Sunday.

Today I had planned to get up early-ish and head to the Nasher museum in Dallas. Sculpture. I didn't get to sleep until early this morning and didn't wake until 1:30. Gave up on the museum.

In lieu of lovely photos of the sculpture I did not see:

























Yes. The turtles in the mall which houses the lovely store where I bought my new shiny. I couldn't get any good shots of the ducks. I'll try to remember to get a shot of the shiny in the sun. It's soooo beautiful. I have worn it every day.

Another recent purchase is a shirt with Jimmie Johnson's number on it. I like the way it fits, but... it's the first time I've ever had a piece of clothing that touts a celebrity. A band, yes. The Braves, well, a bear does s--t in the woods. Somehow it just feels so obvious, the embroidered 48. Like I'm a great poser pretending to be a part of the racing team. I know it's not different than the t-shirts folks wear with screen prints of their favorite driver or the basketball jerseys that are everywhere. Still, for me, it's weird.

It is a flattering shirt. Maybe I'm balking because (this thought just occured to me as I was walking to the fridge to get a cool beverage) this is my final step into NASCAR fandom. The wearing of the shirt, nay, simply owning the shirt, is making a commitment of sorts. Hmmm. It's late and my cool beverage is a chilled wine. I've not had alcohol in a while and it may be going to my head. Sort of that philosophical drunk phase, though I've finished but half a glass.

We'll see. There may soon be a photo of me in my new shirt.