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The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher

A re-read. I really like this story, it's soothing and pretty and everyone says things like "Why, that's ever so terribly kind of you."

Bangkok 8, John Burdett

He's a cop! He's Buddhist! And he needs to avenge the death of his partner. This book can do no wrong.

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Shhh....don't tell the hopeful flowers it's only February.

Friday, February 11, 2005

JB got one of those newfangled cellphones that checks email, takes pictures, and generally makes a buzzing, vibrating nuisance of itself. I don't really approve of cellphones, mostly because of the alarming number of people who seem to have them surgically attached to their piehole-flapping heads, but I was awfully glad for its presence the other day at our local grocery store. For without its admittedly craptastic image capturing ability, I wouldn't be able to share this with you:

What you're seeing there are a bunch of novelty pillows, which probably started out their retail lives in far more hopeful circumstances, but after months of rotting on discount shelves somewhere, being snubbed by the teenage girls they were possibly meant for, were finally shipped in desperation to my neighborhood Quality Food Center to be displayed in the frozen food aisle. One of the pillows is shaped like a big pink pair of lips - a lovely and tasteful addition to any home, I'm sure - and yes, that is in fact a large sausage penetrating the pursed pucker of said lips. And no, shockingly enough it was not JB who arranged this fascinating scene, it was just...like that when we walked by.

I feel a great swelling of emotion when I look at this picture, a teary sort of love for my fellow man. That someone saw the pillow, then thought to take a sausage from the pepperoni-jerky-preserved-meat display nearby, and place the sausage, ever so carefully, in the position you see - well, I just have no words. Excuse me, I need a kleenex.

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