Awards

From AwardPost

Thank You Pagan

From AwardPost

Thank You Jood

From AwardPost

Thank You Daryl - and she designed it herself!!

From AwardPost

Thank You Daryl - Again!!

From AwardPost

Thank You Mary/the teach

From AwardPost

Thank You Kimmie


Thank You Queen Size Funny Bone


Thank You Ivanhoe


Thank You Charlene


Thank You Chuck


Thank You Jeni


Thank You Sparkling Red


Thank You Mary


Thank You Mary & Shelly


Thank You Roger & Co.


In Celebration of Ivanhoe's 100th Post


Thank You Raven


Thank You Jeni & Pagan


Thank You Matt-Man


Thank You Jeff B


Cheers to Everyone at YJKOBT


Thank You Bobbie


Thank You Bobbie (again!)


Thank You Jo


Thank You Raven


Thank You tt


From Claudia to the Everyday Kindness Community


Thank You Jeni (again and again!)


Cause Leighann Said So ...


First Award - Thank You Jeni


Just for Participating - How Cool is That
Thank You Roger & Co.

Creative Photography: Hanging On

I've always noticed how the gate leading to my back yard will be soaking wet for hours after a storm but I never really looked. This is what I love about photography - it encourages looking.

We had a huge storm here Sunday. Thunder and lightening - and wind and power outages. Oh My!

When it calmed down I went outside to check on things and took my camera. I was just about to grab the gate by its upper beam when I looked at the row of raindrops and saw them for the first time.

I gingerly pushed the gate to the side of the house so it would be against a plain background and then took a million shots. This is the only one I liked. I blurred it around Mama Raindrop and then I softened the stark white of the house.

I love how she's hanging on.

Please visit CREATIVE PHOTOGRAPHY - every week new people enter and the art just gets more and more wonderful. And consider grabbing a camera and looking at things differently yourself. It's like two therapy sessions and it's free.

Ruby Tuesday: Bike Park

It's Tuesday so that means it's time for Ruby Tuesday. Isn't it clever how that works out.

Go over to 'Work of the Poet' to see more RED

This bike rack sits near the entrance to a park.

Tales of Two Kitties - Intro

The post below shows Mia and Siren together - kind of, sort of. For them it's together.

They are sharing space and time without any bars between them.

Tolerance is pretty much the name of the game and that's fine. They occasionally fight - this is mostly Mia swiping blindly at Siren's face as he dodges her claws and cries. I swear his cry sounds like "why?, why?".

Mia will ignore him as long as he keeps his distance. If Siren comes too close he will be warned by very loud hissing.

We think Mia is deaf. She does not respond to sound. I stand right behind her and clap my hands and she doesn't turn around. Siren watches her walk down the hall and she is only aware of him when he comes within smelling distance. I enter the room and she only looks at me if I shake the bed or come into view.

Her regular vet is on vacation. I'll have her checked when he's back. It's not critical and if she is deaf then it is just one more reason why I'm glad she found me. I'll make sure she's comfy and safe and Siren will put up with her.

Sorry about the slideshow being in a separate post - again!! Photobucket html code is not working for me - again!! I installed Picasa but I hate the way captions look in their slideshow and I didn't feel like playing around anymore.

I'm learning a new Unix program, Photoshop, Picasa and I just upgraded my data entry software. I am too old for all this.

Tales of Two Kitties - Slideshow

How Much Is That Wordzzle In The Window ...

The days fly by and it is once more Wordzzle Day. Please stop by RAVEN’S NEST and check out the other stories. And think about trying it yourself, it’s fun and keeps the brain cells healthy.

Ten Word Challenge : follow-up, buffalo wings, silversmith, furniture, as the crow flies, little red roadster, photograph, pencil pusher, argument, streaking

Mini Challenge: Ireland, mashed potatoes, book worm, fog horn, T.S. Eliot

Finola’s Mega Story continues …

Ireland Silversmith stood in the tiny window of the giant luxury RV. As much as she adored traveling with the love of her life cooking in one of these things was a challenge. She had to move the spicy buffalo wings over to the sofa in order to have enough room to season the mashed potatoes. Thank goodness the RV was big enough to hold all the furniture she required to be functional and comfortable.

“Lovee, are you out there?” Ireland was positive she had seen his shadow pass between two trees a few feet from their camp ground. “Lovee, don’t make me keep bellowing like a fog horn” Ireland tried not to be annoyed; she didn’t want to have an argument right before dinner. Her husband was a good man. He worked hard, always put her first and was exceptionally kind. Ireland had never before known anyone so complex – he was an accountant but hardly a pencil pusher, he was a book worm who also delighted in racing around the narrow streets of their home town in his little red roadster. The night they met he had nearly run her over. Ireland chuckled at the thought of how that evening started with her streaking across the road fearing for her life and ended with Lovee reading T.S. Eliot to her at a small café. Later that night they walked along the river and then posed for their photograph at a little booth. That photo leaned against the window frame facing Ireland right now.

