Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s acquired during the week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as actually sitting down and creating genuine content.
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Sweet Child of Ours
Julia Child would have celebrated her 100th birthday this week.
Her life story is even more fascinating than her cooking skills and her talents for teaching generations of nervous television viewers to be unafraid in the kitchen.
She was absolutely one of a kind.
(thanks to Bobbi French for the Facebook link to this video)
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Fairy Garden, Revisited
Mom sent those images of her Fairy Garden that Dad and I couldn’t figure out how to access last week.
Creative and computer savvy—go, Mom!
If you look closely, you can see St. Francis of Assisi being hugged to death by mint.
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Home, Sweet Gnome
(Oh, sure, like you weren’t thinking it)
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From this angle, doesn’t it look like the frog is wearing a ceremonial headdress? ‘Cause that really wouldn’t surprise me a bit.
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We’re NASA and We Know It
I couldn’t resist one more parody of this song. Because it is a big deal, y’all.
(Thanks, Kev)
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A New Stage in the Journey
Rough edits on Pigeon are done and I’ve finished the last chapter. Onward to . . . fine editing? One hopes?
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The Cheese Stands Alone in Heliocentric Orbit
In this uncertain world, it’s good to be able to say, with scientific accuracy:
“Well, at least the Earth won’t fall into the sun today.”
Earful of Cider 
Oh my. The Fairy Garden. Oh oh oh. Where’s my Thumbelina doll when we need her??
Ask your parents—if they’re anything like mine, they’ll bring her over in a U-Haul with just a few other things. 🙂
Thanks for posting the photos. As of August 16, the plants have outgrown the scale of the other items. And now for a bit of trivial data. The statue (not shown) being overwhelmed by the mint is St. Fiacre not St.Francis. St Fiacre is the patron saint of gardeners, and strangely, of taxi drivers and people with hemorrhoids. I have the story of how that happened but won’t bore you with it here.
He was St. Francis when I left home—small robin in his hand and everything! Then again, Fiacre, would explain the over-affectionate foliage.
You’re welcome to write a guest post about the hemorrhoids, if you like. No one around here would mind.
I know the pigeon is not supposed to drive the bus, but is it okay for him to ride one?
As long as no one gives him a puppy and the chick doesn’t show up, it should be fine. I think.
OK. As long as someone is keeping an eye on the filthy bugger.
Not a bipolar sky rat fan? 🙂
I love your mom’s fairy garden! My mom used to put all sorts of ceramic figurines in large, wine shaped terrariums. She’d use long chopsticks to plant and had whole scenes going on. I still have the figurines. Years ago I found a little glass case at a thrift store and put them all in. They mean a lot to me.
How lovely, MSB!
When I was young, one of my favorite books was Miss Happiness and Miss Flower by Rumer Godden—it featured a Japanese dolls house set in a raised table-top garden with real plants. I tried to make one in a pie-pan, but it really wasn’t the same . . .