Sunday, March 31, 2013

Dawn Breaks

Dawn breaks. It's Easter. 

Each Easter season, I always enjoyed two things the pageantry of the long weekend in the pews of St. Joseph's and Easter morning on Stevens Avenue. I do think I know which of the festivities Mom and Dad enjoyed most. Holy Thursday. Good Friday. Holy Saturday. Easter Sunday. It seemed I was always at church. And after the 'madhouse' that ensued when four youngsters went pushing and shoving with our baskets all over the house looking for colored eggs dropped off by the Easter bunny, I guess the calm and  reverence of the hour long service bought at least Mom and Dad a little solitude from the 'storm'.  

And while I'm on the Easter bunny kick. What's the deal with the bunny delivering eggs? Wouldn't an Easter chicken make more sense?
Come on... let's stop livin' the lie.
Enjoy your day. 
By the way, I'm forgetting the eggs. I'm heading out early on a quest for Easter java!

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Lobster Boat

Like a boat lying at rest on calm water, I have plans for spring...
-burn the brush that I cut last fall
-rototill the garden
-rake up remaining leaves
-get the birdhouses out and up
-clean up under the birdfeeders
-get deck furniture out
-check out the hoses
-grill up and running
-plans together to remodel den
-lay a new rug or tile in back hall
-summer project for the backyard
-what to do with the kitchen floor
-get the riding mower tuned
-buy that 4-wheeler
-start sunflowers
-run to Ossipee Gardens for seedlings
-pick up dead, fallen branches
-clean the garage
... and do about 20-30 more things that I haven't even thought about yet.
But at least I don't have to scrape the bottom of this boat.
Oh, and clean the martini glasses and ready them for the first warm, sunny deck day.

Friday, March 29, 2013


"Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive!"
-Sir Walter Scott 

A story broke yesterday nearby. A serial rapist, who was convicted of rape, kidnapping and unnatural acts in a Massachusetts town in 1978, was finally captured yesterday in quiet neighborhood, where he had been living for the past 35 years. The details of the horrific rapes of three women leads one to believe, that no matter what he seems today, this is not a good guy. Back in '78, the judge gave him one last weekend to spend with his family, before his incarceration, and he took off like the coward he was.
Did he REALLY think he'd get away with it?
Few do. 

Thursday, March 28, 2013


A solid hunk of rock. That's all today. Working at the cemetery, I spent a lot of time, over the years, cleaning gravestones made from solid granite. It wasn't hard work in the summer sun, but it made for long days. The hazards were few. If you got splashed with the cleaner, you had to wash the acid-like substance off immediately or you'd get burned. Sunglasses were a must. You see, I worked, got paid and remained extremely cool while doing so. I got the nickname Rocker, while working among the stones, but no, it wasn't because of what I spent the day cleaning. It was the hair! That and the fact that Ray, the oldtimer, thought that, back in the day, long hair equalled 'rockstar', and that he said was me.
Rock on! 

Wednesday, March 27, 2013


Often when I see photographs, they trigger memories or pieces of my past. Sounds. Aromas. Touches. They can do it too. Most times it's just for a few quickening seconds. It comes to me like fleeting moments of melancholia. It's here, and then just as fast it's gone. It might be a place I've visited once or twice, a book that has left an impression, positively or negatively, a vacation trip that was especially memorable or even people who have left imprints. They come rocket-like and fade fast. Gone, at least for awhile. Gas station. Fenway. Billy Budd. Glass jugs. Lost gloves. Kibler. Golf course. Bermuda. Tree forts. Red eyes. Workbench. Wooden bridge. See? They mean little to others but keep returning to me. Take for example this image. Anything come suddenly to mind? When I saw this sight in the camera, I  thought immediately about Alice tumbling down through the rabbit hole. What was she thinking? What did she see? Where did she think she was going? Who would greet her when she came to rest?
Sometimes it does feel like I have about 50 things rattling around in my head.
You see, often, I'm in my own 'wonderland'.

