Musing

12:45 pm. I wonder why? If I get caught speeding in an automobile, I may have to pay a fine of $100 to $200 for something that isn't even classified as a misdemeanor. If I am an illegal alien in the US, I am a felon that receives nearly all the benefits of a citizen, yet I have to pay no taxes. If I'm caught, I'll be deported, and within a month, I'll be back in the US illegally and still not paying taxes. What are you going to do about it?

Why are we wasting our soldiers lives in the Mid-east and wrecking the lives of their families back home? Why are we spending billions of uncollected tax dollars on a "war" that can't be won? Hell, we don't even know whom the enemy is. What are you going to do about it?

Why are we ignoring the obvious about the rapidly changing world weather patterns? How long has it been since we've had a cold, snowy winter in East Tennessee? From the time I can remember—before 1950—we had such winters until the late 1980s. Since the end of winter in 1992, we've had two big snows. I don't like winter and a lot of snow, but it is better than what is happening. We've had two major droughts around here since the mid-eighties. What are you going to do about it?

Why am I asking you this, when you probably don't give a big enough damn to do something on your own. After all, Washington will fix it. If you did care, you would be screaming at our elected government, the one YOU put in place and that dwells in the money pits of hell, to get off its ass and do something positive for our country and our world. What are YOU going to do about it?

America, ask yourself the same thing Neil Young asked in a song; Why do I keep fucking up?

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The temp is now 88°, light wind, and extremely hazy. Relative humidity is 68%.
Plainly said: It is hot and muggy.

2:02 pm. Ashley just phoned to tell us that Chris is being admitted to the hospital. Kidney infection for one thing. Carolyn is on the way over there.

It is 5:30 am. The house is quiet except for the ticking of the clock and a occasional whir or click from some appliance or such thing on which we have come to depend.

Slept very little this night, which is becoming more common. Sleeping pills are cheap, but I consider the use of them as borrowing sleep. Somehow and some when, the debt must be paid.

Looking through the rest of the photos that I did yesterday. It was much fun to get out and about, but the photos were not so great. We picnicked at the Davy Crockett Birthplace Park, which interestingly was nearly free of people. Oh, the pool was busy, and campers were in campgrounds, but the rest was peaceful.

Met a couple from Virginia that came for a visit. The wife had previously been to the Alamo, so they figured they had ol' Davy pretty well covered. When I informed them that there were at least two more places they might want to see concerning the frontiersman, they agreed that it would be worth the effort.

11:18 am. Finished the time sheets, printed paychecks, paid some bills, took the Ford van for oil change and tire rotation.

3:10 pm. The thermometer says 93 degrees, and the mountains are lost in the ubiquitous haziness of summer. The nearest is only three miles from me, yet it isn't much more than visible. The range quickly disappears into a mist of natural and man made pollutants. They will probably be as such until a cold front slips in.

Some of the local school systems have begun classes, so be extra careful. The youngest students are small and difficult to see, especially if you are operating an SUV.

Went out to take pictures today. It rained.

First, thanks Alice, for the e-card. YOU brightened my day. How long has it been since we met? I went to work at Texas Instruments on December 19, 1973. Fred was one of the first I got to know when y'all were living in the apartment. So, I guess we first met in January of '74. You two bought the house in the spring of that year, didn't you? Even with the tragedy of Fred's passing, there were hundreds of good times to remember. A lot of those good times for Fred, Ken, and me were more of an endurance thing for you. And for Brenda and Carolyn too, I guess. But, we were young and there was always tomorrow. Although we are not quite so young now, we still have some tomorrows left.

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After Fred died, and for a big part of the eighties, I was stoned into a different world. Never did fool with heavy drugs very much, but I had my share of reefer. When I finally quit the herb and reduced my alcohol habit, the physical pain it covered for so many years caught up with me. Sometimes I wonder if the benefits of masking the pain were worth the other damages I was perpetrating on myself; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Even now, I find that a couple of fingers of strong whiskey will reduce the discomfort for a while. I prefer moonshine, but rum, tequila, or good old Black Jack will suffice if the dosage is increased. Why am I telling y'all this? Just in case you want to buy me a drink some day. If you do, I'm easy to be taken advantage of by the ladies, if you know what I mean. I reckon that giving up cigarettes in 1983 is the biggest favor I did for myself in that decade.

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Thanks for the email and comments on my photos, Jeremy. You are a special grandson and a special man.

6:46 am--Being I'm the birthday boy, I'll say first thing this morning:
Thank you Robin.
I awoke with a terrible headache. Must of had a bad dream or something.

3:31 pm--Got my shot. My nurses and doctor told me happy birthday. We all lived happily ever after.

Went out to take photos last evening. It rained.
Stayed home today. Sunny weather.
Shot day is tomorrow.

Come to me on the high mountain my children, so that I may teach you the way of contentment. Better bring a rain coat.

Image of Clark's Creek fire access road.

Thanks Alice, for the early greeting and for rubbing it in. Like you said, a couple of months!

More blood work today...; I feel like Dracula's blood bank. Was Bella Lugosi the best movie Dracula?

As today is yesterday's tomorrow, tomorrow is another today. I hope you all have many, many tomorrows and that you love to live and live to love.

The photo is from Pleasant View Church of the Brethren.

Breathe, my Children. Be Alive!

So sore today. The little trip last evening has exacted its toll on my creaking joints, but damn, it was fun. Thanks Princess for forcing my hand and making me get out and about. I owe you one.

Another thunderstorm just rumbled through.

It's great to be alive and be in Tennessee!--Charlie Daniels

I made up my tiny mind to go make some photographs this evening, even though it had been storming and was still raining. By the time I reached my first destination, the sun was making an appearance, but I didn't get any satisfying photos there. I drove through the countryside and found a couple of church buildings to shoot at. Just as the sun was getting low, I arrived in Watauga Flats and got off a couple of shots. Generally, I don't do sunsets, as there are so many already on Flickr, but being as I didn't have much to show for an evening's work, I tried one. Results: No better than average.

