Yesterday, I drove Carolyn to an industrial park to look at a new manufacturing facility under construction. It will produce precision ball bearings, and some new machinery came in that doesn't meet the standard of clean needed for such work. She will place a bid on getting the equipment in order, and later on, a bid for cleaning the entire facility on a regular basis.

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The Twelve Days Of Christmas—true version


On the first day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
some porridge in a salt tree

On the second day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the third day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the fourth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
four colic burps
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the fifth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
five gopher slings
four colic burps
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the sixth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
six priests a-praying
five gopher slings
four colic burps
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the seventh day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
seven swags a-swaying
six priests a-praying
five gopher slings
four colic burps
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the eighth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
eight maiden monkeys
seven swags a-swaying
six priests a-praying
five gopher slings
four colic burps
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the ninth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
nine loonies laughing
eight maiden monkeys
seven swags a-swaying
six priests a-praying
five gopher slings
four colic burps
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the tenth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
ten loaves of licorice
nine loonies laughing
eight maiden monkeys
seven swags a-swaying
six priests a-praying
five gopher slings
four colic burps
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the eleventh day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
eleven punks a-puking
ten loaves of licorice
nine loonies laughing
eight maiden monkeys
seven swags a-swaying
six priests a-praying
five gopher slings
four colic burps
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

On the twelfth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
twelve dollar dinner
eleven punks a-puking
ten loaves of licorice
nine loonies laughing
eight maiden monkeys
seven swags a-swaying
six priests a-praying
five gopher slings
four colic burps
three French horns
two turkey ducks
and some porridge in a salt tree

Lyrics subject to change...
This is the true version of this often mis-sung song. There may be others equally as true.

Happy Birthday, Jerry

Happy 41st birthday to my eldest son, Jerry. You've always made me proud. Jerry is the one on the right in this photo. His friend is a carp.

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Sometime today, I will upload my 1000th photo to Flickr.

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People, get those Christmas lists updated and send them to me, 'cause like I said yesterday, I know the Man.

Even if you've been naughty, I'll explain to him it wasn't your fault.

You better trust me on this one, and although I can't guarantee anything, I can affirm I am one of his closest confidants.

You gents can send me an email and tell me what you want, but I prefer the ladies sit on my knee and tell me what they desire from Santa. That way, I get a better feel for things...

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My aunt Iva just left from paying me a visit. She is the last of the family generation before mine. She will bake a molasses cake as always, and her daughter will make homemade fudge. Presents from the heart and hands; no more is needed.

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Sleep well tonight and dream of sugar plums....

http://d.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/p/umedia/20071128/cp.442ea683be0cfd78a2d555a804029554

The link above is to the comic strip in case you can't see this one well.

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I like comic strips. Presently, Over the Hedge is my favorite. I also like Pearls Before Swine, Bob the Squirrel, Close to Home, Herman, Gasoline Alley, Shoe, and several more. Ones that I like but are no longer produced are Bloom County, Calvin and Hobbes, and the all time greatest, Pogo, drawn and written by my mentor and hero, Walt Kelly.

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I like Christmas music, as long as it isn't overly religious. My favorite is Deck us all with Boston Charlie, and I've included the lyrics for you music lovers and poetry buffs.

Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!

Don't we know archaic barrel,
Lullaby Lilla boy, Louisville Lou?
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!

Bark us all bow-wows of folly,
Polly wolly cracker n' too-da-loo!
Hunky Dory's pop is lolly gaggin' on the wagon,
Willy, folly go through!

Donkey Bonny brays a carol,
Antelope Cantaloup, 'lope with you!
Chollie's collie barks at Barrow,
Harum scarum five alarum bung-a-loo!

As sung and played by the The Okefenokee Orchestra and Perloo Society.

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What you all want ol' Santy to bring you for Christmas? If you tell me, I can make sure he knows, because I am a personal friend and confidant of his.

We've had several days of cloudy and fairly warm weather, but very little rain has come. The gloomy conditions, along with Christmas blahs, makes my winter time depression worse. The loss of daylight doesn't help any.

