For us, that night was close but no cigar!
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Last week I took a short sojourn with a group of friends, and one of our stops was the boardwalk at Seaside Heights, NJ. Whenever I hear the sound of a calliope, it always sends me back to the World of Mirth. It was a traveling carnival that stopped a couple of years in the city in the days of my youth. We always got excited, because although the setup grounds were on Riverside Street, all the animals, rides and inhabitants would be parked along Bishop Street for a few days leading up to the show. It was exciting to walk down a neighborhood street and hear the large animals in the trucks and see the rides folded up but ready to provide plenty of fun and screams. The woods and area at the end of the street however were off limits. This was where the workers and the performers stayed in their wagons and tents. One night five of us guys headed down to check out the goings on and to see if we might find the 'home' of the hoochie-coochie girls or exotic dancers. We had this hair-brained idea that they might want to show a few teenage boys their wares. The night was short. We were met at the gate by a couple of seedy characters who just laughed at our request. They said we could get to see 'it' at the show the next night. How much did we see? Not much. Unable to come up with the separate admission to the exotic dancer tent, we had to be satisfied with standing out back, listening to the music and seeing the ladies enter and exit. It must have been a good show, because there were plenty of outbursts of screams and clapping.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Some days I really do feel that I'm caught in a labyrinth of sorts, and I don't like that feeling. The daily grind can catch up with you unannounced and drag you down. It's like a dream gone bad; like waking up from a nap and not knowing what day or time it is. It's that feeling I have sometimes of waking in total darkness, in a room I'm not used to sleeping in and being totally confused between reality and some 'never neverland'. I'm thankful because these feelings pass quickly, and I'm back in a familiar place. Most mazes are a bit creepy to me after seeing that final scene in The Shining. This one was not. It's the side of a giraffe seen out a window on a safari tour. There, back to reality!
Friday, July 29, 2011
What's the situation?
These days I can usually handle any situation that arises. It wasn't always that way. Early in my formative years, there were situations that left me in a panic. I don't think I slept much that night before we square danced in gym class. We were told the day before by Mr. A, our macho gym teacher, that the boys would be choosing their partners first. After taking the roll, he quickly lifted the heavy, blue plastic screen exposing a line of girls, equally in a panic-city mode as well, I'm sure. I was one of the last to select that morning (quite shy, really), and to this day I thank God for two things that happened. One: petite, cute, blonde, Ellie was still 'standing'. And two: when I asked she smiled and nodded. She was a straight A student, who seldom uttered any words at all. But that smile and nod spelled relief to me that winter morning in seventh grade.
Adult situations don't necessarily put me in panic. I usually can handle them, even if it takes me awhile. But I've recently started an almost 3 week 'run' with Elenka in Florida... YIKES!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
This post is anything but da blues for me today. It's connected with such a fond memory. But as SC often states about my photos and stories... 'Birdman, how the heck did you ever end up there from that picture, I want to know'. Last week, when I took this shot that spans the color spectrum, I thought for sure I had captured the sign hanging in front of the Irish pub Bull Feeney's, but later was disappointed to find it missing. That was a 'downer'. Now the 'upper'! Three years ago this coming December, Elenka and I had a fabulous 2 1/2 hours getting to know our new friends Kitty and Mr. BC. In life it's not the destination that's all important, but the journey and those you are lucky enough to meet along the way. Her photoblog is the first place I stop each day for my 'daily devotion' of verse.
Da blues? No, da friends!
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Thank goodness someone(besides myself... that's a bit of a joke) knows what they are doing in this world. There's a lot of information scattered across the pavement in cities, but for the life of me these letters and numbers are way beyond me. Life's a mystery to us all and here's just one more piece of proof to non-believers. This area on Exchange Street is just littered with Public Works modern day hieroglyphics. The other morning four or five men were drinking coffee and preparing to enter the 'world below' and to address some urgent issue that was way beyond my means. Anyone want to hazard a guess? If so, drop me a note. As for me, I'm spending the day at the Shore on a grand boardwalk, eating pizza and watching BIG waves crash. Pass the sunblock, please.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I'm all about production. I think I can trace this to many people who I've passed along the way. 'Produce or get of the pot' was an expression I first heard my French-Canadian born grandmother use. At first, I was confused. What did she mean? I realized at about 6, that it was her way of telling me to finish whatever I was doing. She explained in detail what the word 'produce' meant and what a 'pot' was. I laughed hysterically when she explained that one of the many meanings of 'pot' was a toilet. Get it done! Finish the job. Online this morning, the obituary of my eighth grade English teacher, Ms. Myrtle Storer, another woman who helped convince me that producing a solid, quality product was the way to go if you were going to put your name on anything in this world. Produce... wonderful word!