Looks like anyone would know that one bagel is sufficient! But no; Hell No! I had to eat three. I deserve to be sick. I WANT to be sick. I'm sick in the freaking head! I invite anyone who reads this to give my ass a virtual kick. If you see me in person, kick it again.

As the end of July looms, and the end of Dog Days nears, it is time to plan ahead just a little bit for the coming of autumn. A new sweater perhaps, or getting the car ready for the cold, wet days of winter. Whatever your plans for the days of ever decreasing daylight, be sure to live like it will be the best season ever.

A full moon will grace us Sunday. Such occasions are said to bring out the weirdos and lovers. Either or both will fit me, for it has been said that I am a weird lover. Well, as long as I have someone to love, a little freakishness won't hurt. Might even help. Beats the same old same old.

Well, my children, peaceful be your life. Smile and an angel will smile with you.

Shot day again. I'm about to get burned out with getting these damned shots every week. In fact, I'm getting burned out with a lot of things, but mostly people. No, not you. It's the insincere ones that'll tell you anything to keep you strung out. One would think after all these years I would know better than to get involved with such nonsense. But no, gullible old Ken just keeps asking for it, and the purveyors of hypocrisy just keep on shoveling.

What am I going to do about perpetually having sand kicked in my face? Probably nothing. Actually, it does hurt some, but I've learned to live with pain, mental and physical, although I don't always understand why I was chosen for the honor. Even when I look in the mirror, the fellow looking back at me will shake his head and quickly avert his eyes. He doesn't want to shame me, I guess.

Anyway, that's enough about me. How are you doing?

In a little more than a week, I will be 63 years old. I haven't lived a very eventful life, but am I not dissatisfied with the way I lived it. I haven't learned much in those years, although two things do stand out. One is, I've learned that I have learned nothing about women. Second is, diarrhea doesn't wait for you to finish eating supper.

Just a Monday. Toast for breakfast and a TV dinner for supper. Yech! I am lucky enough to have a clementine for desert; make that two clementines. Love 'em; simply love 'em!

The powers that be decided that I was a perfect fit as a Flickr group administrator. I guess they knew I didn't have anything else to do and wasn't smart enough to screw things too badly.

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Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.--Edgar Allen Poe

I've spent the past few days resting my swollen feet and ankles. Haven't been outside the house since I got my shot on Friday.

Been going through old negatives, again. Scanning, cleaning them up and cropping when necessary with Paintshop Pro. I've done about 40 since Friday night, and have many hundreds to go, just in one notebook.

Yeah, I know. Most of them aren't my best stuff, but they please me, and that is all that matters. "To thine own self be true."



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To Thine Own Self Be True

Yet here, Laertes! Aboard, aboard for shame!
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are stay'd for.
There ... my blessing with thee!
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg’d comrade.  Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel but, being in,
Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgement.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!

From Hamlet
--William Shakespeare

Shot day and a good day. Hearts are lightened and robins are happy. Sometimes on these special days, I forget that I'm a world class grouch and occasionally I smile. I hope you'll smile with me.

One time, my old friend Fred and I were sitting at at a bar, carrying on our usual bull session. I had been having some family problems and was a little out of sorts. I started telling him some of the things that were troubling me, and asked his advice as to what he thought I ought to do. Fred turned up his beer can and drained it, hinting that he needed a new one. I got the barkeep's attention and ordered two more, expecting my friend to alleviate some of my problems with his excellent opinion. He looked to be in deep thought for a minute or so, then said to me, "It looks like you've got a family problem".

I sat still for a few moments, expecting more than the obvious, but Fred just looked at me, raised his eyebrows and shook his head, letting me know I had his sympathy, but he was not getting involved in anyone else's family business.

With no one else to turn to, I went about patching up my problems on my own, and it didn't take me long to do so. One or two got mad at me, and one or two got glad at me, but it made no difference either way because I did what I had to do, and everyone knew where I stood on the matter. Time, as it usually does, took care of everyone's feelings, and after a while, we were able to get together and be as normal a family as possible.

Later on, I told Fred that I appreciated him helping me with my problems. He knew that I meant it and replied, "Any time; now buy me a beer".

Family problems are something we all have, and sooner or later, we have to say enough is enough and do whatever it takes to remedy the state of affairs. Once the mind is settled to the fact that we've done everything we can do, we go to sleep and let time work its magic.

The doctor wasn't in. I lost a night's sleep and had to take a bath for nothing.

I did get a new mouse, though. One of those cordless jobs. Had one once before—same brand—but it ate a pair of batteries every two weeks. They claim this one will last up to eight months before new batteries are needed.

A Wall

Mouse is still broken, and now, so am I. Doctor tomorrow. Probably nothing serious, but at my age, anything can be cause for concern. Not so much concern by me, but Carolyn gets dyspepsia when she thinks I'm sick. She always thinks I'm sick, bless her heart. Sometimes I have to pretend to be a well constructed wall even as my mortar crumbles.

I've patched together a barely useable mouse, a little fellow made for laptops, that doesn't fit my crooked fingers at all. Every time I move it, I accidentally press the right-side button with my backward-bent ring finger, which brings myriads of pop-ups and I get mad and begin throwing things. I stuck a piece of paper under the button, and I'm getting along better. I just have to press extra hard to get it to work.

A Cruel World

Mouse is broken! Computer nearly useless! Can't breathe! Going fast!

Decay is inherent in all compounded things. Strive on with diligence. - Buddha

After leaving the church and Headtown yesterday, I drove through what used to be called "Lover's Lane". I imagine there is still a little loving going on there, but it is in the myriad houses built along the now paved road. Used to be an excellent place for back-seat lovin', at least that's what I've been told.

We used to hunt for mushrooms (morels) on the ridge that parallels the road, but it now has homes dotted along its crest and subdivisions on its flanks. Where all these people are coming from to build and live in these big houses is a mystery to me. It is said that some of them have indoor swimming pools. Even more baffling, is why have they come here. Retirees, I hear. Buicks and Escalades; Lexus' and Lincolns. I've lived in coal mining communities in West Virginia that aren't nearly as boring as this stagnated waterhole of an area.