“Lovee, it’s almost time to eat, I …” Ireland stopped dead in her tracks. Lovee was walking across the clearing towards her carrying a cardboard box. Beside him was a young woman who looked frightened and angry. “Hey darlin’ do we have enough wings for three?” Ireland had to laugh at how matter of fact Lovee was. Nothing daunted him. “Ireland, remember when the police stopped us on the main road, claimed to be doing a routine follow-up. Well I think I found the follow-up” The young woman spoke for the first time. “I just need to get to Stonepoint” she said angrily. “My car broke down but I’m pretty sure I can get there on foot”. Lovee laughed. “On foot, really child what are you thinking, Stonepoint is miles and miles from here, and that’s as the crow flies. It’s even farther away for little feet like yours”.

Finola was not pleased with this development but she was hungry.

My 10 word:

The paparazzi all swarmed around the little red roadster as the lead singer of Silversmith jumped out. His pencil pusher assistant and his fast talker publicist struggled to keep up with him as he went streaking across the parking lot into the back entrance of ‘As the Crow Flies’ – Red Bank’s newest hot spot. The assistant tried to carry a giant bucket of buffalo wings and 6 cell phones without crashing into the fancy glass furniture. The publicist tried to grab the singer long enough to convince him to pose for a photograph with the club’s owner. “The papers will all want a follow-up to the photo” she screeched. “I won’t get into an argument about this” the singer snapped without breaking stride. “I’m here to get drunk and get laid and you’re here to see that it happens”.

My mini:

Frodo Fog Horn Finkledork was damned if he was going to spend the rest of his days as a lonely book worm; sitting in his tiny flat eating soggy fish cakes and runny mashed potatoes. He packed up his T.S. Eliot collection and headed for the docks. He was going to Ireland to be a boxer.

If you would like to catch up with Finola ...
POOR FINOLA’S BEGINNING
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE

Take That Sister!

When I was in Catholic school the Sisters truly didn't like me.

Sister Dominique Dominatrix hated that I was always making the other kids laugh, especially during those times when she was trying to intimidate them.

Sister Bertha Bloodletter referred to me as someone who "should learn to keep her comments to herself".

I often found myself in the office of the school principal Sister Agnes Mary Margaret Margaret Mary Margaret Mary. It was there that I was inspired to greatness by sound advice from this pillar of childhood education. A few of her gems were - "Don't think for yourself - think what we tell you to think" - "Children should never question" and my favorite "A willful sarcastic child will go straight to hell".

Well sisters - nah nah na nah na nah. I still can't bring myself to curse at a nun - use your imagination.

My lovely friend Mary/the Teach gave me these two awards - I know! 2 in 1 - how cool is that!

One is for making her smile
One is for not keeping my comments to myself


Bless Ya Mary.

I'm going to pass these on to ...

Bob-kat - who always takes the time to let me know my comment was appreciated.

Jay Man - can manage to get to the heart of a post with one sentence. His delivery is always spot on - makes me laugh every time.

CG - should be cloned as every comedian's perfect audience member! She always delights in my silly comments and always lets me know I made her smile.

Lisa – Rambling Villas Girl - my warm hearted friend from "down dah pawkway". She leaves lovely comments where she openly shares how my post made her feel.

and last but not least - and I have no idea why I chose five - I could have kept going forever ...

Ron - my newest buddy. Ron is so enthusiastic that I can't help but feel good when I see he has commented and his wit is as twisted as mine - which makes me feel normal.

I hope you stop by all these lovely blogs and if you run across a nun today - give em a shout-out from me.

Creative Photography: Mural Walk

I took this shot last Wednesday while wandering around Red Bank, NJ. I couldn't believe I found a place to park and took it as a sign to stop and take some photos.

Red Bank is a beautiful town. This shot was taken at a park that overlooks the river. You can gaze upon the same views that Bruce and Bon Jovi are gazing at, from the other side of course.

The top level of the park's plaza has this incredible mural running along one entire side - half a city block long. I loved the colors of this patch of mural and the way the paving stones and lamp posts just lead up to and then blend with the mural.

Hope you like Red Bank - I'm happy with a few shots I took there so you'll probably being seeing more.

Please go by Creative Photography and check out all the other photographers.

See Ya Sophia ...

Scroll Down for Ruby Tuesday

Estelle Getty died today, just three days shy of her 85th birthday.

I thought Estelle’s passing deserved pause because of what she represented to so many people, especially women “of a certain age”.

Estelle made her first professional stage appearance when she was 47 years old. She was 62 when she took on the once in a lifetime role of Sophia on the sitcom ‘The Golden Girls’. She took the part of a tiny, tough talking Italian Mama from Brooklyn and turned it into legend. Her timing was impeccable, her body language astonishing. Estelle spent close to 10 years playing a woman 20 years her senior. It always looked real, it always felt genuine.

‘The Golden Girls’ still is today, 23 years after it premiered, the best sitcom about women. Certainly the best about women over 50. Four women who were strong, funny, capable and independent. They were sexy (Blanche), and soulful (Rose) and smart (Dorothy)- and Sophia held them all together. No need for chubby husbands to outwit, no wacky sidekicks at a crappy job, no ill behaved children to roll their eyes about. Just four real women.

I think the title of Estelle Getty’s auto-biography speaks to how she lived her life - If I Knew Then, What I Know Now. . . So What?

Always present in the moment until advanced dementia took its toll, and even then she was reported to be always laughing, always loving.

Peaceful Journey Estelle.

You can read more about Estelle Getty at HER OFFICIAL WEBSITE

The photo of Estelle came from the NY Times
The Golden Girls shot came from cinemasource.com

Ruby Tuesday: Red Meds

I love the way the top of the bottle looks. I set this medicine bottle in the window and the separation of the liquid inside the red bottle just looked so cool.