Monday, July 25, 2011
I hate these suckers with a passion. Ok, hate is a very strong word. Let's try this. I REALLY hate them! These two bottom feeders were found early one morning last week waiting to be fed their daily feast of shiny quarters. Why, oh why, oh why can't we just all get along? After dropping a buck an hour into these babies, your car has to be moved. I guess the theory here is that you should be able to complete all your shopping within a two hour period. Dreamers! The way I'm looking at it, not the best way to complete our city's 'urban renewal' project born in the 60's. I say pull 'em all out, close Congress Street to auto traffic and turn the area into an open air mall and bring the natives and tourists flocking to Downtown, with no fear of pink 'love letters' on windshields or worse, a missing, towed vehicle. There, I'm done. Let's move on! Maybe tomorrow I'll start my campaign to rid the cable airways of garbage shows like Nancy Grace, JVM and H. Rivera. Hahahaha!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
I like a good laugh every now and then. Who am I kidding? I enjoy a good chuckle all the time! Someone said once that laughter makes the world go round, and I do so believe that this is true. When I stop and think about it, I can do lots of things really well. A couple of these jump out. I can talk forever! Never have been shy about that. And I can make anybody smile. I'm really not bragging here; I think I can do it. I'm not afraid to make a fool of myself, can do silly impressions and can tell funny stories, often at my expense. My philosophy that I try to follow? It's simple. Search out what brings you happiness, follow your heart and LAUGH! You can do a lot worse.
*Gone for a few days. Will check in as I can. Have posted some photos and thoughts to ponder in my absence. Stay cool!
Saturday, July 23, 2011
These three young ladies were among a small group of writers scattered along benches in Tommy's Park the other morning. This group looked to be recording their early morning observations of people on their way about their lives. Writing was always hard for me. When Mrs. Kibler and others slid a piece of lined paper across my desk on Fridays and just said write a story, I felt overwhelmed. There was no real help or direction just the intimidating words 'write'. Terms like brainstorming, pre-writing activities, and finding your voice were still pretty much ensconced in the future. The finished paper was due on her desk first thing Monday morning, and so this usually meant a long frustrating Sunday evening and the end of my weekend. I got to dread Sunday afternoons and evenings. Mom knew what I was up against and offered encouragement and ideas. Needless to say, I survived seventh grade. Given what I know now, I certainly would enjoy another crack at those Friday writing assignments. Alas, life moves on!
Friday, July 22, 2011
I'm just saying... As I begin writing today on the deck, it's 5 AM and the thermometer is registering a warm 81 degrees. After a night inside, our two cats always make a break for it when the back screen door is opened. Not today. they both stay nestled on the 'cool' decking rather then venture off into the heated wild. Not too much is moving. It feels like it's gonna be a hot, humid Jersey summer day here in Maine. My ol' buddy the local meteorologist says the temps are going to top off between 93-95 this afternoon. Hey, I'm not complaining! We don't have 'air', but most summer days we just open the windows and doors and let the summer breeze do its job. I know that the next few days will bring on the heat and then a typical Maine summer will return with its sunny, upper 70s and low 80 degree days. Hey, I'm not complaining! Why? Because I know, that in just six short months, the woodstove will be chugging, they'll be 10 inches of white stuff drifted up against the back door and the temperatures will be hugging the 20s and teens. Yes, I'm going to enjoy these next few hot summer days. Hey, I'm just saying...
Thursday, July 21, 2011
I like the Old West look to this building. As I have mentioned here before, we have a small garden: lettuce, corn, peppers, cucumbers, squash, string beans etc. It's fun each summer to watch a garden grow. I have a Toro lawn tractor that I use to cut the lawn, haul brush, lug wood on our land. With the riding mower, it usually takes me about an hour and a half to cut the grass with it. Why a Toro and maybe not a John Deere? Way back, when I worked summers at the cemetery, I was weened on them. We used large riding mowers, hand push mowers, weed whackers, hand clippers. It seemed that everywhere you looked around the yard you saw the Toro brand name. I learned about them. How they are a top quality, rugged, long lasting piece of equipment. It has served me well. Toro, Toro, Toro!