Anyway, I spotted an old manure spreader and small bulldozer that seem waiting to be photographed. I'll get to them, directly.

Shot Day! Hooray!

Blood work is done, as is my weekly injection.

Of the four eggs laid by momma robin, three hatched and two chicks survived. Mom and dad are working nonstop to feed the family. It has rained just enough for earthworms to venture near the surface, and just in time. Another week will see the little ones off the nest and into the nearby brush. Hopefully, a cat or 'coon don't catch them.

Haven't been out to take photos this week, and it's making me loonier. Been working on and posting some older photos the entire time. I'm losing feeling in my right foot, but maybe I'll be able to walk enough to get some more photos on the Roan this Sunday. Maybe not.

Back To The Island

Back To The Island
Leon Russell

Now the day is gone and I sit alone and think of you, girl
What can I do without you in my life?
I guess that our good thing just had to end that way
The hardest one to lose of all the games we played

But the time is past for living in a dream world
Lying to myself can't make that scene
Of wondering if you love me or just making a fool of me
Well I hope you understand I just had to go back to the island

Chorus:

And watch the sun go down (sit and watch the sun go down)
Hear the sea roll in (listen to the sea roll in)
But I'll be thinking of you (yes, and I'll be thinking of you)
And how it might have been (thinking how it might have been)
Hear the night birds cry (listen to the night birds cry)
Watch the sunset die (sit and watch the sunset die)
Well I hope you understand I just had to go back to the island

Well all the fun has died, It's raining in my heart
I know deep down in my soul I'm really gonna miss you
But it had to end this way with all the games we played
Well I hope you understand I just had to go back to the island

Repeat Chorus

Repeat Chorus

One of the great things about this song is the lead-in. The sound of waves crashing, though not overpowering, makes me want to be there.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child!

I'm still not up to getting out. Tomorrow, I will have to do so for more blood work and my perpetual shot. Bummer, man!

I need another summer of love, like we laid on ourselves in '67. Man, we grooved to the great music explosion, like Soul Man with Sam and Dave, Brown Eyed Girl from Van Morrison, The Association's Windy, I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night by the Electric Prunes, Jefferson Airplane's Somebody To Love. These were like just the air hits, man,

Best of all, man, was the Monterey Pop Festival. Hands down the best Rock and Roll gathering ever. Like, the gods walked with us, man.

Love, my children.

Hurt

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."--Neil Gaiman

Why?

Why do sliced tomatoes taste better than cubed tomatoes?

Not much today except for a swollen foot that doesn't want to cooperate. Still can't get out to try for some photos. Bummer.

I'm having a relapse to my "hippier" days, by allowing my hair—what little I have—to grow long. It's down to my collar and half-way down my big—but sexy—ears. No beard or mustache this time around, though. I don't plan on taking a bath but maybe once a month, and dirty facial hair tends to attract small critters that manage to get in one's nose and mouth. An old, overweight, arthritic, and white-haired hippy. You gotta love me, because I love you.

I've a reefer necklace and a peace pin somewhere that I need to dig up. Tie-dyes, flip-flops and bell bottoms for social occasions like concerts, love-ins, and Sunday peace marches. Cut-off raggedy-ass jeans, a blue polka-dot bandanna for headwear, and a Pink Floyd shirt for every day should complete my transformation. No underwear! Ever!

I still have my water pipes, bongs, roach clips, and hash pipes hidden away. The old Mother Jug is awaiting the day of the new revolution. She's a great shot-gunner! Easy Rider will flick at my pad this weekend, and Cream's Disraeli Gears will be spinning on the 33. Karma will be good and I'll be freakin'!

Peace, my children.

Back To The Island

Feeling better. I was really down sick yesterday. Very sore knees today, but I can live with it.

No takers on my dream from Friday night. I've been listening to some old 33s, and one was Back to the Island by Leon Russell, a song about a guy leaving his girlfriend to return to the tropic islands. I guess this is where my dream has its roots. It was a favorite song of my friends Brenda and Ken Moore. Fortunately, Brenda got to go to the islands before leaving us so prematurely.

Russell is one of the best writers of love songs that I've heard. He also did some country stuff under the name of Hank Wilson. I was lucky enough to see him in concert back in the late 70s when he opened for The Allman Brothers. Russell played and sang for more than an hour, then the Allmans came out and told the audience "We're going to play everything we know". They began about 8:30 pm and finished just before 1:00 am, with just two short breaks. It was one helluva night. Russell joined them for several songs and the encore. I missed work the next day.

I've felt poorly most of today. I'll be up and runnin' come the morn.

I dreamed last night, a night filled with restlessness. This is how I recall my dream.

On an island beach that stretches from horizon to horizon, two people walking alone approach each other. Both have their eyes toward the sand and surf at their feet until just before meeting. Looking up, the man smiles to the woman and the woman returns in kind. They pass, with barely their shoulders touching, and continue each on their on paths for a few paces. Both stop and turn face-to-face for a moment, and again approach each other. With not a word, the heretofore strangers join hands and walk toward the rising moon.

Any latter day Joseph want to take a stab at this one?

New Me?

I've decided to try to change my evil ways. No longer will I rant about anything religious on this blog. I will strive to be a kindler, gentler blogster. I like blogster, which isn't a real word, better than blogger.

In the spirit of my new found good will toward all, I've deleted the disparaging religious references made by me on this blog over the past few days.

I'm sure at least one or two of you will think I'm just shoveling the same old ....! But tsk, tsk not, my friends. As sure as Wayne is my middle name, things have changed. From here out, if I ruffle any feathers on this blog, it will be unintentional, and I hope you will kick my backside if I backslide.

One thing though, in my short college career, my major was communications, the art of making people believe what you want them to believe. Fear not, my friends, for if I consider you a friend, I will not knowingly mislead you. I promise!

Got my shot today. Didn't hurt.

Not much happening today, except traffic was/is terrible. I don't know how such an insignificant rat hole like Johnson City can have so many cars on the street at the same time. The worse part of it is, the city traffic engineer is pathetic at his job. He couldn't time a turtle race, let alone a traffic light.

