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     The toilet paper (or tissue paper if you're delicate) core collection started some years ago.   About fifteen years ago, for Christmas, our oldest grandson gave us (at the behest of his mother)  the garden statue of a boy with a bird.  Shane A. didn't think we would want it and was embarrassed about giving it, but what could he do? -- His mother thought it was a great idea or at least thought it was an adequate idea.  And Shane was right, the statue wasn't to our taste, but what could we do?  One certainly doesn't dis a Christmas present, particularly one from a six year old, so we stuck it in the downstairs bathroom until we could figure out a place for it.  After a few weeks, I added white and pupils to the statue's eyes so it appeared to be looking at a person who was sitting doing his or her business.
   After a few more weeks dw and I started decorating the statue by bandaging it with paper, making a hat from a paper roll,  giving it a paper scarf and so on.  At one point someone (I think it was Dan -- younger son) who gave it the leggings.  Following a period of increasing escalation and saving the paper cores for later inspiration, we started noting the date, time, weather  and anything of interest on each roll core as it appeared.  For a time we just stacked the cores until a year ago when we started hanging them.   It should be noted that any legitimate use for the actual paper is fair.  It needn't be of a scatological nature.  (I got to label one core when I used the paper to wipe off an oil-paint brush)  Some of our friends think we should get out more. 

   Yesterday was my birthday (Hurrah, Happy Birthday to Me!) and dw surprised me with a present.  We don't ordinarily do much for birthdays, a card and a "Happy Birthday"  (and if anyone is feeling sarcastic:  "You're how old now?  Wow!!") commonly is the extent of the celebration.  So the gift -- discovered when I went to get milk for my morning coffee -- was quite a surprise.  Now, as a creamer it's sort of gross, and it drips so it really needs a very tiny nursing bra but I think it's great.  dw knows and shares my taste for the outre'.  (It's made by a local potter -- Mudshark Studios)
   And in the afternoon we met friends for light dinner -- Largely for a going away dinner as they're leaving for their annual half-year sojourn teaching at Stanford.  A pleasant day.

   The house painting is coming along.  The actual painting has started and the end is in sight if still a ways away.  

   Books:  "Life" (Keith Richards with James Fox)  It's to his credit that Richards gives prominent credit to Fox.  Usually celebrities like to pretend they actually wrote their autobiography.  The book starts with an account of his arrest in Arkansas for drug possession (he beat the rap) and I feared the worst.  I think a chronicle of "I get drunk and do drugs and therefore I'm wonderful" is really boring.  But Richards doesn't take that path.  Periodically he mentions using drugs but it isn't the center of his story.  I'm finding it very interesting  -- it's mostly a tale of how he came to music and how he keeps working at and exploring music.  I've always liked the Stones, but I think even a non-fan, if interested in how an artist works, would find the book interesting.  -- An irrelevant aside:  the copy I'm reading is a library book -- large print edition (it was the only copy available) Large print -- you could get carpal tunnel from having to turn the pages so often.    DA