Everything becomes more interesting when your procrastinating. I can't stop thinking about cornichons, what to make for dinner next sunday, the concept of fault, where I could treat myself to a new blouse, and, if forced to eat cat food, whether I would prefer wet or dry. [dry]

In the fourth grade I realized my extraordinary ability to procrastinate. It was the night before the science fair and I was categorically f*@#ed. I had signed up for the INVENTIONS section, excluding the ever-popular pepsi-or-coke-taste-test project which saved the lives of many middle school procrastinators. What resulted after a day of wandering around the house tormenting the cats [an my little sister] was a spaghetti twirling fork involving and electric screw driver. Admittedly, some of my finest work has been done in the 11th hour.

Today, once again, I find myself honing this talent. We're making flowers [and a xmas tree] for a photo shoot tomorrow morning. I have yards of eucalyptus garland to spray paint (let along make) and many flowers to fix up. Eric sits here diligently wrapping soap while I search the internet for how to make an exploding volcano with baking soda. The cool kids always made volcanoes.


[Delivery from yesterday with guinea hens, fringed tulips, ranunculus, and some seeded euc.]