Dog Days begin tomorrow. It is a time of the hottest and most humid days of summer. Just to make it a little more bearable, I've included this photo to remind you of what is next. Me, I'll take the Dog Days!

content

If I controlled time, here are some of the things I would like to do:

* Spend an evening with Ernest Hemingway
* Spend a day with Ansel Adams
* Spend a day on a photo safari with Edward Weston
* Spend a few hours with Edgar Allen Poe
* Spend an evening with O. Henry
* Spend a few hours with Eleanor Roosevelt
* Spend a day with Auguste Renoir
* Spend a few hours with Mary Wollstonecraft
* Spend a day with Mark Twain

Most of all, spend time with my friends, old and new.

Happy 43rd Wedding Anniversary to Carolyn.

Just back from doctor. Got my shot. Keegan spent the night with us. That's all the news fit to print.

Resting a bit today. Too much walking last evening has my knee hurting and my foot swollen. Went back to the 'Chucky yesterday. Got a late start and didn't get any photos 'til almost dusk. The ones I got were, for the most part though, acceptable.

I've a doctor's appointment tomorrow, if I don't conveniently forget.

Out to get some photos yesterday. Had ISO on my camera set wrong, so got few acceptable results. In fact, only one photo with some sky in it turned out at all. Well, I'll just have to do them again, because one of them has something I dearly love to shoot; a rusty and very old piece of machinery. Found it on Cripple Creek Road in Carter County.

Now we've seen four juvenile raccoons instead of the three I mentioned earlier. The squirrel population is decreasing as the 'coon population increases. Must be some kind of connection.

The waterfall over the dam is or was just past Milligan College. Photograph was made about 1983. I took a chance in ruining my best slr camera by wading into the torrent, but this shot was worth it. My friend Steve Hill was holding on to a piece of 12 gauge Romex electric cable attached to my belt, just in case. We both had a beer or two in us and likely would've drowned if we went in.

We now have four raccoons and one less squirrel. The critter that was stealing bird food had some little ones to feed. Soon as the babes got old enough to move them, mama raccoon evicted a squirrel from its nest—which is located about 40' up a tulip poplar—and moved her family in. To add injury to insult, she killed and ate the squirrel.

................................................

When all the baby Robins died and the adults abandoned the nest, Carolyn removed it from the speaker. If she had left it alone, all would have been fine, because the birds would have to look somewhere else for a nest site. Instead, they rebuilt the nest on the same speaker, and have started hatching eggs. I hope this brood does better than the last, but with the heat against the porch roof, it is in doubt.

Catching Up

Carolyn finally got her new stove a couple weeks ago. So far, she's managed one meal on it.
She's mad at me for posting her photo on Flickr.
Our Culligan water system went down and we were without water pressure for a while.
I'm waiting on delivery of a new polarizing filter for the cameras. Also a new tripod. I have a very good one from the old days, but it is made of steel tubing and is quite heavy.
Gotta go! Just had a brainstorm.

Rain

Face
Originally uploaded by annony_mouse

It's raining and I'm scanning. I've still got hundreds of b&w negatives to go through, plus a bunch of color prints and slides.

The handsome fellow pictured was caught looking at me in a shaving mirror. I think we need to see more of him, but he prefers to lurk in the shadows, coming out to make mischief and then blaming me.

A certain Meanie has caused me to get hooked on this Flickr thing, and I don't have time to work on my stories. As long as I'm busy...

Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to all Dads.

My dad and I were never close, and there were times when we couldn't stand the sight of each other. But when crunch time came, he was always the first to show support.

I never went without a meal, I never lacked decent shoes or clothes, I never lacked for the stuff he would buy me that I didn't deserve.

Wish you were here, John.

I am tired. Chasing barns all day.

Y'all have a good night.

Shot Day...

...but not a day shot. I carried my old HP camera with me today, and on the way home, I took a few photos near a RR underpass. Maybe something worth looking at; maybe not.

Looks like it will rain again. Even so, I'll try to get a photo or two.

Just a Thought

Not much going down today. Raining again. Supposed to be nice Sat. and Sun., so it's off the the Roan to see if the rhododendrons are blooming. The festival is the next weekend, and I don't want in it.

Meanie, those are Canada Geese, in case you haven't been back to the photo.

Just got back from Watauga Flats where I was looking for something to photograph. Used to be prime for the kind of stuff I like to shoot. Still a few places left, but you gotta be able to walk to get at them. But never fear, get them I will. Drove out King Springs Rd. to try for a pic of a semi-mobile fireworks stand that I spied a few weeks ago. Thought about stopping by to see Alice, but remembered she would be in church.

I'm ready for another Flickr birthday bash, as long as it isn't mine. The one over the weekend was a hoot.

Going to get my foot propped up as it is swelling.

For Alice

Today has been spent scanning old prints and waiting for Meanie to get some photos posted with her new Canon SLR. I don't think she will disappoint us when she has everything in order.

I was about to try to catch a few shots myself, but it has begun to rain, and I fear my sweetness will melt away.

Alice, if you've looked on my Flickr in the last day or so, a gentleman thinks that I ought to do a portrait of "Nessa. From the photo he saw, me apparently didn't think you and I were worthy. I always thought we were two of the "beautiful people".

Tired

Drove to the top of Buffalo Mt. on Dry Creek. First time in 15 or more years I've been up there. Such a disappointment. Grown up with trees so much that there was no view, except of trees. Who would ever have thought that there would be trees on a mountain? Managed to get some shots on the way back down, but some of them were with the old Nikon, so I'll have to wait 'til they're processed.

Happy Birthday, Meanie

I LOVE SUNDAYS!

I wonder if I've offended...? Again?

Now I'm really mad! In the middle of a fight with Best Buy. We bought a stove from them three weeks ago, and it was finally delivered yesterday. Thats just the beginning of this sad tale.

Hell, I don't want to talk about it!

I don't want to talk about it!

