WIP Wednesday

It's on now

Pulled this off my bookshelf (image from Amazon). It is impossible for me to try something new and not deep dive into the subject before dropping it completely and then moving on...

You should see the hobbies left behind me.

I had at one time five discarded upright pianos. I tore apart three, learned to play on another (like cat's screwing!), rebuilt one and turned another into a garden planter.

I have several terrible half finished quilts.

I have lots of woodworking tools.

Master of none, dabbler with passable works in some.

So, I will try to be nice to the English language and anyone who reads my dabbles. I don't expect perfection, but I would like to be kind to the written word.

And to those of you experienced, I'd love feedback or advice for a novice. Feel free to message me.

I'll give this new obsession a month. 🤣

Margo being cute - S1

Work the Problem.

Why is she dancing alone?! Get moving! Work out your problems on the dance floor!

I do believe he's lost.

reblog if Bill Adama doesn’t know where Earth is 🍷

I just wanna be cool like Margo. So, for your background listening. You know, for planning missions. To space.

Not quite her lane, but I'm working on it. I have in the past flirted with jazz, but dang it, I'm too easily influenced by my blorbos.

excellent work. He's just so gorgeous. Such a nice portfolio to wake to. 🤣

#SHORT QUEENS Quinta Brunson and Sabrina Carpenter during Quinta's opening monologue for Saturday Night Live | 3rd May, 2025

One of the biggest issues of moving to England as a person who is Ukrainian AND neurodivergent is not knowing how to answer the small talk question of "how are you", but today I was reminded that Ukrainian blessed me with the phrase that roughly translates as "living is hard but dying would be a pity" and can we please naturalise it so I can use it all day every day

Soft warm light filtered into their bedroom and illuminated Sergei stretched out in bed, reclined against the pillows with the weekend edition of the local paper.

Sergei contemplated their lazy Sunday morning with joy in his heart. As open and cloudless as the sky outside their window, he rejoiced in their time together. The woman he loved would be at his side in only a moment.

Margo interrupted his reverie when she entered the bedroom with two mugs of coffee. Sergei sat up smartly from the bed and lifted the blanket to allow Margo to slide back into the warmth under the covers with him.

Handing him his mug, Margo harrumphed when she saw the discarded section that featured news of the asteroid orbiting Mars. He set his mug aside and snatched the paper away from her, holding it out of her reach.

“Nyet, Margo,” he chided as Margo clicked her tongue, “Work can wait.” Sergei braced himself; Margo did not like to be handled.

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