Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Messing around with the fishies, still
Just started, and coming up nicely if I do say so myself. I don't know if this is a good idea or not. It is picky picky, and the actual image is not very large, and maybe it is better to do close-ups of the koi and the lily and the lily pads. Hell, I don't know. I started it, so I will keep picking away until it is something I think is worth looking at. Or not. The paper has two sides, you know. Meanwhile, back at the little yellow house, health seems to have rebounded now that Vitamin D is replenished. It has cooled down this evening, pleasant breeze coming in open door. The Punk is throwing toys all around the office floor and Pickle is hunkered down in her last bastion of solitude, the bed, which Punk still cannot get up onto under his own steam. He is wearing his soft harness, and has not shrugged it off completely, so it is fitting a tiny bit better, though his leg gets out of its hole a lot. It provides me with a convenient handle to grab him by, and he needs grabbing regularly. Huge box from Crate and Barrel on the table, new dinnerware, birthday gift from my daughter and her husband. Blessings, everywhere.