Day 476: Barbie Arms

Finger food

This made me cry. It's not sad. At all. This woman is just so GOOD at what she does, and that thing is singing. Singing often makes me cry a bit, but always happy crying or moved crying. No woe.

Every now and then...

Today was kind of eventful. I finished and sent my first Spanish translation, which I'm quite pleased with and I got another piece of work in from the same lady. Grateful for that and for work from one person and pay from another. My appreciation for both these events never falters. I've had times where I haven't made work work and work hasn't come in. I feel blessed when it does, and when people are happy with it and pay me. 

Tasty cake plate full of doll arms

So I worked, firstly in the Emporium, where the people working there were chatty and human and nice, and the fridge was a shouty motherfucker. It ended up being pleasing. I bought my lunch from a very cheap place, from a very Spanish lady (I've decided a Spanish boyfriend would be a Very Good Idea - know of any?*). Then I went to the Costa down Bond Street to plug in and top up my laptop. Done my business cards. Lost my business cards. Second time. I shall do better ones when I finally do get the buggers to work.

No words

Then to the library, but not before finally replacing my watch, for £9, with a bracelet watch AND a wind-up, old-fashioned nurse's watch (upside down, on a pin). I thought of my lovely friend Sarah Lonton, who would love Snooper's Paradise, where I got it. I photographed severed doll arms, heads and legs. I managed to avoid buying anything else. That reminds me, though. I saw a tiara made of Barbie arms at Secret Garden Party. Now there's a tiara I'd wear.

Teacup fingers

Something delighted me and made me laugh this afternoon. It was something I'd forgotten years ago, and saw again. All I remember is the warmth and sparkle of the recognition of a love of something from before. What it was escapes me as much as my reason for going into the hardware shop did earlier today. Gone. I walked in. I walked around. I walked out. It didn't come back till ages later, when I wrote it on my hand. I trust the delightful thing will come back. If not, tant pis. I enjoyed it in the moment.

My next internet dating profile pic.
Do Spaniards go for that?

Ace coffee stop with Dave. We chewed on the world. I felt informed, inspired and interested. I drank decaf (thanks to Jochen). Oh, there's no way I can do my weekend justice, but it must be mentioned. The deep joy and ease of an old friend. I loved my day with Jochen, then my evening and next day with Jochen and Geir. 

There were beaches, decaf coffees of all kinds, bike rides, French food on a sliding scale of goodness (from so good it actually hurt on Sunday night to 'move away from the canned goods' on Monday morning). There was cake that was definitely on Sunday night's level. A windmill was involved and some dramatic skies. Lots of laughter, some stone-throwing into a polystyrene cup, a Skype with Hollenbubbla and some repeated shoulder-flicking, in which I was no more than a puppet-master. It was FANTASTIC. There was also good news. 

Tonight, the sky was fat and heavy with rain, all dark and promisey. I love it when it's like that. I vow to live in a monsoon land at some point. Rain on me. I love it.  Rain on me some more. Let the drops be fat and fulsome and the sky be overtaken by it. Drizzle is a travesty unless you're in an actual cloud... then it's quite nice. Quite nice doesn't touch a proper, thorough raining-on, though. Doesn't touch the sides.

Not waving, but...

I cooked and ate a dhal the mere memory of which makes me quiver in anticipation of the next time I get to eat some of it again. Then I got down to mask-making with smooth, moist, red clay and a brain full of new techniques. Good chat with Rob. Bath. Time to sleep like it was my job. Let's DO this shit. 

* Not at any cost... a nice person, clever, exciting, grounded in himself, playful, hot-as-all-shit(to-me-anyway) etc... Spanish is a bonus.