Engraved on a headstone:

As you are once was I
As I am soon will you be
So prepare to follow me

Scrawled below that by a local philosopher:

To follow you I can't be content
Cause I don't know which way you went

Resting a little today, hoping some of the swelling will leave my feet and ankles.

Finished the time sheets and paid some bills.

Downloaded a trial copy of Photoshop Elements. I have a reasonably fast computer, but that software is pathetically slow to render anything. I tried Paintshop Pro 11 last week, and it is also snaily. I'm going to stick with my old reliable and fast Paintshop Pro 8, and I like to use The Gimp some, because I use Linux more and more these days. The Gimp has versions for about everything. Also, Photoshop plugins work well with both of the later.

Posting some of my manipulated creations to Flickr. No one will ever know.

Fred Gregory. September 19, 1946—June 4, 1980.

Seems like yesterday I'd see you getting out of that big Ford, your shirt unbuttoned, sweating as if you had been working. Cowboy boots and a black cowboy hat. Yeah, you were one bad Texan. Friday nights playing deuces-wild poker with everybody knowing that you were cheating but not being able to catch you. Laying out of work on Thursdays. Being a dumb-ass and breaking your arm while riding the Odyssey. Camping at the lake. Getting stranded on Rich Mountain on a cold November night. Those god-awful farts that only you knew the recipe to generate. Your worst vulnerability was being too good to people. That great summer on the houseboat. Your complete inability to catch a fish. The time or two that we got drunk. We really miss you. Being around you changed our lives in many ways, and when you left us, we were never the same.

Thanks for the memories, Bro. We loved you then and we love you now.

I would have posted a picture of us together, but it would have embarrassed both of us. Orange and white Texas Instruments softball uniforms. Worse yet, it was Texas burnt orange. Humiliating.

The Tramp and the Bagel

I'm all alone... Carolyn is working today. It's just after noon, and I'm having plain bagels with butter and homemade apple butter piled on thick.

I'll tell you how backward we were (are) in this neck of the nowheres. I was born in 1944, graduated high school in 1963—they insisted I stay and make up for failing algebra three times—finished a four year apprenticeship as heavy-construction electrician, and hadn't even heard the word bagel until 1970 when I went on the road to Pittsburgh PA as a tramp electrician. When I saw my first one, I thought it was an over-sized donut. Worst yet, I never ate one 'til the 1980s. Almost the same with pizza and subs! Never saw either one before 1963. Folks, this ain't one of my tales. We were just plain ignorant.

Next time, and if I think of it, I'll tell you what a tramp electrician is and about my adventures as being one.
..........................................................

For Meanie; Have you remembered to breathe?

Got my shot. I guess I've felt better today than I have in a long time. I always feel better when people aren't fussing at me. Now if I could just sleep at night. "Gloom, despair, and agony on me; deep dark depression and excessive misery." Bet you think I've been watching Hee Haw reruns.

All the baby birds died. Too much heat where the nest was built. Tried to warn them, but you can't tell a robin anything. Hardheaded.

The young raccoon is getting to be a problem by being aggressive. I'll probably have to phone the animal control people, and while they're at it, they may as well try to catch the foxes. When I was growing up in the country, never once did I see a 'coon in the wild. Now that I'm in the burbs, I'm lousy with them.

I want to again thank everyone that has commented on my Flickr photos. And I appreciate C. for turning me onto the mosaic maker. Be assured, I'll try harder to be a better photographer.

Meanie...? There's a full moon!

Hazy-cloudy today, and I couldn't waste the opportunity of good light. Communed with Nature again, and got photos of a wild onion seed-pod and some still-red blackberries, along with a few barn shots and a church steeple.
.......................................................
For Meanie-
I'm thinking about you. Things will work out. Real friends forgive and forget, so take a deep breath and think happy thoughts.

You and I

If you and I were the only two people left in the world, what would we say to each other?

Today has seemed like Monday. I've an emotional hangover from the past few days, and poison ivy from adventures in the bush.

For Meanie, I hope you get over your blues soon.
......................................................................................

Live as if you were to die tomorrow.
Learn as if you were to live forever.
Mohandas Gandhi

We drove up to Wilbur and Watauga dams today. Air temp was 7 or 8 degrees cooler in the hills. Crossed the Appalachian Trail, which made me want to park and start hiking. Crap, I can't even walk!

Did get a few pics and eyed some places where I want to return for some more shots.

Drove as deep into the mountains as I could, then walked a few more steps—with the assistance of my cane—until I was too tired to continue. I was able to get a few photos there, and from three more sites on the way back.

The location is on Clark's Creek, which is a fire access road that runs up a valley between two mountain spurs. The powers allow camping along the stream. Haven't camped here since July 2001, and after the flash flood later that year washed out several bridges and some of the roadway, the area was closed for repairs 'til last year.

We first camped here in the mid-seventies, and did so several times each year for several summers. We took our four wheel drive trucks to the tops of the mountains and enjoyed the balds and vistas. Three of us even managed to get stuck atop Rich Mountain on a cold night in November 1978.

Then the nasties took over. They were probably the most uncivilized pack of clap-trap jerks I've ever had the pleasure of not knowing.

In the mid-eighties, the forestry people placed some toilet facilities and other amenities for campers. It didn't take but a few months until they all were completely trashed.

They took their four-wheelers to the top of the ridges and tore hell out of the balds. It didn't take long for the Forest Service to block the roads to the summits.

By the mid-nineties, things were getting back to normal, and people were returning to camp, wade the streams, and hike to the waterfalls, although access to the hill tops was then and is still denied by large boulders placed in strategic locations. Now, on holiday weekends such as this, one has to squat on a camp site by Thursday evening, because by Friday evening, all are taken.

My little jaunt did me some good, although temporarily. As soon as I turned into the driveway of the hateful house in which I am forced to live—at least temporarily—the depression returned worse than ever.

I managed to scrape the hide off a couple of potatoes and slice and fry them for my only meal yesterday. Today, I'm having a can of cold October beans and a slice of stale bread. Can't stand long enough to do much more than operate a can opener.

Tomorrow is another Sunday, and I hate Sundays.

