One loaf of Gluten-free bread could solve all my problems

Garage sales are not lucrative in poor neighborhoods. Poor people go to wealthier neighborhoods to buy things they couldn't afford brand new. If you're willing to sell it in a poor neighborhood, people assume it's no longer got value. Trust me. My neighbor and I proved this on Saturday. Again.
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Storage is not at a premium in my attic... er... storage space. Desire to spend time in said attic storing things is at a premium. As in, it costs me a lot, mentally and emotionally, to psych myself into going up to the attic in August.
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Speaking of August, it occurred to me that the number of days until the temperatures in Dallas are bearable is fewer than the number of days that the temperature in Dallas has already been unbearable. And if that sentence makes no sense, try this... we're more than half way through summer. This, my friends, is always a moment to cherish; the point in every summer when you realize you're more than half way home......
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Saturday I went to the junk yard with Chihuahua to get a part for my car. It was the little knob that fits on the end of the gear selector in a 2003 Passat Wagon. We took one out of an old Jetta that matched mine exactly. You bring your own tools and pay for what you remove from the junked cars. I also got a tire - for my full-sized spare. I did not, however, buy a jack.
Anyway, it was way too hot for said adventure, but we did it anyway... me, sitting cross-legged inside the hulk of this junked out Jetta with no seats and not much else left in it. Chihuahua bent over at the waist, looking like a brand-new inmate at SingSing.
The part we got came with more pieces than I actually needed and it was more than I thought it would cost AND... we haven't installed it. Getting it out, seriously, was so damned difficult in a wrecked hulk with no seats, carpet, etc. that I am not even willing to attempt installation. I think I might just return the part. I believe I have 30 days to do it, but am going to ask Electric Chris to help me first. If he actually comes over tonight. And if I'm actually home.
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I did one of those silly survey's on the internet today. This one asked you to make a wish and then answer four questions and then if you forward the survey to X numbe of people by X day your wish will come true... I couldn't help myself... I wished for Mark to come home.
Now, he is supposed to come home Wednesday. But these things are never set in stone. And I am supposed to be focusing on other things (that's the deal I made with myself, anyway) but my wish just snuck in before I could wish something else.
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BTW, I'm not sure what I would do with Mark once I got him here... exactly... but I did have the sudden urge this morning to watch a whole bunch of James Bond flicks... all in a row. Now go figure that out.
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I made clam chowder yesterday. It was good. But not very clammy.
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Also, I have this sudden urge to create art... I think maybe oil paintings. But being able to draw would make me happy, too. I believe this stems from spending a week creating a website for the North Dallas Dog Rescue and actually being pleased with the results.
I wonder if a painting is ever actually done?
Maybe I could try photography. Maybe I should simply charge my damn camera and try actually taking a picture or two. The camera hasn't actually been in use since Big Red's funeral. And I love taking pictures. Really.
I will begin with tomorrow evening's rock climbing adventure. Then let's see if I can at least keep that up.
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I have been thinking lately that it is time to reconnect with learning. That I must stake a course and being to move forward. That waiting for a solid foundation from which to launch a dream is kind of like ocean-front construction... the sand never stops shifting. Just sink the pilings/piers in deep and get going. I give myself permission to start looking for places to sink the piers.
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Which reminds me that I would really, really, really like to own a boat. Or two.
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Which reminds me of Dan. And I hope he's still coming to visit soon.
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Which reminds me that I could be engaged to someone whom the US government forced to remain overseas, even though said intended has no criminal record and the citizenship of a US-allied country.
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And that reminds me that there is much. MUCH. that I could be complaining about on the political front. I could be so much worse off. I could be poor in America. And that I am not.
Thank gods.