"I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then."- Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Tuesday, March 26, 2013


I like all kinds of music... all kinds, even, as Elenka calls it, the wretched stuff that sometimes emanates from the pipes like these. I can get goosebumps when a stirring rendition of some well known tune is played. I have even been known to get them listening to punk-rocking renditions of  Dropkick Murphy tunes like "The Worker". I'm sure, 'my better half' will chime in soon and share her utter disdain for the music. As a matter of fact, she'll call into question, I'm sure, whether blowing into these bags and the sound that issues forth is music at all. I try to convince her that it's a beautiful sound when played expertly. I also mention to her that my Irish roots probably has something to do with my love of the sound. 
She ain't buying it though, as you'll hear soon.
Great knees, a killer tartan kilt, a sporran to die for and a pipe band playing in a parade or celebrating in a pub... there might not be a finer thing.
Don't try to convince me otherwise.
It'll be a losing battle.
I say, just 'walk away Renee'.
Come to think of it---
That might be a killer song to hear on the pipes

Monday, March 25, 2013


This was a pleasant surprise. On our recent trip along the Massachusetts coast, we stopped by in Salem and caught sight of Mr. Nathaniel Hawthorne, hat in hand, sitting near Essex Street. Born in Salem on July 4, 1804, he attended Bowdoin College here in Maine with classmates Franklin Pierce and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Although he was most famous for his novel, The Scarlet Letter, his short stories always intrigued me more. His "The Minister's Black Veil" was my favorite. The mystery that surrounded the minister, who one day out of the blue started preaching to his congregation with a veil covering his face, was one that still makes me wonder, long after I finished the reading. I got to believe the seemingly endless hours spent in the pews of St. Joseph's Church, listening to long, windy sermons, had something to do with it.
Let us pray.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

White Carnations

I've been accused of having a sense of humor from time to time, and if that is indeed the case then my bloodlines do run true to this broad, my grandmother, Josie.
She was the crazy lady who once drove up to my Mom's cousin Billy and Barbara's house in Cumberland in a car, got out, knocked on the front door with her hat and stogie and asked, "Hey, is there any place around here where I might rent a horse?"
I'm still smiling thinking of that scene. This photograph and the memories came rushing back yesterday.

The times we spent at Billy and Barbara's place on Blanchard Road with the kids were fun times, whether it was during the Christmas season or like summers pictured here. They had greenhouses and raised carnations that traveled the world. We attended a lovely service for Barbara yesterday that was filled with much reminiscing, and when we returned I spent an hour or so going through family albums remembering the woman with those sparkling eyes, and as her daughter Susan mentioned, had that amazing knack of making you the only one in a crowded room when she was in conversation with you.
Barbara, your white carnations are in a vase on our kitchen table this morning, reminding us of you.

Saturday, March 23, 2013


I need a bit o' Luck of the Irish these next few weeks.
They say all 32 counties of Ireland were represented in the flags flying in the parade last week, but I wasn't counting. They, whoever they are, say you make your own luck in this world, but I have a hard time buying that. After the first two days of the 2013 Men's NCAA Basketball Tournament, I'm a measly 22-10. My South bracket has been just about blown apart. Marchin is not much better at 23-9. Now, I've won the pool at work a couple of times, taking home hundreds each time, but that was just pulling a team from a hat. Kansas in 2008 and Arkansas back in 1994 brought me some 'fun money' to splurge. Selecting all 62 teams and their results over the last three weeks in March has never been a chore I've had a lot of success at. 
I guess you could say, I've been 'lucky at love' though.
NCAA Basketball? Not so much.

* ps. If you don't follow the MADNESS, just move along. There's nothing to see here.
*ps2. Go Hoosiers!

Friday, March 22, 2013


Keep Out!
Don't Fish!
Private Property!
No Trespassing!
Private Road!
Dead End!
No Motorized Vehicles!
No Hunting!
No Trapping!
No Dumping!
No Loitering!
No ATVs!
No Overnight Parking!
No Water Access!
No Running!
No Fumbling!
No Skipping Stones!
No Walking!
No Breathing!
Get the Picture?
... No Nothing!