À Tout Le Monde

Only one baby robin left, but it seems to be eating enough for two.

The knee has deteriorated to the point where I can barley walk. I desperately need to get the surgery, but family things are preventing it. I had an appointment with the surgeon for the preliminaries, but today I had to cancel. It looks like one's closest family could respect one's needs, but selfishness makes more sense to some.

My left foot is swollen to at least twice the normal size. My left knee has already been replaced, and all the swelling in that foot comes from physical inactivity. The right foot swells, but not near the point that the left one does.

The worst part, the fluid that fills the flesh in my feet has now migrated to my chest. I am having breathing problems and there is fluid around my heart, in other words, dropsy, or as it is better known, congestive heart failure.

Now there is a big, black piss ant crawling on my leg, aggravating me. I ain't got chance...

À Tout Le Monde

Glenwood Union Church

This is the first church that I attended. My mom brought me here when I was little and it is located on the road where I grew up, about a quarter-mile from the house I was born in. I remember going to Vacation Bible School here, and it used to be shaded by two large red maple trees, but they did away with them so more cars could be parked. Only a very few people worship here now, due to no one being able to get along.

The land for the church and the adjoining cemetery was deeded to the community in about 1910-1911. It was to be used for-and-by the community only. If it ceased to be used by the community, it was to revert to the folks that ceded it.

The people of the community allowed a Johnson City preacher and his small flock to start services here in the 1970s, and many of the locals began attending. Wasn't long before the locals were put on notice that the church was now the property of the preacher and his wife. They had become de facto squatters. These foreigners even took over the cemetery and ruled on who could and who could not be interred here. They decided it would be used for the people from Johnson City only.

The locals fought back, and at least got the cemetery away from the citified children of God. The citizens are allowing the preacher's family and his three or four followers to keep the church open, as long as they take care of maintenance on the cemetery. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't.

I've helped carry the bodies of several of my family members beneath the old bell. That was back when families brought their loved ones home for a wake and on to the church for funeral service and the ensuing burial. I carried my grandmother—the woman that was a second mother to me—through the old door.

She, my granddad, my dad, and my mom are buried in the cemetery, along with many more members of the extended family.

The part that is now attached to the front of the church house wasn't there until 1970s. It houses the restrooms. The exterior is in disrepair.The tip of the steeple has gone missing, and someone replaced it with a wooden one. The siding nearest the ground is rotting away. The guttering has fallen away, and much of the soffit and fascia has deteriorated.

I have no idea what is to become of the building, or even the cemetery when my generation has passed. I will not be buried here, as I wish to be cremated and my ashes dumped into a rotting stump on the forested western-facing side of one of my mountains, overlookng the hills and valleys below.

Last Evening

For supper last evening, I had chunky peanut butter on Graham crackers. Later, I trimmed my nose hair.

For Meany

Take care of yourself.

It's been just over an hour since daybreak. I've been reading blogs and looking for new photo posts by my Flickr friends.

Last evening was spent helping my cousin get his new dsl connected. He is now a Flickr member and I look forward to seeing his photos. He lives in Jonesborough, so I naturally had to drive downtown to get a few pictures. The place is a photographer's paradise—if he/she can get around well.

Most of the pics were unusable because a sky filter I had just put on the camera was slightly fogged. I don't know why it happened. I didn't have the A/C on in the truck, so it couldn't have been that (even though the temp was in the 80s, I had my windows down so I could hear the chicks whistle and holler "woo-woo, handsome" as I cruised by). It wasn't visible through the viewfinder, but it sure messed up some photos. Some though were salvageable with software.

Today is going to be another wonderful day, although I wish it would rain. I can take photos all day long when it's cloudy outdoors because of the even light. That's where B&W really prevails.

One of our babies died. Carolyn found it lying beneath the nest yesterday afternoon.

Alive!

What a beautiful day!

Birds are singing
Sun is bright
In the moment
Life is right

Baby robins rule the porch. Nature is a good thing... it is the great equalizer.
Even when life is bluest, solace may be found there.
Everything will be all right.
---------------------------------------------

About Paris

I found a copy of an old love letter that I sent someone special long, long ago. In those days, I typed a copy of all my correspondences—there wasn't that much—so I would someday know what my life was like back when...

Dearest Tess,

I was overjoyed when I received your reply, because I didn't know if I was sending my letter to the correct address or even the right Tess. Thank God that you got it.

Yes Tess, I remember oh so well when and how we met. It was late spring of '63 in Paris and near the water. I was trying to entice a local painter to part with one of his masterpieces at less than his value. He spoke little English—so he claimed—and I was, and still am, completely ignorant of that beautiful French dialect.

You overheard my pleas and came to my rescue. You spoke enough of the language to get by, and you soon had the painting for me at the price I wanted to pay. Remember we found out later that day that the painter was born and raised in America but had been living in Paris for many years? The scoundrel.

Darling Tess, you were finishing graduate work and due to leave for your home in London the next day. I was a tourist trying to mend a broken heart and failing badly. For a special day, you became my princess, my savior..., the woman I loved.

We had lunch at a sidewalk cafe, and then visited some small museums that you knew about.

We parted ways, promising to meet at the same spot later on. As usual, I got lost and you were about to write me off as another weired American. But, things got better.

Remember the restaurant that was about to close for the evening, and you sweet-talking the chef into charing us a steak. That's when you introduced me to Merlot, and ever since that night, I've loved its soft sweetness, because it continues to remind me of the flavor of you.

We walked along the evening riverfront for hours, holding hands like a couple of kids, each of us beginning to fall in love, I think. It was around midnight when the rain started, but it didn't bother us. We sat to rest on a park bench, and we kissed for the first time, and then continuously, the strengthing rain failing to cool our passion. Then we made love in that same rain and on that same bench, two souls oblivious of the world.

Unfortunately, the world wasn't oblivious to our lovemaking. I'll never forget the gendarme that must have waited politely in the downpour until we were sated and then politely shooed us away with a "stern" warning. I truly believe that only the French know what love is.

