual exam. Next week will be the anniversary of me adopting her. Harriet died a few days before that, but I’d rather remember a happy occasion. It has been a loooong year, yo.
(Yes, he goes batshitcrazy for dog biscuits. He is weird, yo.)
One for me, one for you, one for me, one for you…
Polly
She’s soft and round and sweet, and she has the tiniest little meow you’ve ever heard.
A pamphlet from 1950, with information on what to do if someone drops an atomic bomb on your head. It was by far the most entertaining thing I saw all day.
red paper boat 