You're bleaching your hair with colors from your dream

[sovay]

We spent the afternoon celebrating my niece's eighth birthday observed. There were bagels and lox and gleeful shrieking as she ran around with the twins in the featherily falling snow, which made a brief white Christmas of the yard. spatch has photographic evidence of the Silurian present we gave her and the two-toned cake my father decorated with marzipan, fondant, and pretzel sticks. The twins had gone all out and gifted her with a menagerie of mythological figurines including a pegasus, a dragon, and a unicorn, plus a Lovecraftian sort of uranium-orange stretchy equine fidget and a black-and-white cat "squishmelon" which she immediately buried her face in. The evening was slightly marred by a plague-scare, but a couple of negative rapid results later we are watching the first half-hour of The Unsuspected (1947), a kind of Gothic radio noir hosted by the gentle sadism of Claude Rains. And we will keep on being careful, because there is nothing else to do.

Comments

[thedarlingone]

"hosted by the gentle sadism of Claude Rains" -- I just said out loud to my phone, "God, there's never been a better description," and I thought I might say it where you can hear. :-)

[sovay]

"hosted by the gentle sadism of Claude Rains" -- I just said out loud to my phone, "God, there's never been a better description," and I thought I might say it where you can hear.

Thank you!