![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellarienand came back with a brown one.
The grey umbrella, which I'd had for several years, was getting rather battered around the edges, but it was still annoying to realize I'd left it on the floor of the shuttle to Phoenix. The weather looked chancy enough today that I didn't want to risk coming home umbrella-less, so I settled for the only design available at the airport bookstore. Animal-skin prints are not really my style, but it'll do. In the end, the rain held off for my walk from the shuttle drop-off to the bus stop, but it was still reassuring to have a brolly in my hand.
The desert between Tucson and Phoenix is very green, and alive with yellow flowers. The general feeling, though, seems to be that it's about time we were done with the rain.
An elderly lady in the shuttle thought I had an "Eastern" accent, which may be the first time I've been accused of having any kind of American accent at all. I code-switch fairly well as far as idioms and vocabulary go, but my accent remains pretty much the northern-standard British one I grew up with, barely affected by twelve years in Birmingham, three in London and seven in Tucson.
I had a fairly odd dream last night. At one point I was under seige in a hotel room, and had to pick a few things to flee with; I ended up with the Bible my father willed me, his photograph, and a small CD with all my writing on it. Later it emerged that the important thing in the room was a china figurine of a lady in a pink dress, holding a baby. The hotel owner contacted me to let me know that the figurine turned out to belong to a lady who was very glad to have it back; she hadn't spoken to her husband since it was lost, and still wasn't speaking to him, but they still insisted on throwing a 'birthday party' for me. I turned up at the house, which had some very steep stairs, and talked with the husband, whose knees were so bad that he preferred to get around by swinging from the banisters. The couple had five identical android daughters, like life-sized Barbie dolls. We went in to a dining room, and the lady unbent towards her husband enough to ask him to read from the Bible, but there wasn't one in the room, so he started trying to read from something like a phone directory, with red and black ad panels. After a while, I slipped out to fetch my own Bible, but the house was big and complicated; by the time I got back the daughters had wandered off and were preparing to deactivate each other. I woke up before it got any more complicated.
The grey umbrella, which I'd had for several years, was getting rather battered around the edges, but it was still annoying to realize I'd left it on the floor of the shuttle to Phoenix. The weather looked chancy enough today that I didn't want to risk coming home umbrella-less, so I settled for the only design available at the airport bookstore. Animal-skin prints are not really my style, but it'll do. In the end, the rain held off for my walk from the shuttle drop-off to the bus stop, but it was still reassuring to have a brolly in my hand.
The desert between Tucson and Phoenix is very green, and alive with yellow flowers. The general feeling, though, seems to be that it's about time we were done with the rain.
An elderly lady in the shuttle thought I had an "Eastern" accent, which may be the first time I've been accused of having any kind of American accent at all. I code-switch fairly well as far as idioms and vocabulary go, but my accent remains pretty much the northern-standard British one I grew up with, barely affected by twelve years in Birmingham, three in London and seven in Tucson.
I had a fairly odd dream last night. At one point I was under seige in a hotel room, and had to pick a few things to flee with; I ended up with the Bible my father willed me, his photograph, and a small CD with all my writing on it. Later it emerged that the important thing in the room was a china figurine of a lady in a pink dress, holding a baby. The hotel owner contacted me to let me know that the figurine turned out to belong to a lady who was very glad to have it back; she hadn't spoken to her husband since it was lost, and still wasn't speaking to him, but they still insisted on throwing a 'birthday party' for me. I turned up at the house, which had some very steep stairs, and talked with the husband, whose knees were so bad that he preferred to get around by swinging from the banisters. The couple had five identical android daughters, like life-sized Barbie dolls. We went in to a dining room, and the lady unbent towards her husband enough to ask him to read from the Bible, but there wasn't one in the room, so he started trying to read from something like a phone directory, with red and black ad panels. After a while, I slipped out to fetch my own Bible, but the house was big and complicated; by the time I got back the daughters had wandered off and were preparing to deactivate each other. I woke up before it got any more complicated.