And let there be smokers.

Well.
Here I am again. I was talking on the phone today with Marge. We were talking about our normal crap things, and she was talking about how she hates the smell of people when they smoke. Now, Margarine and me have almost everything in common it's ridiculous, but I really like the smell of when people smoke, -especially pipes- I don't know how people really think it's such a bad smell. The reason I think I like it so much is because I remember this very distinct time, when I was five years old, in Germany. I was sitting on my Mom's great uncle's lap. (Uncle Gustav) and we were in this trolley, going up a mountain in the woods. It's this great touristy spot, and I remember the trolley being red, and I remember seeing my sisters a couple rows of chairs ahead of me, and the seats were really wooden and old... well, I remember that being just about the best time, right there. I had the best feeling of safety, and everything. So I was sitting there, cuddling in his lap, and had my head on his woolen vest. And I felt like a little red riding hood or something. Now how lame is that? But seriously, he had smoked pipes all of his life/drank the best beer in the world all his life, and you know, it was just about the greatest smell from him, (creepy eh?).

I have family from Germany through my Mom's Mom (Oma), who, when she was around 20 years old, she decided to go on a vacation to america for two weeks. She met my Grandpa (Opa) and decided to stay. So yeah.
Their family out there is a long history of Artist's for churches. They worked along side tons of famous painters in Germany. So, apparently I have "Artist Blood" in me. Which is absurd since I really can't do anything productive or pretty.
Well. That's it. I have nothing else to say. I didn't do anything today. SO there is the life of Evie's thoughts. Isn't it amazing?