I have a dream.

A dream that haunts me; so real that I can almost wrap my fingers around it, but that is still only a figment of my imagination.
I dream of the perfect mug.
It will be round and bulbous and big enough to hold two cups of coffee; It will have a lid on top so that I can brew tea in it. It will be thick to keep it's contents warm, and not quite so smooth that it feels like plastic. A faintly grainy texture, I think. The handle will be thin and rounded and out of the way, but big enough to slip a couple of fingers through. I can feel it in my hands, and it's absence makes my fingers itch.

...And now you know what I've been obsessing about lately. One day I'll get up the nerve to walk into one of those kitschy pottery shops downtown and ask if they could make it for me.

Not much else happening here. Mina had a fun birthday, we took everybody to eat at the 'Olive Oil Garden', as she calls it. She got a Dora doll in a fancy red dress and a LPS kitty from me & Pete. I also got her a tea rose and a shiny hat that says 'Birthday Girl' on it, which she wore the whole day. Random strangers were telling her happy birthday, which she enjoyed. We stopped by the mall to get the oil changed, and we found out that the book store was having a 70% off sale; Not much was left but we did get a copy of The BoxCar Children, a Tinkerbell novel, and a few picture books that they chose for themselves.
I've started The Black Tulip which I got for Christmas, and I love it. There's several pages of historical context added to the front, which I totally appreciate.

I'm going to go make tea and drink it from a dainty, inferior mug.