(I've never actually read James Joyce.  I was turned off because all the "Advanced Placement" kids read it and they didn't impress me.)(Also, my brother read it during a rough time in his life and that's all I'll say about that.)

So, tonight is the Opening Reception for the art show.  I'm not super duper excited, because, really, I'm too self-absorbed to care about the art of others.  (Unless someone did some horses.  Or owls.  Or dogs.  Then I'll care.)  But I am sort of anticipatory about seeing my own work on the wall with the work of others.  I think that means something.  Like, I've arrived.  I already have plans to ask a stranger (assuming that D gets off work at his normal Wednesday time and isn't able to make it) take my photo next to my photos.  That's exciting, right?

Remember a couple weeks ago when I bought a cd off of a street vendor playing a banjo?  I just wanted to show what that case and cd looked like; it's been on repeat in the Subie since I got her back.

Flash wasn't friendly to the CD.  Love the majority of the songs.

Last night, I was able to make a stop at Target on the way home because D actually beat me there.  I was hoping to pick up a new calligraphy pen (no clue where mine wandered off to), but it looks like every other person in the city of Savannah had the same idea.  I guess instead of sloppy calligraphy, this year the joy will be sloppy hand lettering.  It's the Xmas spirit, y'all.

Then I went straight to the barn.  I'd planned on having a lunch break yesterday in which I could compile the flash cards that L. Williams shared with me, but.. alas.  I didn't get a break.  I think it was good for the Kid to not be messed with too much, anyways.  He was slow moving in the back end and, after I cleaned his little ankle cuts, he wanted nothing to do with me... but still wanted the cookies I had to offer.

Light over his stall.