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Snow Fence

Well, yes we did get more snow. The good news, if you can call it that, was that we did not get the 10-15 inches that was predicted, but this time of year, 8 inches or so is more than enough. I remember late winter storms like this. Cripes! This time of year, I had already spent hours working a ball into my Jimmy Piersall-model glove. My brother and I walked the floors of the  house pounding a Rawling's ball into leather. We lugged our gloves to school and spend recess with many friends bouncing a ball of the wide brick wall at St. Joseph's School. Our first games of spring were usually played on the tarred parking lot out back of the Canal Bank. It was cleared off and after-bank hours afforded us plenty of space for bases and a pretty good size outfield. After a few games there and more spring melting days, our 'field' was whatever and where ever cleared off first. The grassy, lumpy meadow behind Leo's, the dirt playground in front of the old Morrill's School, the small parcel of grass in Baxter's Woods, we weren't proud. If we could imagine a ball field and it was clear in late March, we could play ball. Today, kids spend days preceding the true season on a gym floor, almost mocking the game. We just needed cleared grass, dirt or a brick wall, and it was time to have some fun.
Play Ball!

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Yellow Dog

Celebrate spring!
Don't look out the window in Maine. You won't be cheered by what you see. So let's keep it indoors.
Marchin made some home brew, for the first time, over the last month or so. It was a crafted lager.  Last Sunday, after getting home from the parade, it was sampling time. I was impressed! Great taste. Fine color. Super head. Beautiful amber. For me, it was all there. He and a friend made it, and since they both have yellow dogs, they called this batch: Yellow Dog. Annie must be so proud!
We're approaching Maine Maple Sugar Sunday, and coming up with sweet maple sugar for pancakes, ice cream and such is quite a long process and entails lots of hard work. I think, if I had a choice, I'd take the micro brew road. I'd savor the end product a lot more. As a matter of fact, Marchin's going let me tag along next time. Maybe something for Memorial Day? 
I might be saluting the flag with a bottle of Birdman's Best? You never know.
So, I'm saluting the arrival of spring with sips of Yellow Dog!

Tuesday, March 19, 2013


Am I going shopping for candy or second-hand clothing this morning? I think not. Do I have to tell you what the weather is like outside today? Just see for yourself. Spring begins,with the vernal equinox, in less then 24 hours in these parts at 7:02 AM (EDT) tomorrow March 20, 2013. We could get between 10-15 more inches today. My wishing that we'd get some snow for Christmas Eve is a very long ways away this morning. There's a candy shoppe to the left of this duplex. I don't really have what you might call a sweet tooth. Although, if it's around, I might sample something chocolate with coconut mixed about. On the right here, is a used clothes shop. I do so much enjoy taking a stroll through second-hand stores, but to tell you the truth, I don't think I'll be doing much moving from the kitchen woodstove today. This latest 'dropping' has got me a bit in the dumps. The only real saving grace is that I know this wicked stuff will melt away quickly. But really, spring snow? Oh by the way, if things fall into place weatherwise at the end of the week, guess what might be in my future?
As a matter of fact... don't ask, or I might be Fallin' for Juicy too! 

Monday, March 18, 2013


"If You've Got the Knees, We've Got the Kilts" was a motto of the Wooster College of Ohio Band a few years back. I've got a poster near my cluttered desk to prove it.  The sporran is a small leather or fur pouch worn at the front of the kilt in the traditional dress of men of the Scottish Highlands. Lots of kilts and and sporrans were about yesterday as pipe bands marched in the city's St. Patrick's Day parade and visited local pubs after the formal festivities. Did I tell you that I now am in possession of two kilts? I picked up a second on my sojourn to Florida last month. This one is a true kilt that even has some sort of rodent's paw as a pin. A pal at work, who is from Ireland and just became a US citizen a few weeks back, told me it has some significance to Irish kilt wearers. I'm doing a bit of research on this right now.
By the way, if you are always looking for something to celebrate, mark April 6, 2013 on your calendar.
It's National Tartan Day.
Might I be brave and wear a kilt to work?
You never know with me.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Corned Beef