You spent the night at my hotel, and when I awakened next day, you were gone, which I think we both knew you would be since first we touched.

You left a note on an envelope, and inside I found a cutting of your beautiful auburn hair.

It's taken me nearly ten years to find you, and now I don't know what to say to you. You are married and living in Chicago, and I am still love's long loser. Even here in Amsterdam where love comes easily, I am lonely, for only you can I love.

Like that star-crossed couple in the movies, we'll always have Paris.

My heart is forever yours,
......................................................................................................................................

Carolyn's uncle Haskel and his wife from Bristol came down to visit. He is 89 and Pauline is 92. Pauline's son, Butch, brought them, after getting lost only once. Haskel's body is drawn pretty badly, but Pauline is just as spry as ever. They get around better than Carolyn and I, actually.

Haskel, a distant cousin, and Carolyn are the only ones left in their family of the "older" generation. Tears were shed when it came time to say their goodbyes, as they never know if they will ever see one another again.

I'm just now getting the times sheets done.

Damn, I love Mondays. Love is a powerful word, isn't it?

Another week has slipped by without much ado. Carolyn is working today, probably 12 hours at the least.

I'm a lonely little boy... I wish someone would come over and play.

I suppose church people are churching, sinners are sinning, and the rest of us are doing our thing. My thing today is finally finishing time sheets, preparing this months invoices, and breaking beans.

Carolyn starts work on a new account tomorrow night. This is only the second such this year, so far. It's not been a great year for her, as she has lost three accounts, two of which were fairly large. A large multi-national company has decided to be aggressive in this market, and they are underbidding her big time. Generally, after about six months, these ex-customers call Carolyn and want to know if she is interested in rebidding the job, because they aren't satisfied with work being performed, or with the customer service from their new vendor. She usually tells them to add ten percent to her last bid. Some do and some wont. She doesn't advertise her business much these days, because she intends to retire in another year. We'll sell our house, rent something, and sit and look at one another all day.

Damn, I hate Sundays.
-----------------------------

I spent a year in that town, one Sunday.
-George Burns

...You're Just Another Brick In The Wall

The Dogs of War

The dogs of war don't negotiate
The dogs of war won't capitulate,
They will take and you will give,
And you must die so that they may live
You can knock at any door,
But wherever you go, you know they've been there before
Well winners can lose and things can get strained
But whatever you change, you know the dogs remain.

Titles and lyrics copyright© 1979 by Pink Floyd, Roger Waters, et al

Blackberry Winter

And Shot Day

Blackberry briars are in full bloom, so a cool spell isn't unexpected. However, I have never known it to be this cold this late in May. They are saying we may have scattered frost before morning. We are bringing the hanging baskets and potted plants inside for tonight.

Bought a new gas stove today. I hate to waste money on fripperies such as that. It could be better spent on computer and camera equipment. I saw a lovely new tripod at Best Buy...

Stopped at the old watering hole on the way home for a cheeseburger and beer. Some meanie posted a beautifully compelling photo of a cheeseburger on her blog a few days back, and I had to have one. Thanks meanie, as I pigged out and am now nauseous.

Chapel Window

Chapel Window
Originally uploaded by annony_mouse.

The 9/11 Blues

Last evening I went out to take a few photos. It was raining, and I drove the seven miles to the Nolichucky River to see what was interesting.

I stopped along the way at the old Cherokee Baptist Church in an attempt to get a shot or two, then continued on to the river, seeking some of the places where long ago there were some good views. All the places where one could park were blocked by large boulders, so I headed back toward home.

Almost there when the rain stopped and the sun appeared, so I decided to go on over to the VA campus because on an earlier trip there, I saw what I thought would be a great photo opportunity. The sun would have to be low in the west for the shot I wanted.

When I got to my chosen area, I had to wait a few minutes for the light to be perfect. I got out of the Escape and walked to the spot that figured would be just right. I wasted a few clicks on some tree rats that were playing on the lawn across the street from the chapel, and a few more shots on the building beside my objective.

Suddenly, the sun came screaming through the west-side windows of the church, illuminating the east windows from inside. I was ready to "capture the moment".

I got one shot when a campus police officer drove up near me and asked if I had a permit to take photos on VA property. I told him no, and that I didn't know I needed one.

He told me to put the camera away and not take any more photos there without written permission. I complied with his order. He didn't say for me to leave the grounds, but he followed me until I did so.

Just outside the gates, a city police cruiser came racing up behind me almost to my bumper. I thought that it was going to be some hard time in Gitmo for me.

The patrol car backed off, but continued to follow me all the way home. The cruiser stopped in front of my house and waited until I got out of my vehicle before leaving. Damn, I felt important.
........................................................................................

Well, if you know me at all, you realize that I have a rant coming about all of this, don't you?

Stay tuned!

......................................................................................

The biggest problem with trying to live anonymously is people not knowing how really important I am. -KenA

Today

"Was you ever bit by a dead bee?"
Originally uploaded by annony_mouse.

Not much happening today. Have to help Carolyn with the employee time sheets.

It's supposed to be raining, but the sun has shown its lovely face. Hope it does at least get cloudy this afternoon when I go for a round of photo taking. Some rain wouldn't hurt either, as I need a bath.

Papa robin is on the nest this morning. Mom is over at the fence eating a worm and catching up on some gossip.

Man, I gotta get a life!

A Man of God

I read that the Reverend Jerry Falwell died yesterday. My condolences go to his family.

That being said, my opinion of him is not good. I considered him to be an opportunist and a man of not so high morality.

His forte was the massive spreading of fear, which is not unlike the majority of his kind. They use any type of media available to get "the" message to the most people. Nothing wrong with that, per se. Their sin is one of sowing fear and doubt to confuse the minds of those whom are most vulnerable. The Reverend Falwell was a Master of mass persuasion.

He started on his path as super-evangelical by catering to the fear mongers of the nineteen-sixties. He proclaimed to side with segregationists, gay bashers, anti-unionists, anti-semantics, and anti-anything that could endear him to God-fearing southerners and the money that they were willing to pay him to propound their views.

