My reward for all my sweat (besides all these boro beads) is another cold front. Can we have this every year? Pretty please?
bowlful of boro beads, 2014
As usual, the boro binge got off to a pretty sluggish start. This happens every time, even if only a few months pass between the binges. The work area is different, a lot more messy and much more hot. If I could ever learn to plan things better, I might manage to schedule these things for cooler months. Mom and I had dinner and pie Friday night and we put all these beads into sets for the long list of lovely ladies waiting for their turn to ravage them. Here are a couple of my personal favorites from past boro binges:
Melba: z-beads boro set from a few years ago
Colorblast Dots & Lines boro beads from several years ago
Meanwhile, I’m listening to:
The Knife: Shaking The Habitual
Click the pic for reviews and snippets.
Click the picture for more reviews and descriptions.
Here’s the sequence: Satya Sai Baba’s Nag Champa incense in the box (not burnt), then the rubber tire aisle at the locally owned tool store, then back to Nag Champa and something very ordinary, and frankly bland. I’m not a fan of the Bvlgari house because the staying power is very weak, and their entire line seems to have been designed purely with “office friendly” in mind. Black is my favorite out of all of them, but as much as I admire it for what it is, it’s just not one of my favorites. I have my eye on a couple of perfume books in hopes of training my snobby nose to make better distinctions than “tire aisle”.
And I’m reasonably sure a sizeable opossum has been waddling around in my basement for a while. The landlord left the board off of the wall to the other part of underneath the house when he replaced a pipe. Every once in a while I hear a ruckus under the bathroom floor, which is at the opposite end of the house as the basement. Then I saw its footprints in the mud when I looked in the basement to check on the rain leak. I told Mr. Sarah about it and he asked if he had to replace that board right then? I asked if he was scared, but I smiled knowingly and reassured him that I knew it was because it was still a bit wet in there, and he probably didn’t want to get chased around by a opossum in a muddy wet basement and end up with rabies on top of all of that.
He scoffed and looked at me and without even looking at the keyboard he typed in “possum and rabies” and I told him “you forgot the “o” before possum, and he said “SEE? It’s nearly impossible to get rabies from a opossum” and I said “why aren’t you in there RIGHT NOW, then?” Anyway, he still hasn’t set foot in that basement, but I haven’t heard a opossum party under the floor in a long while anyway. I guess this is what living in a nearly 100 year old house is like. I’m quite sure our junk is what’s holding this place together – we joke that when we move, the whole place will collapse.
Thanks for reading, I’m off to take photos, which will probably be an all-day affair.
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