Just a brief swatch of thought

It is not the most pleasant thing that one can think of, coming home to find that one's faux fur throw has been used as a receptacle for an exodus of multiple hairballs. No, it is not.

It is more difficult to find clock gears and cogs than it is to find clocks, yet the daunting task of disemboweling a clock gives inspiration to go on searching for the gears...

Less than two weeks to go until the next Harry Potter movie! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!

When you wear a fedora out and about, people look at you. They don't want you to think they are looking, because they look away quickly as soon as you turn your eyes in their direction. I wonder why. I always smile at people who wear unique headgear, or makeup, or hairstyles... unless they are talking to themselves and shredding tissues while walking through the library. Then, I just smile on the inside.

I live on the south shore of the island. I drove to the north shore of the island to see an item I wanted to purchase for Bear's birthday. The arsewipe who was selling the item couldn't be bothered to tell me that the item was broken, had missing bits, was generally mistreated, and wasn't at all worth my trip. And then he had the ballocks to try and bully me into buying the thing after I politely excused myself and said I'd call him if I was interested! Wanker.

It was sunny today. This is noteworthy since 47 out of the last 50 days have been dismal and rainy. Oh - tonight, after Bear took me out to have some yummy sushi, guess what? We had a thunderstorm, with extra rain! Who'da thunkit?

The answer to the question that's been running around in your mind since you first started reading this post is: MarkAbre Charade. Still don't know what I'm on about? Let your fingers do the walking.

The latest doings at Thistlebright

Whisky treats from heaven, aka Scotland!!!

My friend from across the pond, also the author of the wonderful "Scotland for the Senses" and "Where There Are No Chickadees" blogs, sent me a veritable riot of WHISKY TREATS!

And now, a tour of said treats - starting just beneath the top hat and moving deosil (clockwise):

1. A lovely postcard from the Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow



2. A DVD featuring the history of whisky ( whose name comes from the Irish Gaelic uisce beatha and Scottish Gaelic uisge beatha, both meaning "water of life"). For those of you who never knew it, "whisky" is from Scotland, and "whiskey" is from Ireland and America.



3. Moving down towards 3 o'clock, we have the Whisky Toddy packet, whose yummy contents are to be enjoyed in future, most likely during the winter!



4. At six o'clock position is a pair of vintage spectacles my mother gave me - I just thought they'd look cool in the picture.

5. Next is a chocolate bar packaged in a box which bears the story of whisky! A delicious inspiration to learn more!



6. Perched delicately on top of the chocolate box is the smallest bottle of whisky you can buy - happily completely undetectable by customs shipping, as you cannot discern its weight or hear it sloshing when you shake the package. An added bonus is carrying on a wee bit of the outlaw portion of whisky's heritage.



7. Just to the right of the world's smallest bottle of whisky is a Glencairn glass - perfectly proportioned and sized for appreciating a fine single malt whisky!



8. And, last but certainly not least, just to the right of the Glencairn glass is a Dewar's portable whisky shot kit for four! Sure to be taken along to the Long Island Highland Games this August, as Bear and I will be bringing two of our friends along for their first "taste" of the games.




To my friend and benefactress of this fine bounty, I shout a hearty

SLAINTE!

End of an era

I never bought a single album he made.
I never went to one of his concerts.
I preferred the songs his little sister sang.
I was horrified by the systematic,
surgical destruction of his face.
I was disgusted by the sordid details of his personal life.
I was confused by his marriages,
and saddened by his increasingly apparent mental illness.

But damn, the man could dance.

Gearing up

Bear and I, along with our friends/tenants, are gearing up for the advent of the latest Harry Potter film (The Half Blood Prince) by watching the first five, catch-as-catch-can, before it comes out.

Last night we watched the second one, Chamber of Secrets, ate Greek chicken and roasted rosemary potatoes, and snacked on junk food. It was wonderful!

Only 23 more days to go.

Night of the Lepus, or my "Harvey" moment?

The other night, as I drove home from work just past midnight, I was listening (as I always do) to one of my Harry Potter books on CD. It was a calm, temperate night, miraculously NOT raining, and I was almost home. I made several turns down small side streets as I neared my house, to avoid the late-night interminable traffic lights at the town intersections.



As I drove down one particularly cozy street, lined with small houses, my eye was drawn to the right side of the road, just by the curb.

Sitting there, very close together, were two of the largest rabbits I have ever seen in my life. One was grey and white, and the other was a dun color.

I made a mental note, "Hmm. Giant rabbits.", and drove on. For about ten feet.



Then my brain kicked in, and I slammed on the brakes. There is NO WAY that two rabbits of that size, and those non-wild-rabbit colors, belonged out on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Something was wrong with this picture.




I left my truck running in the middle of the street and got out. I walked back to the rabbits, who just sat there looking at me like I was the one out of place. They let me walk right up to them, but when I reached out my hand, they loped just out of my reach. I tried several times to get near enough to touch one, the whole time talking softly to them and looking around over my shoulders for the possible owner of these rabbits. The street remained deserted, except for several neighborhood cats wandering around (who looked more like kittens next to my long-eared friends), and the rabbits remained just out of my reach.




I don't know what I would have DONE with them if I could have gotten hold of them... they were so huge that I don't know if I could have wrestled one of them, let alone two, into my truck. And I'm not sure I'd have wanted two strange, very large rabbits in the cab of my truck with me while I was driving it. If I had put them in the bed of the truck, I have no doubt they would have jumped right out.


In any case, I never got to find out because the rabbits weren't about to let a stranger handle them. They loped away into the night, leaving me to scratch my head and wonder if I'd just been seeing things.

On returning home, the thought occurred to me: What if one of them was a male and the other was female?

This town may not be ready for the results.

In which I giggle hours afterward, perhaps days

I loved this movie, in a one-night-stand way, and if I can stop giggling long enough, I can sum the whole thing up in two words:

THE NARRATOR

Honestly, buy a bottle of your favorite wine, snuggle up with your honey and a few of your closest girlfriends, and watch this. *wink*