Asheville won an ugly game against Mayberry. We walked to a local party and stood around a bonfire before getting home after midnight. After a surprisingly long sleep, we woke up and hit the road for time-killing shopping. I'm putting together a grab bag for a high-school friend whose birthday is this weekend. I think wine and chocolate will spoil her enough. She's a mom and a wife, but I don't want to get her anything that relates only to those relationships. She needs a gift just for her.
We watched Vicky Christina Barcelona Saturday night. I can't believe I got Your Sister to a Woody Allen movie. She's ethically repulsed by him, yet this viewing was her idea. I wasn't complaining. It's a good film, and solidly in his wheelhouse: people get in their own way to finding happiness. Also, she declared her desire for Javier Bardem. I, on the other hand, remained unmoved by Scarlet Johannsen. Years of celebrity news coverage have instructed me to want her, but it doesn't take. We ended the night with a pile of doughnuts.
Our town is out of gasoline. It's a problem that's also spread into South Carolina and Tennessee. I still intend to drive down this weekend to visit Mom; she wants a computer -- her first -- and I'll make sure she gets one with all the bells and whistles she's looking for. I installed Windows XP on my old PC and hope to move its files over to the newer PC. Then I might donate the old PC to Your Sister's school. I want to get the newer portable hard drives and save a copy of all my computer files off the PC.
I pulled up almost all of the garden. The squash vines withered to a pallor, and the lone pumpkin couldn't develop any further. We chucked it. We saved what few corn cobs we could and ate them last night. We still have tomatoes and peppers growing.
My Sith apprentice killed Rancors last night. This game is brilliant.
Picture of the Day
Help me, SuperPig. You're my only hope.