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Caught at rest in a parking lot nearby was this vintage faded, cream pick-up with its silver handle and slightly beat up gas cap. I bought a pick-up new once. Drove it around for a couple of years. It wasn't me. But I bet I could stand this classic sitting in my driveway, with the sun shinning off it this morning. This got me to thinking. You know how I can do that.Know where I'm going with this? Sit tight. Pick-up trucks, and I jump to pick-up lines. You know what I mean. Speaking of some classics... What's your sign? Do you come here often? Can I buy you a drink? Do you know who I am? What's your major? Wanna date my brother? What's your favorite Beatles song? Need a plumber? You a Sox fan? Ever climbed Everest? Don't I know you? But I am a doctor!
Ever use one( come on, don't lie to me this morning)? Ever had a good one thrown in your direction, no matter how far back? I had one used on me once, and it worked. "Wanna go look at the beavers?" REALLY! I kid you not!
Gotta a classic? How about ridiculous? Feel brave? Share?
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
The eyes have it. Do you see them peering back at you from these birches? Are you a Twilight Zone fan? Do you remember the episode "Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?" One of my favorites . I think the title is taken from that old tag line from the show "To Tell the Truth". You know, 'will the real_____ please stand up?'. I won't bore you with too many of the details, but suffice to say troopers follow footprints from a frozen pond. Inside a diner they find a bus driver, his seven passengers and a soda jerk. The driver is positive there were only six on the bus with him. Is there an alien among them? Who might it be? Martian? Other? What's their purpose here on earth?
Spoiler Alert! At the end, the one rider reveals multiple arms and says he's a Martian, but just before the credits roll, the soda jerk lifts his cap to show his third eye in the middle of his forehead. He's from Venus and has been here a few years, readying for his planet to take over the Earth. Great episode! You can find it on YouTube. It's worth a watch. Here's looking at you, Kid.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Not to be confused with mythological Styx, this river runs down off of a very large rock on the back side of Rocky Hill near Canco Road. In the summer, with all the vegetation it's a lot harder to see the rock outcroppings. It's the easier to make out in winter, but then again it's the most hazardous traversing the stone top. Remember recess? How did you fill that time? What did you do? Back at St. Joseph's School, we had recess at 10 in the morning and then again right after lunch. I can pretty much guarantee you that, unlike most of the girls, we boys didn't stick around in groups and 'talk'. Over the years, we traded and flipped our baseball cards, played tackle red rover in the winter (til the nuns forbid it), rubbed bottle caps on the stone stairs til they fell apart, played baseball and basketball, and built little houses at the base of large trees, using tiny sticks and stones. The forerunners of the fairy houses of today? When I saw these 'rivers of sticks', it was recess again. When we heard the big brass bell ring, it was time to line up and head back to the 'rock pile' and class work. How did you fill your recess time?
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Let me tell you this right off the bat, Birdie. Your chances of getting any Doritos, my lunch today of cottage cheese, walnuts, grapes, blueberries and raisins, as disgusting as it sounds, or even a morsel of my Mom's potato salad is just about zilch! So move away from our blanket and chairs and go hustle someone else's lunch, while they are wading in the water or visiting the restroom. Life at the beach, when it's hot and humid inland, is so relaxing but fraught with peril.
PS. Sending big HAPPY B-Day wishes to Bruce sailboardoing at Hood River today!
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Some might call these skiffs. Some might call them dories. Still others lacking nautical history and knowledge, like myself, might just call them rowboats. They were scattered about at varies locations on the shore of Willard Beach the other day. Mom would often pack our creme and red Chevy station wagon with us and our pals and head here on sweltering July days. While most of my friends loved to go to various lakes in the area, her wagon always set a course for the ocean. The beach is small confined on the left by the large rocks and the old Fort Preble and on the far right by the abandoned fishing shacks sitting high on a bluff. The water here was always freezing cold, as I remember, but heck it was the beach; it was wicked hot and there were a million things to do and explore with your friends. And that all usually happened before Mom opened the cooler and dragged out her egg salad sandwiches. They were a staple of our sojourns to the beach, but with one gust of wind, we were all crunching away with our sand-crusted meal. One question still lingers... Mom, with so many other of your culinary delights that you could put together for a day at the ocean, why the egg salad? For pete sakes, egg salad? Maybe my sisters or Capt. Billy have the answer to this one. My brother? Nope... PB&J. I'm baffled!