Happy St. Paddy's Day!
Last night Elenka prepared our traditional St. Patrick's Day repast of corned beef and cabbage. It was delicious! Now, looking at my photo today in full disclosure, I prepared my earthenware myself. I'm really not into food placement on my dish. I just wanted the corned beef, cabbage, turnip, carrots and potatoes on my plate so I could 'get busy'. You'd think that the times I've gotten 'lost' on the food network watching the likes of:  Paula Dean? (No!), the Barefoot Contessa? (No!), Rachael Ray(No! No! No!!), Giada De Laurentiis? (well, now you're talkin'). I can watch her for hours, and I have before. "Oh, you say she cooks too?" You'd think I'd know a little more about the importance of food placement on a plate, with the amount of time I've spent in fine restaurants and the 'time' I've spent watching these cooks. But alas, last evening it was all about enjoying this delicious meal.
I guess I better take a food course on the 'plate presentation' of my dinners.
I admit it. I've got some work to do.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Two Locks

I ain't no mathematician, but I think I know what I would do. Named after legendary game show host Monty Hall of Let's Make A Deal" fame, it's called the Monty Hall problem. Given three doors to pick to pick from: one with a brand new car lurking behind it and the other two with identical cans of soup. What would you do? I'm picking door One. I'd be fine with that, but then Monty gets tricky. Of course, he know where the car is, so adds a touch more risk. He opens door number Three to reveal one of those cans of tomato soup. Now, why did he do that? Go and complicate my life like that. But wait. I'm still ok with my choice of doors. I still feel real good about my choice of One. Now, he gets downright mean and dirty. He asks me if I want to change my door. My gut tells me stick with One. The chances of driving away in that car are equal. However mathematicians, who have survived a lot more Statistics and Probability classes than I, tell me I'll improve my chances of winning by switching to Two. They tell me my chances of winning improve to 2/3 of a better chance, than mine of 1/3. Now, self-doubt is beginning to creep in and do its thing. Have I told you lately that I HATE math? I'm too stubborn. I'm sticking with my first choice. You? I'm beginning to think that this choice is not going to be any kind of a 'deal'. 
Monty Hall the classic huckster! Alive and well today, and as Elenka is fond of saying, "...making my brain itch!"
Please pass the crackers. I LOVE tomato soup!

Friday, March 15, 2013

Tuna Wharf

I had never been to Rockport, MA until about three weeks ago. We took a little day trip to Salem, Marblehead, Gloucester and finished up at the tip of Cape Ann peninsula. Surrounded on three sides by the Atlantic, Rockport is primarily a tourist destination these days. We parked a ways a away and walked the out of season, nearly ghost-town streets. The wind was tunneling briskly down the vacant alleys, but we did afford ourselves time to scout the place out and peek in some shop windows. It definitely merits a return trip, but let's make it a July or early August sunny day.

Thursday, March 14, 2013


I'm downstairs.
Just letting you know, I've hit rock bottom. I'm seeing pink elephants in the room! I'm ingesting a large spoonful of wicked truth serum this morning. I'm heading out soon to locate the nearest 12-step program near my town. "My name is Birdman. and I'm an addict." There it's out. My life starts over this morning. I'll be on my way back from Hell soon. I'm going stop hurting those that I love. I'm going to stop livin' the lie. There I've admitted it to friends and family. I know they've been worried about me. About a month ago my family tricked me into an intervention. It failed. I ran away. I'm ok; I said. They were right! I know that now. Addiction is evil. 
Today is the first day of the rest of my life!
"My name is Birdman, and I'm addicted to... Downton Abbey."
There, I've said it. Are you happy? It's out, for all the world to know. I'm not embarrassed anymore. No more watching it on Sunday nights in a darkened room. I'll be with family with all the lights blazing at 9PM. I might even check out Hulu, and see if I might capture season 4, the advanced English version. I hear it's out there.
My sleep will be restful tonight.
Don't worry.
I'm headed upstairs.
I'm back!