Sure does look like something you should shake before taking!

Check out more RED

Project Black: Stayin' In the Shower All Day!

I just plain hate hot weather! The sun and humidity make me less than my usual perky self.

I wanted to do another one or two PROJECT BLACK posts before it was over. I took these bathroom shots the same day as the kitchen and then other stuff bumped them.

I did NOT style my bathroom before I shot it. A friend accused me of that when I asked her to help me weed 20+ photos down to these 4. I'm just neat. Plus this is the first bathroom I have ever had that is mine, mine, mine and just mine! It's small but it's mine.

In case you're wondering - the bathroom is mine! I don't share it with anyone. Well Siren sleeps on the bathmat sometimes but that's OK. He doesn't leave the seat up and he doesn't shed in the shower.

I'm hoping to catch up with all the other PB'ers later today.

In the Heat of the Wordzzle

Man it’s almost too hot to think. The sun is relentless and the hum-did-ahh-tee is making me cranky! Nothing like a long, cool Wordzzle to cheer ya right up. Stop by RAVEN’S NEST and check out this word game and the other participants.

We continue Finola’s story. Links to previous posts are at the bottom.

Ten Word Challenge : cardboard box, liquor cabinet, ostrich feathers, longitudinal, hamburger helper, partnership, laundry detergent, magnificent, San Francisco, prognosis

And the Mini Challenge: worst case scenario, marginalia, water fountain, specialized, fortitude

Finola reminded herself that she was, as one of the few positive notes in her permanent record suggested, “A girl of immense fortitude”. The worst case scenario was that she would walk to Stonepoint. She had abandoned the ATV about a mile back and the prognosis for finding a new vehicle was grim. “Maybe I’m just getting tired” she mumbled to herself. The cardboard box full of her meager possessions was getting heavy and the early morning sun was very bright and hot. She decided to rest a bit and settled down under a huge tree, the cool ground felt wonderful. “Wouldn’t it be magnificent if a water fountain would spring up right here” Finola whispered to the tree.

“And if you’re goin’ to San Francisco, be sure to wear some ostrich feathers there”. Finola sat bolt upright. “It’s flowers in your hair” said a sweet female voice. “I know” the singing voice said, “but I’ve been browsing in the liquor cabinet and you know what happens when I go browsing”. The sweet female voice had an even kinder sounding laugh. Finola struggled to decide if she was awake or dreaming. The shadows around the tree were long; the sun was not nearly as bright. “Oh crap”, she said out loud and immediately covered her mouth with her shaking hand. She had to get out of there before these people discovered her.

“Are you reading the partnership papers?” sweet voice asked. There was silence. “Honey?” More silence. Finola hoped that meant they were going inside, wherever inside was, she hadn’t noticed any homes. How could she be so careless! “Hey babe, the papers need to be signed by Monday”. Finola heard singing man chuckle. “I know, it’s only Saturday, so much can change by Monday”. Finola struggled to quietly pick up her belongings, every sound seemed exaggerated. “Damn!” shouted sweet voice. Finola nearly fainted. “I dropped the laundry detergent on my toe, why do we need to buy everything in the ganormous size?” Another deep melodic chuckle from singing voice, “Oh darlin’ you know I specialize in the meat and marginalia of American economics”. Sweet voice tried to sound annoyed. “I don’t know anything about economics dear, especially its meaty genitalia, all I know is nobody needs this much detergent and what the hell is the deal with a case of Hamburger Helper? We don’t eat meat”. Finola felt herself relax as she followed their banter. They sounded so nice, so loving. “Hamburger Helper needs meat!?” singing voice sounded so perplexed that Finola had to stifle a giggle. “I thought it was for folks who need help avoiding hamburger; you know my longitudinal thought waves get all screwed up at Sam’s Club”. Finola tried to balance her cardboard box and tiptoe at the same time. As comforting as hearing other people was she could not let herself be discovered. She moved quickly and quietly, tree to tree, until she came to a clearing. Now what, she despaired; if she could see sweet voice and singing voice then they could see her.

POOR FINOLA’S BEGINNING
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR

In Honor of Uncle Lee

"We were raised by wolves."

Every family has favorite lines, those things that someone said at a party, at Thanksgiving dinner, during a drunken wedding toast. These lines get repeated and eventually say so much to (and for) all those who were there the first time they were uttered.

At my sister’s wake people, well meaning I’m sure, kept asking why she had killed herself. I guess to find a way to wrap their minds around it or to simply have something to say. At one point my baby brother told one of the poor well meaning inquisitors …

"We were raised by wolves."

I fucking hate him for having sole credit for one of the best lines ever – in a family of sarcastic bastards no less. How dare he assume my role! I’m the oldest, I took the most crap, I should get all the best lines …

Actually I’m glad that line is his. He keeps it all in and I know that line is often the only thing he needs to hear to keep the top from popping off. Sometimes he’ll call me and simply say “So Di, how were we raised?”

"We were raised by wolves."

And on we go …

I’m not going to go into a lot of family drama anecdotes – you’ll just have to wait for the book. My father was a drunken abusive nut case, my mother was clinically depressed – she slept while her husband abused her children and her oldest child tried to raise them and protect them.