Friday, July 15, 2011
Here I am in Westbrook. I guess this is a testament that I was always a gardener and have always loved to wear hats.
Happy 29th birthday to me! If Jack Benny can say he was 39 all his life, I say I'm doing him ten better! Ha!
In lots of ways, grandmothers are the wisest of people. As this story was told to me, not long after my birth, and I was brought home to Devon Street, my grandparents paid a visit. When my grandmother stared into the crib, and found her first grandchild nestled among the blankets, she exclaimed to all present, "He looks just like Prince Charles!" This incident traveled with me all my formative years with some embarrassment on my part I might add. Often at my parents' parties, Nana would pipe up, "Doesn't he look just like Prince Charles?" I just wanted to melt into the carpeting. Now here's where the story gets interesting. Elenka's Babka( Slovak for grandmother) lived in Hillside, NJ for a time, and she along with her sister and cousins would visit often. One of the times, the ouija board got brought out for some fun.
Elenka asked, "Who will I marry?"
After a short time and a few moves of the pointer towards letters, Babka looked at the board and exclaimed, "You are going to marry Prince Charles!"
Strange or what? That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!
My plans for the day? Doing very little. Perhaps little bit of painting, relaxing on the deck, and dinner and a nice glass of wine at On the Marsh.
Enjoy my day!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Yuk! First of all let's get this taken care of right off the bat... the birdbath has been cleaned. My grandparents had a small but cozy back yard in Westbrook. When I climbed up next to the sink, I could survey all the backyard and the distant misshaped spruce trees with a sweeping glance. There was a large circular flower bed, lined with rocks my grandfather had painted white just below the kitchen window. Nana's flowers were beautiful, flourished all summer long and kept the ceramic mother duck and her three ducklings company. Next to them she kept a birdbath filled with sparkling water. If it got low, it was my job to grab the hose and fill it to the brim. I could do that. On each visit it seemed, I would go out back and move the ducks just a bit and rub their heads. Don't ask me why. I wondered what made her garden's flowers so big and colorful. On a visit one fall day, mystery solved. I heard shovels hard at work. The garden was all dug up, and the dirt piled high beside it. Grampa and a buddy were sweating leaning on their shovels. I asked Nana why she let them destroy her garden. She then went on and related to me the the nuances involved in something she called the septic tank. But I still didn't get it really.
"When you flush, doesn't it go forever?" I said.
"Not really." She replied with a chuckle and moved away. Another life lesson learned!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Here's another photograph that's found a bit off the beaten track. Search off of Canco Road and you'll find them. Sort of at parade rest, these trailers look to be done for the day, so to speak. I always anticipated spring. Why? Many reasons, but most of all, TaDa! new sneakers, of course! My brother and I got a new pair of PF Flyers or Red Ball Jets each spring. I had the entire summer to run them into the ground, and I usually did. Toes making an encore right out the sides! Heard of a '3 dog night'? Well some Julys and Augusts were '2 pair summers'. When the old feet were really pushing the limits'... of the fabric and Mom's patience with her growing tykes that is. I never wore socks and this created another problem that Mom recognized fast. Because I was constantly on the go: soaking my feet in swamp water on our quest for frogs, sliding into the dusty, dirt at home plate or riding my bike for hours on end it seemed, I suffered terribly from that dreaded 'summer boyhood disease': smelly sneakers. I had it so bad I had to put my sneakers on the open window sill at night to allow the cooling breezes to remedy the situation. When the gang slept out in our tents, as we often did, my shoes remained outside. They were rancid! To tell you the truth, I don't know if any of the other guys were afflicted with this disease, but I was and it wasn't that humorous. I'm better at handling this problem now. When the day is done, my work shoes remain in the garage or off to the side of the deck. Experience is the great teacher!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Here's the Portland Boxing Club building tucked away among the bushes and trees at Morrills Corner. Growing up, this was just one of the many warehouses of NT Fox Lumber Company. You had to search to find it and we did. There were quite a few buildings, mostly wooden structures, that held seemingly endless stacks of lumber. The rafters were loaded with pigeons. One day, Teddy got the idea that we might be able to get a big payoff, if we were able to capture about 20 or so and train them to be passenger pigeons. We all suffered 'brain cramps' at the same moment, I guess, and thought he had a marvelous idea. We had dreams of one HUGE money-making scheme for the gang. We were going to have bucks falling out of our bluejeans. We worked most of the morning, as I remember, constructing cages, climbing the rafters, going from building to building, using various techniques. We really thought our fishing nets were going to secure us many birds. Want to know how many we caught? You guessed it. None! Our dream, of making the big time, ended around noon, when we were thrown off the property by a security guard and told never to return. Well, we had worked pretty hard to no avail but at least our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Pepsis tasted good. To this day, every time I see a flight of pigeons, I can't help thinking back to that morning gone wrong! By the way, you won't believe what our next project was.
