the finger
i cut my finger when i was trying to cut the last part of the olive bread. fortunately the knife got stuck in my nail, otherwise i'd be a finger short now. why do i always do this? is there a special technique for cutting the last of things (bread, potatoes, tomatoes, carrots...) that i haven't heard about? or does everyone do like us: give the big "last piece" to the husband, who doesn't complain because he loves me (or doesn't want me to cut my fingers off because that would make me scream so loud)? because if there is no technique for this, it's about time for someone to invent it!

the bed
i'm painting the cheap ugly blocket bed, and it's starting to look really good. or... at least really ok. but: the cheap ugly painting it was painted in before is coming through the cheap nice paint i'm painting it with. why is that? i paint, and it looks good, and i paint somewhere else for a while, and i look back at where i just painted, and through the nice pale grey comes horrible horrible orange! not nice!

the doggy hotel
the pup and i went to visit a doggy "hotel" yesterday. we're thinking of checking him in there when we go to india. so while we are riding elephants, swimming in wholy rivers, walking on beaches, smelling spices, touching silk, looking at colours and eating in restaurants every day, the pup would get to spend two weeks locked up in a box in an old barn. all alone. maybe with a barking german shepherd in the box next to him, if he is lucky. sleeping alone. locked up in a box. cold and dark. and hungry. and all alone. having to fight with bears and wolfs to survive. and he is only a baby! maybe i shouldn't go to india?...or maybe i should. the pup seemed to like the hotel, and they had a little kitten named egil och eskil that he played with. and the girl managing the hotel seemed nice. maybe he will have the time of his life. or maybe he'll get scars for life, and will never ever trust me again...

the doggy dogs
the other day i met a lady who looked at me scornfully and told me she had dogs too. but her dogs where not a bit like my dogs. the difference was that her dogs were "real dogs, so to speak". "real dogs" meant that they were not allowed in the house or to go for walks with other people and dogs, but instead got to be locked up in the car. i think i prefer my fake dog, though. it warms my feet a lot better than the real ones :)

the eyebrows
they became black during the christmas holidays. i had started getting used to it. but. they have grows a little. and now it's obvious that their true colour is not really transparent. they are semi-transparent orange. not nice. what to do? paint them black again (and again and again) or let them grow out to be their natural orange selfs? why do things around me tend to be orange, by the way? i don't really like that colour...  ¶ 2:24 PM