Here's a very fat skull spider who I found had taken up residence above my kitchen counter last night. Aside from the fact that they're beautiful, I don't like to kill these because they eat all sorts of other things. Not fried tofu, though, because she shied away from the steam coming off the pan.
These days, I tend to alternate between Japanese food and boxty--potato pancakes from Northern Ireland--for dinner. Every now and then I get the urge to mix the two worlds and a few weeks ago I made boxty with daikon instead of potato.
There's Setsuko Hara looking envious. She needn't, though--the daikon made the boxty seem oddly hollow. I may try it with turnip.
There's a strange joy in going back to my routine meals after staying at the winery two days for my sister's wedding. The winery/resort I should say--it was a lovely place but you're a bit stranded out there among the vineyards with just a couple high priced restaurants. Their omelettes were good, though.
My sister had so many left over flowers from the wedding she was trying to give them away. She quickly put together this arrangement for me:
And gave me a separate bundle I've been using for my lapels all week:
I sure like pictures of me better when I have no head. I guess this calls for my Ichabod Crane icon.
Twitter Sonnet #739
Undesired tatami spills out the clock.
Floppy ties tell a story at random.
The new unlaced shoes can't use the old sock.
Miles and dusk start in easy tandem.
Omelette leads accrue rustled beeches neat.
Telephone teeth rains saturate the ball.
Rhythmic mummy masters masticate peat.
Orange was the wariest street cone of all.
Coal mousy minuets transform split hairs.
Normal ramparts impart archer presents.
When stale volumes of Eucharist break dares
We gods are paid twenty pounds in pheasants.
Happy kings fly giggling across the board.
Gold pawns are a horrific human hoard.