After the creative surge of November comes the dreaded deeps of midwinter, made somewhat better by there being more reflected light with all this snow. But I have the blahs right down to my toes. To quote a song I wrote a long time ago, “I feel like I’m swimming in glue”.
There’s only one thing to do:
Remiss of me in the Xtreme to not share this with the folks….
Peggy dubbed it Ingmar, and Ingmar it remains. Heinrich, Dr. Filk’s venerable old BMW touring bike, is being retired, as his starter is starting to get all swithery and cranky, in the not actually cranking, sense.
But be warned some of the pix are disturbing.
Lady Miss Banjola has found a veritable cornucopia of moose.
As she remarked, Moosily Yours. Oh, and try to find the pic that has the charming translated from the Russian tag Sometimes calves sleep in a very discomfortable pose (from our point of view)
Last night I dreamed that Paul and I confronted an antisemite, and Mr little weaselly guy ran through the whole range of arguments all based on the premise, “Jews is bad” and of course you can’t debate with somebody like that, just hope you can get through to their kids before they are entirely poisoned. At the end of the ‘debate’ for such it wasn’t, he pulled out a gun and said, “I don’t need facts when I got me one of these.” Paul and I had to jump off the architectural equivalent of a cliff to get away from him, and then I woke up.
That was a seriously weird dream.
loons misguided souls at creators.com have misplaced Molly Ivins, so she won’t show up in the blogroll because the link is broken. I will fix it when they do. Cazart!!!
Ginger chicken for lunch today, yyyum.
Alas, we did get snow, and it is still snowing.