This poor little guy borrowed a book way ahead of his reading level. I feel pretty bad for him.
Here’s Libeary, India ink and watercolor on 9×12 watercolor paper.
“No sir, that boyish charm is not gonna get you out of this one,” she sternly replied. “Clean up this dang mess before I have to give you what for.”She couldn’t hold back any longer, and burst into laughter.
“See, I knew that charm would do the trick. Works every time!” Carl snagged a clean dishtowel from the cabinet beneath the sink and set the dripping colander of grapes in the sink before drying off the counter. He leaned in and kissed Connie on the cheek. “Sorry I forgot, babe.”
The water lapped against the side of the tub, waves crashing on a porcelain shore. She brought her foot back underneath the water, and it slopped over the edge, wetting the ancient blue bath towel she used as a rug there.
She turned her head to nestle her chin into the hollow of her shoulder. Slowly, her eyes began to close of their own accord. The chain lock rattled against her front door, and the sound caused her eyelids to fly open. She shot upright in the tub, gripping the sides until her knuckles turned white and her heart raced out of control. A voice, faint from distance and solid wood doors, called to her.
“Sorry, wrong apartment.”
Recognizing the voice as a frequent visitor of her neighbor’s, she relaxed back into the water, sliding down to the welcoming warmth. Her pulse slowed its pounding in her ears, and she lifted her right foot to plug the open mouth of the faucet with her big toe.
The suds were subsiding, and she felt around beneath herself for the cap of her disposable razor. She didn’t find it; she assumed that when she pulled the plug, it would be lost forever down the drain whose crosshairs had rusted away years ago. When she rose to grab her towel and the plug’s chain slipped through her fingers, she had already forgotten to watch for its journey into oblivion.
We attempted to go for a hike yesterday–more about that in a bit. First, we’ll have a little photo comparison.
A few months ago, I posted a photo from our hike on my last birthday:
Yesterday I was only able to get within about sixty feet of where I took that picture and stay dry.
It’s been a little wet here lately.
As for the attempt, we got about half a mile before I starting feeling…poorly. I tried to stick it out before I said anything, but eventually, I whined to Ian that I didn’t feel good. Shortly after that, he turned around and looked at me and promptly decided I would sit and he would go get the car, since we were near where the trail crosses the road.
I agreed, and Ian swapped sticks with me do is have his Snakebeater, which has a whistle on the top. Really, Ian, you should have known I’d pass out before whistling for help. Stubborn.
But then, both of us are stubborn.
Sure, I was a little sweaty and red and pale, but I don’t think I looked that bad. Only like it was about twenty degrees hotter than it actually was.
And I’ve obviously become more comfortable with selfies, since I took some while awaiting rescue. Also I drank much water.
This is from hiking on my birthday at Bodcau.
So here’s the deal. My good buddy Sarah is having a giveaway.
I decided to blog about it so as to have another entry. But see, I really want to win one of the two bobbles she’s giving away. So if you go enter too, my chances are worse. I think the best solution would be for you to go check out her awesome blog and everything, but leave the winning to me.
You’re right. That’s awfully selfish of me. Can we start over?
This awesome blogger Sarah is having a giveaway. Go check it out, and while you’re there, you may want to check out some of her other awesome posts about salt or killing snails (posts unrelated to each other).
I’m off for my final entry!