Neighbors would call the police, my aunts and uncles would beg her to throw my father out but in the end nothing happened and we did our best to survive.

As I got older I did what many children from abusive homes do – I drank, I experimented with drugs, I was promiscuous. When the people who are supposed to love you more than life itself clearly don’t you have very little self esteem and you act out.

Let me tell you I was one hell of a ball of rage and crazed bravado. I was very bright, very articulate, and I looked older than I was.

During this time I would hang out in Manhattan a lot. Bensonhurst, Brooklyn didn’t hold anything for me. I was a teenager in the late 60s and “the city” was the place to be. Lucky for me I loved books and art and theater. I would spend all day at museums and the “big library”. My Mom’s brother, Uncle Johnny, worked for a sightseeing company and I’d go by his post in midtown and he’d put me on the tour bus or give me money for a Broadway matinee. Uncle Johnny had his issues, all my aunts and uncles did, they were the elders of a family full of people who didn’t talk about anything. He’d ask me if I was “OK” and I could always tell by the look in his eyes that he really wanted me to say “Yes” and I did. At this point I had given up on the idea that adults were any more powerful than I was, in many ways I knew better than they did.

Uncle Johnny had a roommate, they shared a wonderful apartment full of books and music and art on the Upper West Side. Uncle Lee was the coolest guy I had ever met. He looked like a movie star, he could sing and dance and when he asked you a question he waited for an answer. He looked into your eyes when you spoke.

Uncle Johnny and Uncle Lee didn’t spend much time with the rest of the family. It wasn’t until I sought them out that I got to know them. I didn’t realize at first that they were lovers; I didn’t really understand what gay was. I barely understood straight sex even though I was having it all the time. My understanding of the world was very closed minded Bensonhurst mixed with an episode of ‘Cops’ shot in the worst trailer park you could imagine.

Since Uncle Lee worked nights – he was in the theater! – I spent a lot of time with him during the day. He’d take me to lunch, he’d go with me to see a play, he’d get me books and then ask me about them after I read them. He convinced me to be more careful – he told me I was too smart to treat myself the way I did.

Years later I learned that Uncle Lee tried to get involved in helping me, and my brothers and sister. Since he wasn’t “family” he didn’t get very far and Uncle Johnny couldn’t or wouldn’t back him up. I don’t blame Johnny – there was so much insanity going on at so many levels in the family. And how much can you do when your sister, the mother of the children you’re trying to protect, keeps telling everyone that nothing is wrong.

Uncle Lee is always there in my memories – I’ll read a book and wonder if he’d like it, I’ll hear a Broadway tune and think of him humming along, I’ll take a photo and wonder if he’d see something in it. I loved that most about him – he saw things, he paid attention, he was invested in the world.

Yesterday I thought of Uncle Lee and I was so furious and so frustrated.

In my daily need to know what’s going on in the world I came across this –

An excerpt from John McCain’s NY times interview:

Q: President Bush believes that gay couples should not be permitted to adopt children. Do you agree with that?
Mr. McCain: I think that we’ve proven that both parents are important in the success of a family so, no I don’t believe in gay adoption.
Q: Even if the alternative is the kid staying in an orphanage, or not having parents.
Mr. McCain: I encourage adoption and I encourage the opportunities for people to adopt children I encourage the process being less complicated so they can adopt as quickly as possible. And Cindy and I are proud of being adoptive parents.
Q: But your concern would be that the couple should be a traditional couple
Mr. McCain: Yes.

Really Mr. McCain? Mom and Dad/male and female/boy and girl – are the only way a child can be raised successfully? Really?

I’ll spare you all the quotes where McCain tried to back peddle. He basically said that when all else wasn’t available then he guessed it would be better for a child to be with gay parents than no parents. What a guy! A humanitarian even!

I don’t know what might have been if Uncle Lee and Uncle Johnny were married. Hell they weren’t even out. Lee was always the roommate. Would Uncle Lee have had more say? I assume so. All the other spouses did. Would Uncle Johnny have been happier if he could have lived out loud with the person he loved? I’m sure he would have been.

What I do know is that Uncle Lee was a huge influence in my young crazy life. He saw things in me that I assumed were of no value and he made them important. I was important. He wanted me to be safe, he wanted me to be happy and he tried his best in an impossible situation to do all he could for me.

And that is a parent.

So Mr. McCain – in honor of Uncle Lee – I respectfully wish to tell you to go fuck yourself and the dinosaur you rode in on.

(the image is from familiesjoinedbylove.com)

Creative Photography: If I Painted

If I could paint abstract watercolors would be my thing. All soft colors and melting lines.

Mia was very interested in the camera and kept coming closer and closer while I shot away. I didn't like the results especially her eyes. While trying to salvage one good close-up I started to play around with what a painting (If I Painted) of Mia might look like.

Please visit CREATIVE PHOTOGRAPHY and check out all the other entries. Beautiful photographs are good for your heart and soul.

Ruby Tuesday Meets Project Black At The BBQ

We recently spent the day at a great BBQ my friends "down dah pawkway" hosted.

As always I took a million photos and a few of them suit RUBY TUESDAY and PROJECT BLACK.

My son arrives in his big red truck and is always greeted like a Super Hero making a special appearance. Little ones love him and he's great with them. He got his workout during the day by obliging every request to "pick me up in the air" - "hold me upside down" - "let me ride on your shoulders". He is a one man amusement park ride.