Monday, July 11, 2011
This image is from SFO looking out our plane window... descending night, fog dancing, unknown shadows just wandering away against the glass. Heading home, from any trip, always gives me a dash of ambivalent feelings. Home is where the heart is for sure, but part of my heart remains with Joanne and Bruce. It's not easy having them so far away, but for now, I know it has to be. I still remember the day Mom brought her through the door on Stevens Avenue. It was a whole new thing. Something I had never witnessed before-- a baby. I would hike myself up enough to just barely peer over the edge of her crib and stare in to the form nestled in the pink blankets. I was amazed. I was happy. I was confused. Who is this? Where did she come from? Why is she here? Where's my puppy? I have vague recollections of brother Martin and sis Constance joining the family, but Joanne was different. I have watched her literally grow up before my eyes, from that afternoon on Stevens to Oregon. She's done quite well. Adios then. Till September at Higgins Beach... I hope
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Off in the distance, not seen in this photograph, is Mt St. Helens. On a clear day you can almost see forever. This chime is on the back deck of my sister's house in Lake Oswego, Oregon. It reminds me of pictures of prayer flags and bells at one of the early base camps at Mt. Everest. Why does this come to mind? When we visited Timberline Lodge, at the foot of Mt. Hood just off the parking lot, I saw a mass of prayer flags waving in the steady breeze. There was some sort of rally taking place in the campaign to Save Tibet. There was dancing, singing of songs and the burning of incense going on. After seeing this, I headed to the lodge for a martini to help the cause.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Our day began around 2 AM, when Elenka's water broke. Heading to Maine Medical Center on that early July morning I had two things occupying my mind. Simply put--today would be the birthday of a child, and where was I going to get two chocolate, coconut donuts and a cup of coffee at that time of day. We had practiced the Lamaze method til it was real old, still had no idea if the baby would be a boy or a girl, had no real finalized list of names, and I had made myself two tunafish sandwiches to get me through the event. I was prepared, and I knew for sure Elenka was. We were ready! The day was long and, of course, eventful. It was filled with lots of walking the halls, cherry popsicles (for me), and when I ate those sandwiches I have no recollection (but I did). JMR was born at 8:17 PM. Along with marrying Elenka, the best two days of my life... no question about that. I found this poem on a blog somewhere. It fits today. Happy Birthday Boy!
What is a Boy?
He's an imp and an angel,
a dreamer, a tease
An explorer of meadows, and
a climber of trees.
A runner of errands, and
doer of chores.
Who tears his best trousers, and
tracks up your floors.
He's a solemn young man with
some mud on his feet,
And a daredevil riding his
bike down the street.
A bundle of questions, who
wants to know "why",
The world goes around and
the stars fill the sky.
But adventures, timid, excited
There's nothing so new that he,
won't care to try it.
And just when your temper and
patience wear thin,
He'll look up at you with an
And your heart melts again with
your real pride and joy,
In that mischievous, wonderful
treasure--- your boy!