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The photo is actually a doodle born of boredom. I never intended to upload it for public view, or I would have centered the light and door. For pure meanness, I wanted it to have flames all around the border—I did make one—and file it for future use. But, I'm running low on photos to quench my Flickr thirst, so I created a combo color/bw and posted it. At best, it is still a doodle.

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The skies turned sunny and the air cooler this afternoon. Another day closer to spring.

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Just because I dislike Christmas, doesn't mean I won't enjoy part of the goings on. There are a few very good seasonal movies that I try to see each year. The original Miracle on 34th Street is a favorite, as is A Christmas Story. In the later offerings, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation is good, as is Home Alone. One movie that a lot of people love but I can't tolerate is It's A Wonderful Life. I liked Jimmy Stewart in a couple of his western genre movies, but his acting ability was limited, and his voice was whiny. I like The Santa Clause and A Nightmare Before Christmas.

Why don't you tell me what your favorite Christmas movies are?

The Christmas Curse

Welcome Home Robin! I hope you had a satisfying holiday. I bet Libby is jumping for joy.

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I've come down with a case of the can't-help-its, better known as seasonal blahs. Post-turkey and pre-insanity blues. Christmas has gotten too out of hand for my tastes. It should be a simple time for family and friends getting together and celebrating another year of life. Instead, it is a celebration of money and materials. Lay-away; buy; charge; spend; borrow! What the hell for? No one benefits in the long run except the purveyors of commercialism. How important is it to the supply chain? For some merchants, it can make a third or more of their annual sales, and half of their yearly income! Re-damn-diculous!

We treat it like having one-night-stand sex; slam, bam, thanky ma'm and it's over 'til next year. Flirting begins in September, then by Halloween we're booking a cheap motel room, and at Thanksgiving we are naked and in bed. Now comes the good part; a whole month of foreplay, followed by twenty-four hours of unbelieveable intercourse, climaxing in an orgasm of give and take; grunts, groans, and screams of delight... and it is over. But wait; O my God! The sleazy encounter has resulted in us having caught a transmittable disease; indebtuptoourass-itis! We didn't practice safe holiday. We reached into our pants and whipped out our well endowed credit card and stuck it in every slot available, even allowing strangers to handle it. For the next nine months we curse, threaten, promise, and pull our hair. Never again! But September always rolls around. Even though we haven't paid our full price for the previous year's dalliance and indulgence, we begin anew.

Bah; humbug!

I'm stuffed to the gills and glad the holiday is over. Gets me another step closer to spring. Hope all of you had a most excellent holiday. Are y'all looking forward to Christmas, or dreading it—or better still—don't care one way or the other? Since all my grandchildren are grown, it is just another pain I have to endure.

The photo is of Eastern Red Cedar, and for me, is the prettiest and best fragranced tree for Christmas. I imagine the city would frown if one of these went missing from the park.

When I was little, my uncles would take me with them into the fields to find a suitable cedar tree. The best was one with a single trunk from which the cows had removed the lower limbs by rubbing them as scratching posts, and they looked much like the ones pictured here. If we didn't find such, they would usually cut down a large tree and remove the top six feet or so for Santa to place my loot beneath.

All that was left was taking turns carrying the unwieldy greenery home, and that could be a mile or more away, across hills, fields, thickets, and barb wire fences.

The last one we had like this was in 1987. I was still able to get around fairly well, and some months earlier I'd had found the perfect tree. Carolyn, JJ, and I went into the fields with a saw, and the idea was to capture, subdue, and cut down the prize. We found it and managed to get it on the ground, and I was to carry it out myself, but that sucker was heavier than I thought. Carolyn was tired and cranky, and volunteered to stay with the tree while JJ and I went for the truck to haul it out. Carolyn wasn't much of a country girl and didn't care for the walk.

By the time we got the truck and drove the long way around to the gate, Carolyn was waiting there for us with the tree. Apparently the cows came to investigate, and she—not knowing their intentions—grabbed the tree and made a run for the road. Good girl!

We got it home and trimmed out, and it brought back so many perfect memories (after so long a time, some memories were probably imagined). I took a piece of the unused trunk and whittled some shavings, retrieved twigs from discarded branches, and put it all in a potpourri pot. The scent, along with the natural aroma from the tree, filled the house with the goodness of the season.

