I bought some bubbles this weekend.
I took a bottle and sat outside on Saturday afternoon, blowing lots and lots of bubbles and watching them drift away. There is something very calming about blowing bubbles.
Trying to blow the largest bubble you can without popping it. Trying to catch one after it starts meandering away, caught by the wind. Trying to blow a long, long stream of them, so many that you can't count them all.
I talked K into blowing some for the camera. I have discovered that K is a very. dramatic. person. I sit here and giggle at all the faces she makes. Since I am still editing, I will post more on another day and you can giggle too.
It's good to share giggles.
So I was on my way in to work this morning and I picked up a co-worker, LG. You can visit her at her lovely blog.
As we were walking in to the library, she exclaimed, "Oh no. Your skirt is torn!"
She runs up to me and shows me where the tear is along the bottom of the skirt. It is a flouncy, ruffled, tiered skirt. Tie-dyed blue and white. One of my favorites.
"Aaack! How did that happen? What do I do now?" I cried, as we walked in the door.
She thought she might have a needle and thread, but alas, she did not.
Hmmm. Think, think, think.
I looked around and spotted a stapler.
I looked at the tear, along the seam.
I looked at the stapler.
I looked at the tear.
I grabbed the stapler. Yup, I stapled my skirt. Super high tech, I am.
Just keeping it real, folks.