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

L. Albert

Those Old Mayonnaise Jars
My grandfather was a rock.
I used to think that everyone’s grandparents were. I know better now. Living has taught me that.
As I open the door and head downstairs, my nostrils are filled with the aroma of freshly cut pine. I make my way to the bottom and find my seat on the bottom stair, amid the the loud screaming sound of a circular saw spewing sawdust everywhere from its perch in the middle of the workshop. There are two more large saws and a lathe occupying space around the room. Above me in the ceiling, are many mayonnaise jars nailed to the ceiling holding assorted items of his trade. Eyeing the bottoms of the glass jars, he knew exactly which screws, nails or bolts he needed for the job. It was one of his little ways to organize his ‘underworld’. There were always pieces of unfinished furniture stacked against the back wall waiting to be completed. Off to the left, is his finishing bench, where he does his final varnishing, shellacking and painting. Most days he works with over an inch of cut sawdust at his feet. It smells so sweet to me. Hanging on the wall, his Eastern Tractor calendar helps to keep this workshop in monthly time. It is a world away from the world I know, but I sit fascinated by this master cabinetmaker and the the pieces of furniture he turns out
When not working on furniture or some toy for a loving grandchild, my grandfather, Albert could be found in his overstuffed, yellow, leather chair. He was a quiet man. He seemed to be able to occupy a conversation, quietly from aside in his flannel shirt and red suspenders. He had a full head of white hair well into his 80’s with glasses framing his face. Encircling his head seemed to be an endless swirl of pipe tobacco.
I was the oldest grandchild and was special to this man, at least in my world I was. He spoiled me rotten!  A surprise car ride to the countryside, a quarter stuffed deep in my hollowed hand, away from Mom’s eyes, or just time spent in his lap keeping time to fiddling music were magic moments for me. 
Once I asked, no begged him, to take me on my first fishing trip and to my delight he said, “Yes, let’s go!”  
So off we went, in his black Chevy coupe, heading towards Portland. We stopped at water, that I know now as the Stroudwater Village dam, near the waterfall that is still there today. Grampa brought out his tackle box and spread feathery lures and dirty worms out across the grass. He showed me how to attach a worm to the sharp hook and all the other little nuances to the game of fishing. It was a fun afternoon, and we even sat back and enjoyed a picnic lunch packed by Nana. As the afternoon waned, I finally got my ‘bite’. As I reeled in my catch in, I was some excited. Sunfish? Perch? What would it be? However, disappointment soon ruled. My ‘fish’ broke the surface and was unbelievably just an old, black buckled boot, filled with disgusting slimy, yellow mud. Yuk! But it was a day! Etched in my memory forever. I’m lucky. I have a lot of these.
Whether it was sitting on the bottom steps of the workshop, staring at those mayonnaise jars in the ceiling, on a summer afternoon fishing trip, or just sitting back and taking in the aroma of his Prince Albert in a can, this man was a rock in my life.
 If he only knew that I think of him almost everyday... 
Maybe he does. 

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Water Way

Seen from afar, it's exciting to live near water. 
It's quite strange, yet wondrous to know that calm scenes like this can turn chaotic, turbulent and oh so very destructive. Looking at the devastation lashed to the Jersey Shore by super storm Sandy, it's unsettling to know that placid and serene scenes of summer days at our beaches can turn suddenly to pure destruction. I was watching some video of what the storm of last week did to Plum Island south of us. The island community is reeling from the worst damage sustained in over 50 years. There is video of a seaside cottage being gobbled up by the water's fury. Over 15 homes along the water's edge are uninhabitable at this point. Point being, that a storm in these parts doesn't need to  build up a huge reputation over days leading up to the event to shatter dreams.
Seaside cottages seem so dreamy in the pleasant days of summer, but do storms like this make you rethink your dreams of paradise?
Me? I never planned to live in Eden anyway.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Penny Candy and more