Sadly, the entire day wasn't perfect. Just as we finished decorating the tree, the rescue squad pulled into my next door neighbor's driveway. He had a massive heart attack earlier in the day, and his wife found him dead when she came home from work.

Happy Thanksgiving! Thought I might get to relax a bit today, but I've managed to get Carolyn's business checking balance all screwed up. Just now got it in some semblance of order.

Carolyn is off to the store picking up a few last minute items for the feast.

The mockingbird was at Bojangle's yesterday waiting for a handout. He got part of my steak biscuit and for desert I gave him a piece of my apple-cinnamon biscuit. Actually, I had two of each biscuit... So goes the diet.

What we're really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?
~Erma Bombeck, "No One Diets on Thanksgiving".

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Today is another beautiful fall day with hazy blue skies and near 70 degree temp. Supposed to have thunder storms tonight and in the morning, then turning colder with snow flurries tomorrow night.

Forever on Thanksgiving Day
The heart will find the pathway home.
~Wilbur D. Nesbit

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Thanks for leaving the nice comments, C. and Alice. And thanks Kathleen for the comment on my story. Thanks to Maggie for stopping by here and on Lord Bubbha's.

None is more impoverished than the one who has no gratitude. Gratitude is a currency that we can mint for ourselves, and spend without fear of bankruptcy.
~Fred De Witt Van Amburgh

It's almost time for my favorite food day of the year. I suppose I'll have to dine at home seeing as no one invited me over to share a meal.

I'll postpone my diet 'til after the holidays, because to try it now I would only be kidding myself. But I promise to go on bread and water as soon as the festivities are past. Promise!

For those of you in the US, I hope you have plenty to be thankful for and lots to eat. If possible, take a few minutes and think about the treacheries ongoing in this world that are making little children starve.

I hope my very dear internet friend has a wonderful holiday, and in case she doesn't know of whom I speak, she lives in Philadelphia, PA. Bless you, young lady.

I hope my vacationing internet friend in France is having a good holiday.

Alice, I hope you and Vanessa and the younguns enjoy the best ever Thanksgiving. I remember the ones we used to have...

To everyone else I share my life with on the internet, may all the good things be with you wherever you are.

Girl, you better not tell on me. Carolyn doesn't read my blog, either. In fact, she doesn't have a clue as to what I do online.

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There has been very little to write about today, so I reckon I won't bother you with drivel...

Catch you tomorrow.

Didn't make it to Unicoi Co. yesterday, but went back to Wilbur and and Watauga dams in Carter Co. I made a few photos there that I will post here and on Flickr, and I bet people will think I've saturated the color. But, they are like I saw them.

One especially I wouldn't touch. If I post it, I will probably be needing a place to hide out for a week or so; and I intend to post it soon.

Should be interesting!

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Here it is feast time, and I'm about to put myself on my first ever diet. I should weigh no more than 230 lbs., but am now up to 270. Even 230 is 10 more than I would like to carry, but if I can get in the vicinity, I'll be ecstatic. The hateful thing about dieting and losing weight is that it is so easy to backslide and put the pounds back on.

Carrying the extra pounds is putting too much pressure on my already wrecked joints, and it causes the three artificial ones to wear faster. We will see...

Can anyone identify the circular object in the lower left of this photo? The photograph was made in 1985 while waiting for a solar eclipse to commence. The whole thing is probably a reflection in a puddle, but I can't be sure about the object.

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Not much happening here today, except it has gotten cold. Not miserably cold; just uncomfortable.

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May head off to Unicoi County tomorrow and ride some back roads. There should be some good pickings for photos of old barns and abandoned houses. I need a good dose of rust. I'm running low on stuff to work with for here and Flickr, and if I don't find some decent subjects, I'll be doing a lot of self portraits. None of you have seen me with my hair this long and my salt-and-pepper beard; mostly salt, I'm afraid.

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How cold is it in Paris, Robin. Not cold enough to dampen your excitement, I bet.

It's been snowing on and off for several hours; nothing serious, though. I may as well declare autumn officially over and get on with winter.