Friday, July 8, 2011
The Lake Oswego house is a beauty. This piece of glass artwork in the hallway welcomed the sun each morning of our stay. Joanne, the Stumptown coffee and the batch of blueberry muffins were a 'hit' each morning. We're both early morning risers and being on vacation didn't change my biological timetable. I was up most days between 5 and 6 but usually kept to myself til 7, blogging or checking out various online newspapers and magazines. Once everyone was up, had breakfast and showered, our day began in earnest. Most days with Joanne are go, go, go! She's a big time, dayplanner, but always makes you feel you are well paced and under control. We got a lot done each day, but it never felt rushed or hectic.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Can it really be? Has it really been seventeen years since my sis J- and B- moved from Portland Maine to Portland Oregon? It seems like only ten or so, but I know it was a lot more than that. Thanks to DownEast, Portland, and Maine magazines and cell phones; she keeps pretty close to 'home'. It was a fun-filled three days on Hood River, with many large windows looking out on wondrous river sights. Lots of music, countless trains running back and forth on both shores, wind surfers, kite surfers, barge watching and of course the 4th's fireworks kept me busy. It was vacation, after all.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Our first summer road trip had us venturing across the country with a destination of Hood River, Oregon. My sister J- and her husband B- were perfect hosts for the week. Eight of us piled into their Columbia River Gorge home and had great fun through the week. Their lives are filled with biking, hiking, skiing: Nordic and downhill, mountain biking, paddle boarding and, of course, wind surfing. Here in their garage the many different size sails are lined up in their bags. Ready to go when the wind comes up just right. Neatness is a virtue for them.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Up on the Hill, you'll find the St. Lawrence Arts and Community Center. The St. Lawrence Church itself was dedicated in 1897 and filled the entire city block between Beckett and Munjoy Streets. Although it flourished for nearly 100 years, it recently fell into disrepair and was dissolved and deconsecrated as a church. I think it is still one of the most interesting features of Munjoy Hill. I've eaten breakfast at the Front Room, walked to the top of the Portland Observatory, watched the fireworks on July 4th on the Prom, stopped in to look at art at Elizabeth Fraser's studio, but have never stepped foot in this building. Some of the programs look very interesting. I need to visit this place this summer, for sure.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Today, a little guessing game. I'm not in Maine. Where am I? I'm near Mt. Hood. No, I'm not in Oregon. Get out your GPS. Elenka and I traveled on Route 14 and spent the afternoon along the Columbia River Gorge. Luckily, we ended up at Maryhill Winery and and sampled some fine wines. Dirty work, but someone has to do it! Did I mention gorgeous weather too? Guess! Where am I? What did I stop to purchase here? Hint, hint, hint...
Happy 4th of July!
Sunday, July 3, 2011
It always had the aroma, the smell if you will. In the neighborhood, it was called Six Links, and I'm sure it had something to do with the number of units facing the street of this brick apartment building at Morrill's Corner. It was one of my early morning stops delivering papers. As I remember, I only dropped papers at four doors, but had to make the trip up the long set of stairs and two sets of hallways. At 5 AM, the radiators were banging away and little elderly ladies were peeking out of their doorways, checking out who was walking the halls at this hour. It was so warm up there, almost too warm with peculiar smells coming from under doors. Most of the units had a least two rooms, a kitchen area/dining room and a bedroom. I always wished it was my last stop, so I might linger longer in the warmth on those Maine winter mornings.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
It's humming time again! On Commercial Street, I came across this neat drainpipe. I thought it was so artistic and a bit delicate in design, if you ask me. 'The Itsy, Bitsy Spider" was a favorite of mine in those younger years.
- The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout.
- Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.
- Up came the sun, and dried up all the rain,
- and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.
Mom taught us all the words and the accompanied hand movements, as we sat around the kitchen table. I know many can't handle spiders at all, either in the bathtub or running along the floor. And, of course, around this house, I'm the unofficial spider killer. Although I must add at this point, I perform this service mostly to stop the screaming. I've always enjoyed the antics of these members of the arachnid family. Probably, it all stems from waking up after sleeping out with the gang in our tents to Daddy Long Legs walking over my face. Ah... another pleasant thought. Are you humming this song yet?
Friday, July 1, 2011
I'm GREEN with envy on this one! Today, July 1, 2011 is Theme Day throughout the CDPB (citydailyphotoblog) community. A best friend of mine has this Harley Davidson V-Rod beauty in his garage. All steel and silver... it gives me goose bumps. Now, are you ready for a deep dark secret? I could really see myself roaring away on one of these iron horses. Of course, Elenka is shaking her head, NO, vehemently right now. I hear Harleys racing up the road many days... I hear them off in the distance, a mile away. Some days, I'd love to straddle one, feel it vibrating and race to the horizon line. But that's just me. I can dream, can't I? Varooooom!