"I'm Gumby, Dammit."
The skits on SNL with Eddie Murphy got me smiling every time. Yes, it had its dark side and generous dose irreverent humor, but in my mind it was somebody getting back at the rubbery green guy, with that cutesy face. I remember when I first saw him 'slide' across my TV screen way back on a Saturday morning somewhere lost in time. I said, "What is this? Can't they even make him and Pokey 'walk'? Do they not know we can see them sliding away?" Gumby sliding to the rescue on his stupid one foot. Flash forward to 1997, and here we have the bizarro world of Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman Kenny McCornmick of South Park. I must admit the way the boys move is unsettling at times, but the surreal, dark humor set in current times, dealing with issues happening right here, right now is drop dead hilarious to me. Based on this, I guess I better give the ol' Gumby some slack or at least some rope to hang himself with.
After all, "He's Gumby, Dammit!"

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Metal Traps

There was a time that a coffee table made out of a wooden lobster trap covered with glass was must have for a cottage along the ocean. However the era of the wooden lobster trap is gone, replaced by metal ones seen here in the foreground. Making your living off the ocean is a hard life, if you are doing it right. It's hard enough in the heat of summer when everything seems to be going your way, but working the sea, on days like this when the snows is driving and the waters are angry, really brings out the true testament in a soul.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Auto Cover

Dad had an old beat-up, black Mercedes that he used to transport himself to work in. I like to sit in it afternoons after school, when the warn sun would beam in. It had a shiny wood interior, and when I slammed the door shut, it made that wonderful new car sound. It sounded tight, and it shut out the rest of the world.  It was old but not an antique. If it was around these days, it certainly be graced with a plate like this and covered with some delicate wisps of snow.
You motoring around this weekend? I'm hanging close to home.

Friday, March 8, 2013


Life ain't always glamorous. Not far from the hustle and bustle of upscale stores and the happening nightlife of the Old Port is the working waterfront. Jetting off from the main drag of Commercial Street are many wharfs that you can drive to and in some cases on. Leading to the wooden piers are many streets that look like this, mainly dirt and buildings in need  of some repair. This is a pretty good example of what I mean. Now, I captured this view on a Sunday morning, so traffic down here was pretty light. Most days, you'd have to worm your way down to this point. It doesn't look it, but there is money to be made on these streets. It just ain't always pretty.
It's snowing again this morning. Not a lot, but enough. March is still a winter month in these parts.

Birthday wishes heading south this morning to my Sis in Lakeland, where there will be no snow with temps, probably in the low 80s.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Storm Windows

Here are a couple storm windows keeping Old Man winter on the outside in the middle of a good blow. Of course, when I used to help Dad on Stevens put storm windows on in November, it was an entirely different ball game. All the downstair's windows had large, heavy panes that had to be lugged up from the cellar  and screwed into the framework with 4 large bolts and accompanying washers. Dad did the screwing, while I did the holding, and this attaching of the winter windows always seemed fall on the most  blustery of Sundays. The upstairs had no storm windows and that was both good and bad. It made for some noisy, cool winter nights in my bedroom, but also provided easy access to the roof for snow (indoor snowball fights were fun), a place to attach my crystal radio and relief when I just needed a cold February blast to cleanse my face.
Winters growing up in Maine back then, you had to make a lot of your own fun.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013


The corner market. Growing up every corner had at least one. We had a couple, the bigger Red and White, the precursor to the larger places like the A&P that moved a few years later and Carbone's Market. It was packed with everything a mom would want, if in the middle of  supper preparation something in the recipe went missing. I went there for just a couple things the penny candy and the Italian sandwiches. If it was chewy and cherry or orange flavored, it was probably leaving with me. Old man Carbone had a deal on his sandwiches 35¢ for one 3 for a dollar. On special nights, Mom would splurge and buy us all Italians. That was special. The market was truly a mom and pop store too. Mr. and Mrs C- were the sole employees for the most part, but every once in awhile their beautiful black-haired teenage daughter would be behind the counter. On those days, this 12 year old would linger just a few minutes longer making his candy selections. 
"I'll take two cherry licorice sticks and a couple of the orange slices and, ah..."