Later in the evening one of the little guys was upset because he was both fascinated by and terrified of the trampoline. Jeffrey immediately sprang into action by taking him by the hand and asking him if he would help him bounce.

As you can see they had a great time. They wouldn't even come down for refreshments.

Our mascot was Rosie. She finally needed to rest after patrolling the area to make sure not a single bit of food ever hit the deck.

Restless Knee Jerk Syndrome

I wasn’t going to post today, I have a deadline looming BUT this mish-mosh of stupidity, this more about nothing crap, this not getting the point, this jerks controlling our knees craze is just more than I can stand.

Unless you’ve had your head under the covers all day you must have seen or heard about the New Yorker cover.

The artist Barry Blitt told Huffington Post contributor Nico Pitney:

“I think the idea that the Obamas are branded as unpatriotic [let alone as terrorists] in certain sectors is preposterous. It seemed to me that depicting the concept would show it as the fear-mongering ridiculousness that it is.”

Blitt was then asked:
And in retrospect, given the outcry, is he glad he made the art?

"Retrospect? Outcry?" he wrote. "The magazine just came out ten minutes ago, at least give me a few days to decide whether to regret it or not..."

Oh sorry Barry – we appear to suffer from restless knee jerk syndrome. We must react! We must react NOW!

I got this from politico.com:

Obama campaign spokesman Bill Burton said in a statement: “The New Yorker may think, as one of their staff explained to us, that their cover is a satirical lampoon of the caricature Senator Obama's right-wing critics have tried to create. But most readers will see it as tasteless and offensive. And we agree."

I don’t know what I would have wanted Sen. Obama’s campaign to say. I have such empathy for him. How impossible it must be to get through a day staying on point when all around swirls “secret Muslim” “angry black woman” “where’s his lapel pin?” “did he have his hand over his heart?” – blah-blah-blah!

I THINK the cover is brilliant. I THINK if a person THINKS about that image for more than a nano-second and then does any amount of unbiased research about the Obamas they too would THINK that Barry Blitt did exactly what he says he intended to do.

Will some folks look at that image and say to themselves – See I just knew he was a terrorist and she sure is an angry black woman? Yes, yes they will.

So isn’t it better to look at that and talk about it? I THINK it is. Let’s hold up fear and ignorance and call it – uh – fear and ignorance. And let’s ridicule it!!! And let’s say shut the fuck up if you’re too stupid and hateful to THINK.

Project Black: The Kitchen

The next stop on my PROJECT BLACK home tour picks up at the side door.

We're greeted by Kitty Klock, a gift from my nephew.





This is the far side of the kitchen complete with brand new fridge - it was delivered Friday. The box by the doorway is waiting to be kicked into the basement so I can spend Sunday working on it - arghhh



Little green magnet man appears to like his new home



This is the other side of the kitchen



Here's the range. I like the reflection and the bits of color.



Another cat accessory, a spoon rest. He had a partner who I suspect was killed in a tragic dishwashing accident although no one has confessed yet.



My DIL loves knives and orange and loves Rachael Ray (insert your own joke) so I got her this set for Christmas. The microwave is also brand new. Apparently the old microwave had a suicide pact with the old fridge.



More knives under the microwave. I tend to stay out of the kitchen when I'm in a bad mood. Oy!



The uh very ripe bananas are for banana bread and a puree that my DIL makes. I was playing around with light and shadow to compensate for the glare from the window and liked the way this came out. I call it "Bananas in the Fog".



I just got the black dish drainer because it stays clean longer. The towel under it is some weird super water absorber thingie from QVC. My son and his wife bitch about not having a dishwasher which I find hilarious since I wash the dishes 99.9% of the time.



We're back at the side door again. This shot is titled "Nothing is Simple". The lamp post is supposed to come on based on the timer but it doesn't so I gave up and just turn it on at sunset. The carport switch MUST stay in the on position for the motion sensor to work. If you turn it off because you can't freakin' read and pay attention (they shall remain nameless!) then it has to be set again. This involves my son on a ladder fiddlin' with tiny tiny knobs while I walk up and down the driveway saying - "does it come on yet?, does it come on yet?".



At night Kitty is visible from outside. He was up there for years before I ever realized that. A friend's little granddaughter freaked out one night and was screaming "black cat on the ceiling!!" and "that cat will get me!!". She refused to come inside until we figured out what she was seeing. She now comes in using the front door.



So there ya have it. Believe it or not I took 53 shots of the kitchen yesterday. These were (I hope) the most interesting to look at, they were the most Project Black'ish.

Make sure to check out all the other PROJECT BLACK participants.

Oh Say Can You Wordzzle ...

This week marks the birthday of our founder. Please stop by with song and salutations at RAVEN’S NEST. After a piece of cake and as much wine as you can handle give Mr. Linky a little love and check out the other Wordzzlers.

And consider trying it yourself. Everyone who has says they’re having fun and that was before the birthday wine.

