flax-golden
flax-golden tales: angel tech support (ATS)
angel tech support (ATS)
Anyone who finds out is usually surprised that angels need tech support, that it’s even a job. But that’s because we’re good at it.
You’d never know we’re here, that’s the point.
Have you ever seen a cherub? They’re chubby. Those fluffy little wings aren’t enough to keep them up, but they wouldn’t be as cute with a proper wingspan, so adjustments have to be made.
We have other ways to keep them airborne.
It’s all about appearances.
Miracles have to look miraculous.
No one wants to see the wires.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
miscellany
boring, with computer & kitten.
I have had this update window open for hours. I can’t decide if I have nothing to say or too much to boil down to a proper post.
I went from being crazy busy to not busy at all last week, so of course I managed to get a head cold. And now I’m busy again. I keep forgetting what day it is. I thought it was Wednesday for most of the morning, but apparently it is only Tuesday. That’s good, probably.
Here’s another view of Friday’s visual aid:
Shiny, shiny new MacBook Air. I keep thinking I’m going to put it down somewhere and lose it, it’s so skinny! Still getting used to it, but so far it’s been fabulous.
And now I’ve had this half-a-post in progress for several additional hours.
I might have to just face facts and admit that I am boring today. Or possibly this week. I am all to-do lists and Kleenex and learning about accounting. None of which makes for interesting blogging.
And the mailman neglected to pick up my outgoing mail. That is the height of excitement around here today, dear readers.
Here, in lieu of more interesting content, have a Tessa. She looks how I feel:
And she’s sitting on my book contract. Sigh.
flax-golden
flax-golden tales: frosted like cookies
frosted like cookies
He paints his roof every December, but no one ever sees it actually being painted. One chilly night the sun sets on shingles faded down to almost-bare wood, and the next morning it rises over a rainbow. A shock of color amongst the leafless trees.
They say he must hire painters, since he’s too old to manage it himself. If there are such things as nocturnal roof painters.
He never says how it’s done. He just smiles and offers any inquiring neighbors brightly frosted sugar cookies.
Each year it’s different. Puzzle pieces or patchwork or looping swirls, but always vibrant and cheerful.
Some people call it an eyesore, but I think it’s nice to see something so warm as the cold settles in.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.