the story of buttons

the other day, whilst successfully procrastinating, i decided to clean the lismore clay/ocre off my cosmetics bag (which has stained it for the past 3 months) when i peered inside the apparently empty bag, i found a french 2 euro cent piece. strange? not really i did have that bag with me on my trip to france. but it got me thinking, where the hell is my button collection?
i searched for (quite literally) hours and gave up thinking that i must have put it somewhere in my mums sewing room.
on searching for this photo of me dipping jo 20 mins later i found my button collection and have now moved it to a very quaint, heart-shaped tin that i got from a chocolatier in germany.
Moral: the tin needs more buttons (in the australian sense of the word, in case anyone thought that it was a badge collection) so if anyone finds/looks for/accidently pulls off/intentionally pulls off any buttons, i would gladly accept them.

also, farewell marty. i bid you "chalk" as you step out into the wide, consumerist world. GO CHARLESTOWN LIBRARY! oh, i cant wait till your 21st! neither can kiggles. we were talking about it over oysters yesterday.

and, i hereby propose that everyone take to lymeric writing. it's therepudic and simple. heres one i prepared earlier:
there was an old man named Snort
who was summoned to sit in the court
he yelled out, "Set!"
when the ball hit the net
(he was never a novice at sport).

ich freue mich auf's naechstes mal.
hatter.