Ten Word Challenge: gouged, symmetrical, Spanish moss, ATV, parallel parking, Luscious, origami, amphibian, turkey, gravy train

And for the Mini Challenge: pouring rain, mastiff, church bells, wedding dress, stock car races

My mega will continue Finola’s story – If you’re sufficiently sauced up you may want to read all of Finola’s adventures
POOR FINOLA’S BEGINNING
PART TWO
PART THREE

and now for Part Four …

The day started with the sound of church bells and pouring rain. Finola was suffering from a bad case of cabin fever; she had been at Dormancy Estates for over a week and she had to get out. In addition to the anxiety of being cooped up she had practical concerns. She needed to consider a new location and she needed supplies. Since it was risky to stay and risky to leave she decided leaving at least opened up new options.

In her boredom Finola had used all of the newspapers she found in elaborate origami projects. She loved the symmetrical lines she had created but she needed to research surrounding towns. She gouged her way through the twists and turns of her creations looking for clues into her next steps. She passed an ad for wedding dresses and her eyes rested for a moment on the photo of a huge English Mastiff available for adoption. A traveling companion would be fun and she loved dogs but how would she feed him? Unless they both dined on Gravy Train another mouth to feed just wasn’t possible.

Stonepoint Stock Car Races – free admission before noon. Stay all day. Eat, drink, and be merry. “That’s it!” Finola told the old house, “I’m going to the races”.

By the time Finola tried to get the stolen jalopy out of hiding the rain had stopped. Being a novice at parallel parking she had pulled the car as far up against the house as she could and had covered it with what she thought was Spanish Moss. “Please sweet luscious car, please start” she pleaded. She turned the ignition again – and again – and again. “You miserable old pile of junk” she screamed in frustration, “you’re such a turkey, a lemming, a lemon – that’s it, you’re such a lemon!” Her teary gaze turned to the ATV sitting in the open shed. It was rusty and dirty and sported an odd little license plate that read ‘Amphibian Asshat’. “I can’t take that on the main road” she muttered as she flooded the jalopy’s engine; “but I can take it along the back roads and find a better ride”.

My ten word:

Luscious Origami got to the theater early. She made several attempts to parallel park her ATV before she decided to just leave it where it was. She’d get one of the guys from the house band ‘Spanish Moss’ to move it for her; she had bigger issues to deal with. Her mind went back over the early morning telephone call from her agent. “Lu honey - ya gotta get your ass in gear girlie, your last three shows have been turkeys and the residuals from the Gravy Train commercial ain’t gonna last forever”. Luscious shuddered at the thought of Stan Sumppump. He might be a powerful agent but talking to him always left her feeling like her soul had been gouged out. “What do you want me to do Stan; there are no good parts for a former porn star from Japan”. “Ya know kid” Stan said sternly, “you’re going to have to take the part as Symmetrical Sally in that summer theater production”. Luscious could barely control her voice as she explained, again, that she could not see herself doing such a ridiculous play. “Lu – I know the play is absurd but the Salamander Sisters are investing heavily in it, they’re rolling in the green Lu. If they like you they could take you places”. “Take me places Stan! Take me places! Where the hell could a couple of crazy amphibian bitches take me Stan?” “Guess you’re gonna find out Lu, I told them you’d be at the theater in an hour”.

And for the Mini Challenge:

Tina Trashenwhit grabbed the hem of her wedding dress in one hand and her Bull Mastiff’s leash in the other. She rolled her eyes at the recorded church bells as she took a deep breath and ran through the pouring rain toward the tent. She really hoped Bobby Butthinker was worth having her wedding ceremony at the stock car races.

Project Black: Jack Wants To Go Home

One of my adopted blog daughters LEIGHANN gave me the idea to travel through my house, in some kind of order - although I suck at order, shooting PROJECT BLACK while giving a little tour.

I know I enjoy seeing more of where my blog friends live so I hope you do to.

I was going to leave the back yard and go directly to the front but I was interrupted by a visitor. These are shots taken on my “patio” (slab of concrete) which leads to the side door and the carport.

The furry cutie is Jack – granddog to the folks right next door. He spends his days with PopPop while his parents are at work and often comes to visit me. He won’t admit it but he really just wants to poop in my grass and leave.

After poop-fest is over he stares at the fence, giving me his signature sideways look and then wills the gate to open.

Tomorrow is Wordzzle and then on Sunday we will hopefully make it inside the house where the AC is cranking.

Project Black: Back Yard

ANNA has started the new color project and it is BLACK! My second favorite color after purple.

This was taken in my backyard. I was facing toward the front of the house. When we bought the house 5 years ago it was all white, no shutters, no trim and the siding was filthy - yellow and moldy. Once we cleaned it up the whiteness was killing me so we added black trim and shutters and we replaced the rusted steel fence with black slats.

The little building to the left is the brand new shed. A tiny white house with black shutters where all my son's magical machines and tools live a happy life. We also put down black and gray rock around the shed since this part of the yard tends to flood.

I'll take some shots of the front for the next PROJECT BLACK post. Hope you visit all the others.

Creative Photography: Resting at Harvard

Hope ya'all will stop by the CREATIVE PHOTOGRAPHY site and check out all the entries. I know I say it every week - cause it's true - there are some amazing, creative folks roaming round these internet tubes.

This photo is of a small private cemetery. I wish I knew the name of the place. It looked to be a very old church. It was gated and all the entrances were locked. I didn't see a plaque or a name anywhere. The building and the grounds were quite large, wrapped around a city block. This is the entire cemetery. It sat at the corner, directly across from one of Harvard's main entrances.

