Beholder

Growing up in South Florida, I'd often see houses that had outdoor art. And by art, I mean "real" stuff, commissioned for a good hunk of change, not a cardboard cut out of an old lady's bloomer-clad bottom, though I saw a fair share of those as well. Anyway, half the time the real art would end up being a geometric sculpture plopped down, seemingly carelessly, on an obscenely well manicured carpet of grass. I was reminded of this this morning after I was violently dragged into the world of the waking by an incredibly cute five month old imp. And yes, I realize that my semi-cognizant state may have affected my mental acuities.


Discarded exercise ball or art? You decide. Several years ago I bought an exercise ball so ginormous that Shaq would find it too large for athletic use. After several aborted attempts at exercising with the thing, it was relegated to the basement and has been there ever since, which is actually years and is a nod to my hoarder tendencies. However. HOWEVER. It turns out humungo exercise balls are great toys for toddlers. SO HOARDER TENDENCIES PAY OFF. WOOT! Not the point though. LB was playing with the exercise ball and when she was done, the ball didn't get put away (i.e., wedged back into one of our outdoor chairs) and rolled away during the night. And it was this, the rolled away $10 exercise ball, that made me think of fancy schmancy uber yard art.

Hello?

I have many MANY halfway finished posts which have languished in a draft folder for quite sometime. I hope to cobble them together to say something intelligent, but until then ... I have knit one sock. One sock that is too large for my bambina, but not so large that she won't be wearing it.


Ta da! Also, I need a manicure.