There were storms all day long. (Is still storming!) They were accompanied by hail, thunder rolls, lightning and explosions. Yes, something else blew up in Katy; just up FM 529. The grounded little bird was joined by a sibling. I dashed across the squishy backyard to check on the little fella, and what to my wondering eyes appeared? I thought I had double vision. They could be twins, equally wet and frightened. Rain and lightning drove me back inside after my tossed dish towels failed to land on either of them. Is a good thing 'cause Mina took the little bird cage I'd stored in the garage. In the end, I gave over their care to Mom Nature.
Dodson, D. left me speechless with his largus copious, twinned with his power to retain lists of things hoped for--signs that Kim has raised him well. Not all men come by this gift of largesse and listening naturally. And, more married men than single men have it. We think . . . No, we women know that men really don't listen to us when we try to tell them what we want, when we need/want something specific, and should not have to ask for it, or remind them that they should know what we want. Heck, Dodson even surprised me. I didn't know that he knew how much I secretly pine for a bicycle. A bicycle with a basket. I mean, I can't ride one, so who knew I was serious about wanting one? The sensible side knows I can only look and wish for a long time. Right? I felt that way about a piggy bank, too, until I got one. Oh. And remember what I said about not letting a scalpel near my cervical spine? Well, that changed too. I'd have surgery tomorrow if I could. Can you imagine not writing because you cannot bend your neck? Or living in pain 24/7 because of a pinched nerve? See, God gave women the built-in ability to change our minds. Amen to that.
Moving on. Twin mails in twenty-four hours. That's all.
Necessity, a mother of inventions and supplements, gave birth to a triplet. Recovering people need lots of mail. Right?
Backtracking: Included with the beautiful notecards, notebook, stamp, and COASTERS, were the inks I ordered. I do like J. Herbin inks. The gray is stunning on stark white and cream. Does this make me your first customer, Dodson? *preen* I ordered ten canisters, but the other colors were either discontinued or on back order. Just remember this: Dodson delivers. And . . . Limner will do free commercials for businesses that deliver as promised. I must say this as well: Dodson, D. knows paper. If you can, order a set of coasters with your notecards. They're pretty, they're great conversation pieces, and they just might save your desk's finish.
This is just funny. I have to substitute cat hair for dog, and wiry hair from the goat hair serape, but someone knows the necessary warnings that are common to letter-writers.
See what I mean? I had to choose between this and the bee. I chose the bee. This paper makes you feel like you're a Rockefella with a gold umbrella. Beautiful. Rich. Loves ink.
If I could have another chance, I would become a printer. I am fond of words, fonts, colors and inks. This was one of the gifts earmarked for the last give-away, but I broke under the strain. I wanted these for myself. That little snail mail stamp just wants to be used! I have something special planned for it. Thank you again, Dodson. I finally have one. Too lazy to draw my own? Well, kinda. So yours is extra special.
It never fails. I don't draw well under certain circumstances. Know what I mean? Colors tend to muddy. I struggle with anatomy. Words don't come the way they should. My attention span does not span. It spins inward on itself. Thank goodness for do-overs, huh? I think this guy has potential.
Am off to investigate George Stanley. Buenas noches mi fellow Americanos.