A day off. Hating work as much as I do does have one benefit: the simple act of not being there makes me nearly giddy. Last Monday I picked fruit, cooked, wandered around outside at midmorning - a time that I had forgotten existed (weekends don't count) due to being shackled to a desk at all times, freezing from artificial air-conditioning and being forced to listen to goddamn fucking Lady Gaga all day - and later visted my dad. I enjoy taking surreptitious photos in the house and of his things. I think the way he keeps house is amusing, weird. And I feel some need to document items and pictures that seem to be part of the makeup of my brain.
Those photos didn't turn out, though.
This flag hung in my great-grandmother's front room window all through WWII. It is supposed to be red, but the sun bleached it to pink. She had 6 children overseas at once and this as well as the fact that they had German POW's working their farm got her into Ripley's Believe it or Not. I have yet to take the time to track the article down.
It was kept for a lot of years in a ziploc freezer bag, shoved in a box in my grandma's spare room. I framed it a few years ago, carefully sewing it to the velveteen matboard & placing it under ~uv glass~ ... I miss this job. Sort of.
Here he is showing off his police-issue bulletproof vest. I think it is probably illegal for him to have it. Unfortunately, he had actual use for it in recent years.
The weather is incredible. I walked to the store for supplies for non-dairy chocolate chip cookies, threw open all the windows in the house, made said cookies (awful) painted my nails (awful) and am watching Carrington & wishing I was an old gay writer too.