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Winter Barn

Looking at this barn in the snow yesterday, I was reminded of our Skeleton Club growing up. That room off to the left would have been a great place for our clandestine meetings, instead of our cellar. Did you and your friends have a 'club' back then? Did it have a name? Funny story. Elenka, her sister and the kid next door were charter members of the Tackiacki Club on N. Beverwyck Road. Cripes! They did us one better. They actually had a club song, sung to the tune of Taps. A couple of weeks ago, at her father's service, when the bugler sounded Taps, Elenka smiled deep inside and wanted to gently elbow her sister. No words needed to be exchanged. On this sad day, the memories of childhood brought a smile to her face.
"Day is done,
Kaputted the Sun,
From the balls, the bats and the bars,
All is well,
Things are swell
At the Tackiacki Club"

Happy Birthday wishing going out to my brother, Marchin, a charter member of the Skeleton Club of Stevens Avenue..

Monday, March 4, 2013

Laundry List

My Mom would say this is a hardy bunch, brave enough to hang their laundry out in winter. We use a clothesline, but just spring through fall. I like the smell of clothes that are air-dried, and it saves your wallet quite a bit on electricity too. But to tell you the truth, I'd think twice and maybe even a few more times before I'd hang the weekly laundry out on the front porch for all the world to take in. Now, I've hung clothes out in early December before, and I know when I take them in, sometimes they are frozen solid. When I bring them in the house, they thaw and are still wet. I wonder if this young lady is faced with the same predicament. I think I know. The 'flags' here are flying off this front porch most days that I drive by. Same clothes two and three days at a time. I do believe she is waging the same war that I did that December day, but out there for the world to see, unmentionables and all.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Red Trailer

Weak moments.
Ya, I've had a few. Usually, I don't do a lot of advertising about it though. The steady laughter that ensues could really do a mind job on me. I'll add at this point that I'd never follow through with these, but I can dream. So here are a couple 'weak moments' that I'm revealing for the first time today. Every once in a while, after attending a car show, I get the idea in my head that, although it would be challenging and expensive, it might be loads of fun restoring a classic coupe in my garage. Maybe a dated Jag. Don't worry. This 'dream' fades fast, like the dust trail of roadster on dirt country road. Last weak, while visiting a fellow blogger, I got a peak at a new member of 'her family', Moon. She's a beauty. Could I get on with my life, lugging one of these trailers behind my truck? How about the feeding and care of a horse? Would the added work around the house overwhelm me? Rest assured, this feeling of ownership passes fast.
I love a good dream, AND I must say, I'm pretty skilled at it. Thank goodness though. These idle wandering pass fast!
btw, my counseling sessions begin tomorrow!

Saturday, March 2, 2013


This is a view of the front marble staircase at Portland City Hall. If you want to tie the knot with that special someone, sell hotdogs and other treats out of a wagon you drag behind your truck, rip off the back steps and add a deck, invest in a pooch to soil the city sidewalks or to do a thousand and one other things, these are the elegant steps one must climb to be successful. The marble is magnificent and the brass banister is one you want to run your hand on all the way to curlicue bottom. Of course, if you do, I hope you've had your flu shot, or you are just rollin' the dice.
It's Restaurant Week in the city. Guess what's in my near future plans are?

Friday, March 1, 2013

Theme Day: Cafe Chairs

Today, March 1, 2013 is Theme Day across the CDPB (citydailyphotoblog) community. Some July morning, sitting here in the sun these chairs will be enticing, and I'l be drawn to them. I'll place my backpack nearby, pull out the Nikon, put it on the iron table and probably order up some house blend to keep me company, as I peruse the morning news in the local rag. Yes, I still read the local paper. I want to smell the ink on my fingers. And no lattes for me. You see, you've come across a simple man. One final point to remind you of today. This guy's not crazy though. I ain't sitting in a March sun with my feet shuflin' in snow, drinking a morning brew, and you can take that to the bank!