Sanguinity alerted me to this photo of the laminator and workspace for making signs at the Westboro Baptist Church. “They have their own IPRC!” she said. I’m obscurely pleased by the idea of an anti-IPRC out there. Competitive laminating. Makes me want to make some zines.
(I should say that although Mr. Fred Phelps himself creeps me out, the WBC does not bother me. I don’t fear the group, and from my perspective it has served as training wheels for many, many embryonic activists who get outraged and can agree that being that mean to gays is a horrible thing. I am actually strangely fond of the WBC and wish the family well, though I am not sure what that looks like.)
On twitter today I mentioned that I like George Winston’s music, so maybe today is my day for unpopular opinions.
Sang and I split the last packet of our FuBonn ramen– Ve Wong Vegetarian Flavor. I didn’t have high expectations, so when I cut open the nondescript oil packet and found it was fragrant sesame oil, I perked up fast. The noodles were yellow and not too thick; the broth had seaweed scraps, my favorite. It also had carrot chunks, which make me think of Lipton Cup-a-Soup, and crumbs of fake-hamburger-style TVP, which Sang found gross. It’s not the One True Ramen, but the sesame and seaweed appealed to me enough that I’d include it in future assortments.
Today felt like a Friday, but tomorrow really is Friday. And the roof people expect to be done with our house tomorrow! I expect to be broke but happy.