*happy sigh*
Jul. 1st, 2006 12:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stillaneThis has been an unexpectedly wonderful day, in the way that nothing truly momentous happened, but what did was great.
I slept late, had the house to myself for the afternoon, and met my mom for dinner. Since I drove down alone, I got to have some quality time with the windows down and the radio up, just thrumming along. I miss motoring, sometimes.
We had sushi, which always makes my world better, and then moseyed on over to the mall. Mom got her hair done and I wandered the long and winding path of the shopper. The local purveyor of smelly things was having a sale; I wound up with a pair of candles and some very nice lotion (lotus fruit and clean linen for the candles, japanese cherry blossoms for the other). I found the totebag of my dreams a little farther on, along with a soft, slightly decorative t-shirt. Further excursions led me to a vendor who insisted on introducing me to the wonders of salts from the Dead Sea - and while they were indeed wonderful, I wasn't quite willing to cough up the associated dollars. End result, light and harmless flirtation in pursuit of a sale on his part, and some very soft hands on mine. Wait... that sounds wrong...
And the surprise delight of the evening: while grocerying (grocing? what, precisely, is the gerund-ish version of that one? hmm.), we encountered the pickled okra I've been craving for months! It's not exactly commonplace around here, so this was something of a feat. (I only got hooked on them in Wyoming, myself.) Tonight, though, I stocked up on the elusive little bastards while I had the chance. For those who haven't yet encountered them, they're a bit like a normal pickle, except the skin is tougher, the seeds are more numerous and smaller, and they're covered in a light fuzz. Yay for fuzzy pickles.
Now I'm home again, doing battle with the persistent pooch. He thinks I should play ball. I think I shouldn't. He's winning, but only by virtue of his diabolical scheme. He drops the ball in my lap, where it then migrates under the desk. If I don't retrieve it - and yes, I am fully aware of the irony there, especially given his breed - he barks. Since the rest of the house is asleep, this is a bad thing. Darn him and his selective cleverness.
There's a lazy moon in the sky and it's been a peaceful night. I'm off to bed - provided I can hide the toys successfully - but here's hoping your days were just as pleasant.
ETA: Apparently, 'grocerying' will get you 'crucifying' when you run a spell check. Huh. So... not the right term, I'm guessing. Also, vaguely disturbing.
We had sushi, which always makes my world better, and then moseyed on over to the mall. Mom got her hair done and I wandered the long and winding path of the shopper. The local purveyor of smelly things was having a sale; I wound up with a pair of candles and some very nice lotion (lotus fruit and clean linen for the candles, japanese cherry blossoms for the other). I found the totebag of my dreams a little farther on, along with a soft, slightly decorative t-shirt. Further excursions led me to a vendor who insisted on introducing me to the wonders of salts from the Dead Sea - and while they were indeed wonderful, I wasn't quite willing to cough up the associated dollars. End result, light and harmless flirtation in pursuit of a sale on his part, and some very soft hands on mine. Wait... that sounds wrong...
And the surprise delight of the evening: while grocerying (grocing? what, precisely, is the gerund-ish version of that one? hmm.), we encountered the pickled okra I've been craving for months! It's not exactly commonplace around here, so this was something of a feat. (I only got hooked on them in Wyoming, myself.) Tonight, though, I stocked up on the elusive little bastards while I had the chance. For those who haven't yet encountered them, they're a bit like a normal pickle, except the skin is tougher, the seeds are more numerous and smaller, and they're covered in a light fuzz. Yay for fuzzy pickles.
Now I'm home again, doing battle with the persistent pooch. He thinks I should play ball. I think I shouldn't. He's winning, but only by virtue of his diabolical scheme. He drops the ball in my lap, where it then migrates under the desk. If I don't retrieve it - and yes, I am fully aware of the irony there, especially given his breed - he barks. Since the rest of the house is asleep, this is a bad thing. Darn him and his selective cleverness.
There's a lazy moon in the sky and it's been a peaceful night. I'm off to bed - provided I can hide the toys successfully - but here's hoping your days were just as pleasant.
ETA: Apparently, 'grocerying' will get you 'crucifying' when you run a spell check. Huh. So... not the right term, I'm guessing. Also, vaguely disturbing.