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You know what I'd like to do? I'd love to be able to sit down in a bathtub full of hot water and soak for a few hours, or at least until I pruned up real good. Actually, getting in the water isn't too much a problem; getting back out is the catch. I can sit on the edge of the tub and splashily ease myself in, but lifting more than 250 cantankerous pounds back out with sore joints is virtually impossible. I'll stick to taking a couple of cold creek baths each year, and an occasional shower.

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I haven't asked lately so, are all one or two of my loyal readers doing well? I hope so. And don't forget that I have an email address in case you want to fuss at me.

Robin, if you get to read this before you leave, bring us back some memories.

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The beauty of autumn is certainly winding down. This photo is a view from my bedroom deck looking due south across a neighbor's back lawn.

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Am I ever miffed! You folks will let me go hungry on Thanksgiving and not think a thing about it. Not one invite did I get to share a meal with a friend. Sniff... I mean that is just plain cold, sniff-sniff. That's ok, though. The Salvation Army and the Haven of Mercy will provide sustenance. It won't be home cooked with the love of my friends piled on—sniff—but I'll get by. When you sit down to a table of plenty and give thanks for your prosperity, don't even feel a twinge in your heart for me. Just disregard yesterday's post; I should have known better.

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The whacked-out weather man says we may get a snow flurry by this weekend. That's ok, just another step on the road to spring.

Hectic day! One of Carolyn's customers—a bank—direct deposits her money into an account. Somehow, they missed paying her for one of the branch offices she cleans. We informed them of the mistake, and instead of depositing the correct amount, they repaid her for another branch which pays three times as much. Carolyn missed a doctor's appointment so she could try to get it figured out. Now, the bank has taken back the incorrect payment and says they don't owe her anything else. Every month she sends them six invoices, and every month they pay for six; except this month. The bank has a new bean counter at the main office, so I suppose he is to blame.

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What kind of Thanksgiving are you going to have? Traditional; exotic; none of my business? Of course, Canada has already had their feast day this year, and I don't know if any of the rest of the world has such a celebration.

Carolyn makes the best pan dressing and potato salad I've ever had. But that doesn't mean it is the best anywhere. If you all would be so kind as invite me over for dinner or supper that day, I would be more than happy to tell you yours is the best. I also like candied sweet potatoes, ham or turkey with cranberry sauce, green beans cooked with a piece of streaked meat, and corn; cream style is preferable, but whole kernel or on the cob will be fine. Fresh, hot homemade dinner rolls with gobs of butter are always good. Iced tea for beverage. For toppers, pumpkin and sweet potato pie, and maybe even a little pecan pie if you have it. If you splurged and made fruit cake, I wouldn't get mad.

Leave you address and let me know the time to be there. The comment box will be fine, or you can email me.

This is a photo of a section of the little park where I've been taking a lot of my recent photos. My house is just over the hill on the left side.

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I am slowly battening down for dreaded winter. I've a terrible case of the blues and can't-help-its.

For the first time in many years, I hope we have some snow. Mom Nature, if you are reading this, moderation please. Don't dump on me all winter long.

I guess I'll go to Wally World and pick up a new pair of long johns; just in case the power goes off for an extended period. I don't have any red ones.... I will want ones with the back flap so that all of me won't get cold when I have to go.

I'll load up on kerosene this weekend; we use lamps and a heater that require such. My grandma used to call it coal oil. As a child, I would try to imagine people squeezing a lump of coal 'til the oil dripped out.

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Have a safe and happy journey, Robin.

C.: Mighty nice you didn't toss those kid's photos. Your work is so beautiful.

Kathleen: Thanks for reading my stories.

Robin: I hope this holiday will be your best ever.

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Not much happening; old folks life's are so dull.

Drove to Watauga Lake yesterday and back into downtown Elizabethton. One or two decent photos. It was a beautiful day and I managed to walk about 200 yards at the lake before my knee gave out. I wish I could have gone farther on the trails. Actually I wouldn't have gone that far but I had to find a place to pee. The few beers I had at lunch didn't bother my head, but they gave my kidneys a good workout.

