she's crafty
oh, fart.

from the notebook

I was flipping through the notebook that I took with me to Austin. I wasn't actually looking for notes, mostly because I know that I almost never take any no matter how good my intentions my be. What I was looking for was a blank piece of paper on which to write a list of my current knitting projects.

Anyway, what I found was a scrap of note that I don't know that I'll ever be able to work into anything else and, so, rather than waste it because it does amuse me, I'll jam it in here. It's about the trash bin in the Atlanta airport. They are R2D2-sized (or, for the differently abled, just on the smallish size od a Dalek) and all black. When you toss something in they "rattle and shake like your trash is being devoured by a small monster or jets of flame. I just keep waiting for puffs of smoke. Kids stare at the things with mouths agape."

And there is your bit of whimsy for the day.

Oh? And the knitting list? Very long. Long enough that I hesitate to add anything to it, despite my desire to do so. Feh.


Uh-oh. I'm afraid my son would try to climb inside such a nifty bin.

On the subject of trash-talk, I'm pretty impressed by the new solar-power compactors that have replaced disgusting outdoor bins in parts of Boston.

Obviously, I'm easily impressed. :)

oh, go ahead and add to it. I promise 15 is not too many.

The thing about the bins is that they have a big grate across their openings. I don't think your son could get in there. I mean -- I'm sure he's wiggly and talented and all but the bars were pretty close together.

I do, however, want one of those solar-powered compactors.

And, Cass, if only it were only 15...

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