It was October and the ground was covered in leaves but it was still early enough for the trees to be full. I found it so endearing that the branches hang so low, as if to shade and protect all those resting there.

Ruby Tuesday: Those Damn Yankees Slept Here

Time for another RUBY TUESDAY. Make sure to stop by and check out all the others.

In honor of Mary’s visit to Boston this past weekend I pulled out a photo I took the last time I was there.

It’s the facade of the Copley Square Hotel. I like the bits of red showing through the trees. I discovered all sorts of new angles – many made necessary by being on a lurching bus stuck in mid-day Boston traffic.

I remember this hotel vividly because the tour guide told us the Yankees stay there when in town and of course everyone on the bus booed which made me laugh out loud. All eyes turned to me and I said “Oh give me a break, I was born in Brooklyn and I live in NJ. Do you really think a little booing can upset me?”

Later I was drinking with a few of the folks from the bus and received the ultimate Bostonian compliment. It’s probably an old Irish blessing as well. One of the guys told me – “I like you. You’re the only Yankees fan I don’t want to kill”.

See how easy it is to get along! Happy Ruby Tuesday.

Coverage of an American Tragedy

My pal Jay over at Bailey's Buddy has posted the most wonderful, hilarious video.

You must stop by and ...

CHECK THIS OUT!

Can You Wordzzle Me Now!?

Hope everyone had a safe and happy 4th. Stop by RAVEN'S NEST and check out this week’s Wordzzle posts. It’s the patriotic thing to do.

I’m going to keep Finola going. Here’s what she’s been up to this week.

Ten Word Challenge: handy, operation, gratitude, parallel bars, the color purple, manic depressive, Puget Sound, fragmentary, perpetual motion, secretive

And for the Mini Challenge: sympathetic, filet of sole, mysterious stranger, elephantine, music


Panorama Pendegrass could barely hear the voice on the other end of her cell phone. The music in the seedy Vegas bar was far too loud and the mysterious stranger sitting across from her was seriously limiting her ability to concentrate. He sat very still, his face hooded in shadow, all the while his eyes appearing to be in perpetual motion.

“Can you hear me now?” Finola shouted into the phone. She had hoped finding the cell phone would come in handy but the parallel bars of a signal were fading and she was inexperienced regarding its operation. Spread out around her were the fragmentary clues into her childhood. A sympathetic clerk at the school had allowed her a few moments to copy what she could from the elephantine mass of papers that constituted her permanent record. Finola felt a wave of gratitude toward the clerk; so few people had ever been kind to her. She pushed the files away and found last week’s copy of ‘The Puget Sound Gazette’. Her face was plastered across the front page. Finola’s mind became fuzzy again as she scanned the news story. The Headmistress was quoted as calling her a “secretive child”. The shrink brought in to profile her gave the press a certain diagnosis of “manic depressive” with “tendencies toward fantasy and violence”. Finola agreed with the fantasy part, real life was unbearable, what was there to turn to if not fantasy? She was confused about the violence. The hand grenade had been a prop from last year’s school play. Carrying it had given her a sense of power and control. Once she left the school grounds she no longer needed it.

Finola grew tired of reading about herself. Her filet of sole TV dinner was getting cold and she didn’t like using the oven. She wasn’t sure how it could still be working and wasn’t eager to press her luck. She performed her nightly routine. She drew the curtains to make sure not a sliver of light could be seen from the road. She lit the candles and double checked that the door was locked. It was only then that she could settle down and continue reading ‘The Color Purple’. She really liked the Oprah character.

And there ya have it!

The combination of too much wine and too many pieces of birthday cake have rendered me more than a little bit brain dead so there was no way I could tackle doing the 10 and the mini. Continuing Finola’s journey was enough of a challenge.

And on the 5th - Do Something

I spent a big part of today (Thursday the 3rd) at the VFW post.

We all got to talking about Independence Day and patriotism.

One of guys mentioned how sick he was of flag waving and bumper ribbons and endless talk of Obama wearing or not wearing a lapel pin. He’s having a really hard time with the VA and would much rather hear about that. He can’t pay his bills and he’s terribly worried about his daughter and her kids – her husband is on his second tour and she’s having a rough time holding it all together.

"Our country is not the only thing to which we owe our allegiance. It is also owed to justice and to humanity. Patriotism consists not in waving the flag, but in striving that our country shall be righteous as well as strong." – James Bryce

When he mentioned not being able to pay his bills one of the others talked about how hard it was to stick it out with his part-time job. He needed it to pay for gas and heating oil and he was damned if he was going to lose his house at this point in his life. He wondered aloud who was responsible for this mess.

“In any free society where terrible wrongs exist, some are guilty - all are responsible”. Abraham Heschel

I said I was sick of looking backwards, unless there was going to be impeachment, I’d rather look forward and hang on to some hope for things to get better. My second job is killing me too.

“Hope is like a road in the country; there was never a road, but when many people walk on it, the road comes into existence.” ~Lin Yutang

We drifted for a spell into a piss and moan session about gas prices and then I brought up the need to explore and invest in alternative fuel and one of the other guys talked about how it would make sense if there was help to buy a hybrid, to install solar panels. So many of us want to do these things and can’t afford to. One of the less free thinking guys said we should just drill everywhere and anywhere. A few of us tried to bring up coastal erosion and the importance of sea life and plant life but he just wanted the price of gas to go down.