Today I am having fun paying bills. I'm trying to convince Carolyn to quit her business and retire as the cost of doing business just isn't worth the effort. Gasoline prices are the biggest reason, and her fuel costs have gone to more than $500 per month for each van. She has three of them on the road.

Singing

You are correct, C. Flickr has slowed somewhat. I think after all the Halloween excitement, folks are taking a break. Halloween probably is the best holiday for fun photos. I've already begun "modifying" old photos to post during the dreary days of winter.

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I found a small elastic bandage to cover my shameful zit, and tonight is karaoke night at the pub. If I go there this evening, I plan to be a participant and not a mere wall flower. I've been practicing Hank William's Your Cheating Heart, or "Yore Cheatin' Heart" as it sounds when he sings it. I will also don my best falsetto and do It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels by Kitty Wells. It was the first feminine protest song I ever heard, I reckon.

I won't stay long at the bar, though. I have an inclination to over do it with the suds and then try to drive. And when I do, I think I have to stop by and see everybody I know, which leads to more imbibing. Last time I did such foolishness to a big extent was 25 years ago. I passed out while driving, went through a fence and into a pond. Man, did I sober up fast! I was driving the old four-wheel drive Ford, and that machine would go anywhere, including getting my sorry ass out of the pond before the law arrived. I spent about an hour on round-about routes before sneaking home. Lesson learned before anyone got hurt!

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Stopped by the juke joint for a few minutes this evening, but I sang not one stanza; the place was packed. I managed to get a couple of beers, but couldn't get close enough to the bar to pay for them. That's ok, though; I've had a tab with them for more than thirty years. Sony knows he'll get paid.

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The photo is my second attempt at using Orton effect.

Zit

It's the end of the world as I know it! That one terrible affliction that we beautiful people fear most... I have a zit on the end of my nose! Don't laugh! You feminine types can throw on a little powder or zit cover and face the world, whereas we masculine types just can't do that. It is particularly difficult when you have a face you enjoy seeing first thing of the morning. I've a face Brad Pitt would kill for. No, not as pretty as his, but the he-man type: rugged, bold and wise in the ways of the world. I have beautiful green eyes that can adore you or see through you. I've a smile that will completely disarm you or make you squirm. Marble statues of Greek gods crumble to dust when I stand before their eon old presences.

And I have a zit on perfectly formed nose!

I noticed it yesterday as I was trimming nose hair, and as quickly as I saw it, I fashioned a hood for my head. I wear it around the house, but tomorrow I must appear in the doctor's office for my weekly injection of dope. I imagine I'll have to suck it up and face the shame and indignity of public exposure. And it won't begin to get well until it has exacted all the disgrace and ridicule that a vicious and mean spirited public can bestow.

"If you had taken a bath regularly like civilized people should, it wouldn't have happened," you say. My answer; I do take a bath regularly, twice a year! "Not good enough," you say. My reply; it's worked all these years! I also say, let him without pimples throw the first Clearasil.

Phooey! Life sucks!

Hillary

Will you vote for Hillary if she is the Democratic candidate? The biggest problem I have with her is the same I have for the rest of them: Don't do anything you will have to pay for at the next election. She was one of the first to jump on the Bush/Cheney war wagon, and now says it was a mistake and she was misled. I knew it was a mistake and I wasn't misled. I didn't like the Iraqi dictatorship, but it was obvious that Saddam wasn't in bed with Osama. It was pretty convincing that Iraq didn't have WMDs. If anyone whom supported the invasion of a sovereign nation and overthrow of a stable government had looked into the situation just a little bit, they would have seen the present turmoil coming. But no one noticed the the foil for the plot; Iran and its religion based government ready to pounce on any instability in the region, and allies like Russia, China, and even France (covertly) willing to back them with money, weapons, and words. Iran's oil is important enough to these pathetic regimes that they will conduct morally reprehensible acts to curry favor of the ayatollahs and their puppet government.

Vote for whomever you wish, but I suggest you carefully think about what you are getting yourself, your family, and the remnants of this once proud nation into. If it comes down to voting for the lesser of evils, make sure you are fully aware of the things the president of the United States is capable of.

I swore after the last presidential election that I would never vote again, and I didn't waste a ballot last year. Unless I find a non-politician running and advocating my social and moral beliefs, I will hold to my oath.

