My apartment smelled of freshly chopped onions and baking bread earlier… now it’s nag champa.

Maybe going to swing by –

Discount Train & Hobby
211 E. Oakland Park Blvd.
Ft. Lauderdale, FL 33334

tomorrow… look for more terrain and paints to play with…perhaps find a way to prevent the odd Newt-hair from landing on freshly painted stuff. I can Newt-proof… but his hair turns up in the darndest places. I’m hoping that they have some decent o-scale models and maybe some more mixable acrylic paints.

“Stupidity” author busted for trying to pick up teen girl online – “We can’t be lovey-dovey in public,” stupidity expert James F. Welles explained to his online friend. “Bottom line, I’m committing a crime.” The author of “The Story of Stupidity and Understanding Stupidity” thought he was chatting with a 15-year-old girl, but it was actually a 40-year-old male detective at the keyboard. (Palm Beach Post)

Hm! Rachel’s now a successful photographer and has been shown internationally. I’m delighted… she’s quite a talent, and I’m sure she deserves the kudos. I still have some of her slides here…maybe I’ll scan them in at work and post them here, if we still have the capacity. I haven’t heard from her since ’98ish. It looks like she’s got a nice little life building with a guy / pet / home / marriage.

Newt shook off his “parachute-bag” just before the piccie was taken. He was on a big tear around the house, with the crinkly-toy in tow. you can see it starting to float to the ground behind him.

You are walking down a cracked inner city sidewalk. It is morning, slowly warming into a sunny day. You look up and yonder along the cement you see someone walking toward you. You are surprised to have perceived someone so far away. But, you keep walking, expecting nothing more than a friendly nod as you pass. He gets closer. You see he has a slight limp and shuffling gait, though he seems to be moving quickly. He is closer–a torn and stained suit jacket with tattered pants and bare feet. Closer–a mottled green and purple face, and slightly yellowed skin pinched back along his cheekbones. You and he are fifty yards apart. You, and an undead mockery of what was once alive are twenty yards apart. You approach on the notably empty path, no traffic on the road to the side. You nod. He waves, a pinky finger hanging loosely from a broken knuckle, and passes.

..

Brother’s a sleepyhead. I’m flyin’ solo to the ‘mat.

cool thing about tadpole shrimp on discovery. Super-Sea Monkeys!

off to make clean clothes, sheets and towels! until later, dear journal!

The Poetry Searcher – you can search by poem name, author, century* and country (It’s still growing, but will soon be a lovely reference site)

Hee hee… I like this guy’s custom clix on ebay… especially the caterpillar. Converted into Alice in Wonderland. I think that he could’ve spent a little more time on the Cheshire cat, though.

I’m just waiting for 10 to roll around so I can call my bro, and then trot off to the ‘mat. We’re going to send a little quality time together while doing chores. 🙂