Still awake. Listening to the crashing waves courtesy of the sound machine. It’s the most realistic of the assorted sounds available, and it is soothing. Almost time for hubs to get up. Might as well wait now and see him off before I try to attempt sleep. Knee still being a (literal) pain, along with the old pleurisy adhesions.
Meanwhile–it’s Guyday Friday! Whoo-hoo! I definitely need you this week, my tall dark and toothsome knight. Not that I don’t every week, every day.
Your intensity, your dogged determination, your passion, the sweet, tender side you rarely show, that vulnerability that still surfaces, that chivalric nature we see regarding your beloved–and yes, that gobsmacking beauty. I will never get over you. But then again, I don’t have to. You ARE So Not Dead.
And I totally agree with both sentiments, Sir Guy.
I will catch up with comments later, I hope you all have a great Guyday Friday wherever you are!
Minor crisis involving a dog, this time Seabee, who apparently got herself stuck somehow in the crawl space beneath the house. I heard what sounded like distress barks from dog and puppy and some sort of metallic thumping around 2:45 a.m. I went in search of a flashlight and a T-shirt and roused spouse just in case the bogeyman was out there, too.
Whilst I tried to calm the other dogs, Benny finally flushed out Seabee. He checked her over for injuries and found none. But the poor dog must have exerted herself mightily, as she was hassling heavily and drinking water as if she’d discovered an oasis in the scorching desert. We’d stayed with them until everyone seemed on an even keel.
It’s not hot, but it is very humid. I can feel the rain in the air and in my knee and now I’m fully awake again. *sigh*
Time for a little Richarding.
This screencapped image of Richard taken, I believe, from a video promoting The Hobbit prior to its theatrical release, has been on my mind.
There are a lot of things that appeal to me here. There’s that thoughtful downward look we all seem to like, combined with the beard (not universally liked, but looking very sharp to my eyes here) and the close-cropped hair showing off that nicely shaped noggin of his. I’m thinking his hair here is very close to its natural color, which appears to be brown with a reddish tint to it.
Love the thick fringe of fairish lashes and the glimpse of rosy pink lower lip, and the faint furrowing of the brow as if he’s musing over some pleasant subject. And, minus airbrushing, I can see the old chicken pox(?) scar on his forehead. For some reason I find that comforting. Perfect in his imperfections.
And now, I am going to return to my massive Bronte bio and then try to get some sleep. If only all will remain quiet on the (Southern) front . . .