I also love the fact that the ball has its own kind of track marks, suggesting it tried to return of its own volition. Those marks reminded me of the mystery of Death Valley’s Sailing Stones.
Does exactly what it says on the tin.
I’m actually not sure what to make of it. Kind of looks like Beeman or Breeman. Maybe Brennan? Liz had done some research into the history of our house (and its prior owners/occupants), but I don’t think she found any names similar to this.
I’ve had some luck in re-using opened cans of Great Stuff foam. But lately, either I’m not closing them up fully or it’s this stuff just has an irrepressible need to expand. This is the second can I’ve discovered that’s morphed into some kind of abstract sculpture.
After work today, Liz and I spent a lot of time prepping the living room for our weekend demo. Not the ideal way to spend a Friday evening, but we’re back in house mode again… and this is what it involves.
Found this while cleaning yesterday. I don’t think this was ever redeemed, and I have to say I’m grateful to past me for putting an actual expiration date on this thing.
The couple had some kind of “emotional support animal” certificate, and their dog apparently had some kind of anxiety thing as well? To the point where they had Xanax for the dog? I’m not sure what the deal was.
Did someone get hurt? Are they ok? Did they decide they no longer needed the wheelchair, or that it was more hassle than it was worth? So many questions.
Walking to work today, Liz and I had a moment where we realized our adulthood: finding candy in the street, and resisting the urge to pick it up and eat it.
I can make out most of it, like Peter Rabit and Minecraft. And a few others I can kind of figure out (like Frosint is probably Frozen). But heck if I can figure out those two on the bottom row, far left.
Liz called me back to the yard, telling me she found “a really cool bug.” It took me a little while to spot it, though.
Finding the right size plug took a little while. But the moment I plugged in the camera, I heard a click from inside it – and I knew it was working.
Were they uncomfortable? No longer useful? Did something significant happen, to cause their removal and disposal? What caused someone to decide “I need to get rid of this, right here, right now”?
I flipped the heart over, thinking that maybe it was from a dog or cat collar, with either an inscription or some information on the back. I was surprised to find this.