“You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today.” – Abraham Lincoln

Someone asked what McCain’s stand on coastal drilling was and I laughed and said I assumed he believed whatever Chuck Norris told him to believe. A few chuckles, a few more chuckles than usual – they’re used to me. Plus I make great Italian food and that gets you a lot of airtime.

“McCain or Obama, they both suck, liars and self serving bastards – I don’t trust any of them” – anonymous veteran sitting next to Dianne.

"All men profess honesty as long as they can. To believe all men honest would be folly. To believe none so is something worse." - John Quincy Adams

The beer came out but I declined. I had to drive two of the guys home and I’d already taken a pain killer for my back. I was asked about my ongoing battle with the insurance company but I wanted the mood to stay mellow so I just shrugged.

“Healthcare is falling apart, those ****ing illegals are taking this whole country down” – our town’s version of Lou Dobbs

I suggested that much of the blame for the state of healthcare rested with the large corporations that bought up hospitals and with the drug companies and the insurance conglomerates. Someone else mentioned that virtually all of the men he had served with had been born outside the US or were first generation American.

"And how stands the city on this winter night? More prosperous, more secure, and happier than it was 8 years ago. But more than that: After 200 years, two centuries, she still stands strong and true on the granite ridge, and her glow has held steady no matter what storm. And she's still a beacon, still a magnet for all who must have freedom, for all the pilgrims from all the lost places who are hurtling through the darkness, toward home." – Ronald Reagan

I mentioned that my business was better at the moment; fewer projects were going to India and China now that years of quality issues were beginning to have noticeable effects on data validity. A few of the guys got all riled up about other countries taking our jobs and as often happens the people of those countries came under attack. I pointed out that it was American corporations getting huge incentives to establish offshore offices. I deal with the workers in these offices – they’re not getting paid fairly and they’re not getting benefits.

"He is a poor patriot whose patriotism does not enable him to understand how all men everywhere feel about their altars and their hearthstones, their flag and their fatherland." – Harry Emerson Fosdick

“So you’re gonna vote for Obama?” asked Lou Dobbs. I said I was. “And you’re sure he can be trusted?” I said I was. “And you think he can make things better?” I said I did.

“I’ll never be able to handle a President named Barack Obama” – the last statement from Lou Dobbs before the beer took over.

“My parents shared not only an improbable love; they shared an abiding faith in the possibilities of this nation. They would give me an African name, Barack, or blessed, believing that in a tolerant America your name is no barrier to success.” Barack Obama

It was getting late and I sensed an all night poker game and PC porn fest was just dying to break out as soon as “the lady” left. On the way to the car one of the guys draped his arm around my shoulder …

“That’s the trouble today babe, nobody does anything. Have a great 4th kid. And maybe on the 5th we’ll all put down the flags we’re waving and do something” – my buddy J – 40 years as a soldier.

I got the image from Wikipedia – It is Joseph Ambrose, an 86-year-old WW1 veteran, attending the dedication day parade for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. He is holding the flag that covered the casket of his son, who was killed in the Korean War.

Creative Photography: Siren

I like this photo because it offers a view into Siren’s world. It was taken at the onset of yet another one of the hellacious storms that passes by on its way to the shore. The distant rumbling of thunder makes Siren anxious and sets off bits of his old behavior.

I will spare you Siren’s entire life story (I can hear the sighs of relief) – and just mention the pertinent stuff. Siren was rescued by a NYPD officer. He was wandering about under the George Washington Bridge. Marks and wounds and his general condition led the vet to believe he had been abused by “human touch” and had been in a few fights – with other cats or squirrels.

I took him because the shelter couldn’t. He needed too much attention and the feeling was that he’d never “recover”, he’d never “be socialized”, and he’d always exhibit “fearful aggression” and would be “too dangerous and unpredictable to be around people”.

I do understand the shelter’s reluctance, there are just too many animals to save but I am thrilled to say …

They were wrong.

This photo shows a bit of how I see Siren’s mind working. I learned from him how off center and narrow his world can feel. I grew to sense his anxiety when he tries to blend into the wall. I recognize the look on his sweet beautiful face that tells me he feels exposed, all light and shadow is playing on him and there’s nowhere to escape but the darkness.

I rarely brag about meself but I am very pleased with my ability to “hurt whisper”.

It would be so simple if creatures (people too) would just tell us – I’m scared, I’m angry, I’m hurting. It doesn’t happen that way. If you pay attention the body language and the eyes and the words/meows/barks/chirps/etc. will clue you in.

The rewards for paying attention are glorious.

Please take the time to visit CREATIVE PHOTOGRAPHY. There are so many wonderful photos to appreciate.

Ruby Tuesday: Born on the 4th of July

I’m going to a birthday party on July 4th – here’s the invite hanging on my fridge.

There will be fireworks – well sparklers at least. And the pool is open and there’ll be BBQ and fancy drinks in the red/white/blue theme.

And a giant birthday cake made to look like a flag.

Happy Birthday USA – well sure it’s her birthday too but she’s had scores of parties and frankly, she’s a bit of a glutton for attention.

The party I’m attending is for a 10 year old born on the 4th of July. And his Grandfather – born on the 4th and several cousins – all born on the 4th.

Please visit the teach for more RED.