End of sermon.

Chris is pretty sick again; her thyroid has stopped functioning. Medication isn't helping much, and she can't see a specialist before February. We worry about her.

The air today is cool, only in the mid-fifties. First real day of autumn, for sure.

Stopped by the park again, but I didn't have a long sleeve shirt on and the wind was pretty biting. Not much in the photo line except for the airplane.

I've noticed things are slowing somewhat on good old Flickr. I guess the cooler weather is tempering people's desire to make photos. It damn sure is for me. I envy artists; cold weather doesn't affect their work. In fact, it may give them more time inside to do their creating.

Everyone have a good evening and night.

A Cat's Tail

It has been two weeks since I last shaved, nearly a month since last I bathed, and about eight months since getting a hair cut. I may be scroungy looking, odoriferous, and morally bankrupt, but I feel good. Would I feel as good if I were clean shaven, my body soaked in soapy water each day, and of high moral character? No! being a hippy is as much a state of mind as of bodily appearance. And I am as hip as it gets. Is this an act to garner attention? No! I am the last person that would be vain enough to want more attention than what I get. I have tried to be low profile all my life, and will continue to be so inclined. I am not a "type A" personality. I don't go in public unless it is a have-to cause; I don't like crowds.

Why do I write this pitiful blog if I don't want attention? Once upon a time, I had a mini-stroke that left me slightly dyslexic. I have left-right confusion in writing unless I practice often. Even with daily writing, sometimes it takes forever to to prepare a legible paragraph. It is why I've slowed my short story writing to a crawl. So, whomever reads this is reading therapy and nothing more.

The affliction hasn't affected my ability to read, however. I've been able to read and comprehend 500 to 700 words per minute since about the seventh grade.

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Someone whom got some new artist tools for her birthday is just impressing the hell out of me with her work. She has always been very good, but she seems to have moved to another level with her drawing. Keep the relaxed intensity going; your talent is bursting out all over.

Drove to Elizabethton and on through Stoney Creek to the high mountain area called Shady Valley. A most lovely place surrounded by mountains and natural beauty. There are orchards, along with small farms and cranberry bogs. The last time I was there was in the early '90s, when I took my mom on a quest for Winesap apples.

We turned west toward Bristol—a route I'd never taken—and I believe this was the first time I ever got seasick while driving. Crookedest mountain road I've ever traveled! We turned into Little Oak campground, where I got a few photos of South Holston lake. We are considering purchasing a small camper of some sort next year, so campground inspection on our little journeys has become a habit.

I still haven't had my hair cut. Carolyn said I look like a woman. I said am I a pretty woman? She said I look like and old gray haired granny woman. Now, I haven't shaved in a week. If I'm going to look like an old gray haired granny woman, I will look like one with an old gray beard!

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I keep finding the simplest things to photograph near my home. I stopped by a local park last week and found some things I liked by just walking around the small parking lot. Fortunately I didn't have to walk far, because my knee is giving me fits lately. Today I went back to the same place and decided to walk a little farther. Behold, the city had put a little pond in place when they built the park about 10 years ago. Somehow, they neglected to tell me. I got some satisfying photos, but nothing that will make the walls of MoMA.

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News flash... Just caught a thieving raccoon in the act of raiding my bird feeder.

After all of yesterday's fervor, today has been duller than mud, and that ain't bad. Too much excitement can make an old man's arteries harden, and that can be good or bad, depending on the vessels affected.

Didn't sleep well last night, lying awake thinking of things to write about today. Thought of some good ones, I'm sure, but I finally nodded off and forgot each and everyone of those profound ideas.

I would like to know if the birthday girl's day was as bad as she thought it might be. Hopefully, it was good, especially after she realized the day after is just another day, but it too demands to be lived to its fullest.

I'm beginning to get low on photos for Flickr purposes, and I won't go out in the cold, cruel world to make more, so I suppose it will be an endless winter of self portraits. Don't worry; I don't do nudes of myself. There is no way I could be a tasteful or artistic nude! Some things are better left unseen, but, if the public really, really demanded such, I could probably provide a "little" something for their viewing enjoyment.