And it worked so very well. Like the Reverend Billy Graham, he became affluent with the gold of his believers, and monetary wealth has a religious-like influence all its own. It can and does buy the ears and votes of politicians, capitalists, and other anti-intellectuals. His political muscle, which was made massive by daily injections of the fear and intolerance steroids, was flexed mightily when he facilitated the election of three US presidents.

He chided the Bakkers for living abundantly. That is hypocritical in that he also lived that life of plenty. The difference? Falwell didn't flaunt it as did Jim and Tammy Faye. Falwell was just too righteous to be a man of great wealth, or so it seemed.

Falwell is one of the most important reasons that I turned against organized religion. Apparently, most Americans seem to need a religion in their lives and I have no problem with that. I believe that education and diligence can overcome anything, even the very worst influences such as the Reverend Falwell and his kind. All it takes is time, and time is all we had when we were born.

I could have a marvelous rant over what's depicted in this photograph, but I won't... for now!

----------------------------------

I'll help Carolyn prepare a bid for a large apartment complex today. Then it's off to look at another possible job.

Our oven is broken, and I want a homemade biscuit and a baked tater.

It's almost impossible to find a gas range in this backwater town. Plenty of electric, though. "Check online and we'll order it for you", they say. If I'm going to spend that kind of money, I want to see what I'm buying. So, we are at a standstill.

I have no plans for picture taking today, but, who knows?

********************************************

Some marvelous short stories can be found here: http://lordbubbha.blogspot.com/

I helped Carolyn work on a couple of bids today. Hope that she is successful on at least one of them.

I'm planning to go out for some picture taking this evening. A place or two—and old barn and the dog-walker's impoundment at the local park—caught my eye when we were out Saturday last. I wanted to shoot some at the lake, as there once was some easy-to-get-to spots where the sunset could be really appreciated. Now there are houses and condos everywhere. I reckon I'll have to stick to my mountains for natural beauty, either that or look at myself in the mirror.

We are thinking of maybe taking a train excursion through the Hiwassee River Gorge. It will be in mid-June if Carolyn doesn't have to work that weekend. The drawback is a bus trip to Etowah, which is near to Chattanooga, and back to JC after the train ride.

Happy Mother's Day Dot. I Miss You.

Happy Mom's Day to my bride of nearly forty-three years.
You're still my punkin.
++++++++++++++++++++++++

Happy Mother's Day to Alice and Robin. You are very special to me.

--------------------------------------

Carolyn cleaned the office carpet yesterday. Mostly coffee spills.

Later, we went for a drive through the countryside, out by Boone Lake and then into old town for a banana split. Back home for burgers on the grill along with fried potatoes and onions. Also, she served sliced green peppers and cucumbers on the side. A cold Miller—vintage last month—topped-off everything.

Seeing that none of her kids are going to take her out for a meal, Carolyn is planning garden salad, salmon cakes, and mashed potatoes and peas for supper. Later, we plan to watch Ben Stiller's Night at the Museum and maybe Monty Python and the Holy Grail. We've seen the latter a couple of times, but it's one of those "watch me again" type movies.

If the people of France had sense of humor as do the British, this old world would be so much the better. However, the French are immersed in self perpetuating national paranoia and are infected with elitism which, I fear, will lead to eventual disaster.

Evening Last

I went into the old town last evening with the intention of doing some through-the-window photos, but they were having "music on the square" where all the quaint shops are located. I ended shooting some pics around the Presbyterian church area.

I was able to get a picture of an old house that I previously captured on a night assignment in the early eighties. The building hasn't changed as much as I have.

Being a National Historic District, the town is clean and well kept. Jonesborough is the home of the International Storytelling Center, which hosts the national Storytelling Festival in October of each year, and Jonesborough Days is held on Independence Day weekend.

Annually, the town draws thousands of tourists from around the world to experience some of the lifestyles of the "over-mountain" folk of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Today

I got nothing to do today, and I intend spending the entire day doing it.

If anyone is interested, here is the address of my other blog where I put some of my stories.
http://lordbubbha.blogspot.com/

Rant

I feel a rant coming on. I've not produced a good one in a while.

When I get it all together, you can cover your eyes and ears if you want.

I'm back, and here it is!

This is the kind of mail that I get much too often. I begins: Dear Senior Citizen, we are happy to make you this generous offer, so act today and take advantage of the low rates before your next birthday. Blah, blah!

I expect to get junk mail, just like anyone else. But calling me a Senior Citizen is when too much becomes enough.

I ain't no Senior Citizen. Damn, that phrase sounds so Orwellian. You can call me just about anything you wish, and no matter what it is, I can more than likely answer to it. I am an old goat, a geezer, gramps, an old man, an old fart, and a lot of other good things that relate to aging. Even being called elderly is better than the misnomer of Senior Citizen. I ain't no adman's Senior darn Citizen. For the sake of Pete, I'm not too awfully proud of being an American citizen these days.

You son's-of-bitches on Madison Avenue ought to get a semblance of a life and stay away from mine. Don't condescend me. It's difficult enough facing the indignity of old age, the wear that my body has endured and the uncertainties of what future I have.

Don't lump me into a wad just to market to me. Treat me with respect.

And never, never tell me that I am in my Golden Years. You money grubbing mothers are in the Golden Years, at least for the gold that you can swindle from me and people like me.

I'm not physically able to fight with with these jerks, but if I happen to meet one, and he says anything about the aforementioned sins, I will explain to him his genealogy with cuss words he never imagined existed.
---------------------------------------------

On to things more important.

Carolyn planted snapdragons today, and tomorrow she'll spread mulch. She enjoys it, and it keeps me out of her hair.

Oh, yes. I got my shot today.

Nice

Someone has been nice to me today.
Thank you so much.

Moving

I am moving the few stories, poems, and etc. that I've written and any new ones to a new blog.

If anyone desires the address, let me know.

I Return to Aloneness

Today, I try to begin anew. Some things from my recent past have been haunting me, but I hope that I've dealt with them in a wise and caring way.

True, it shall be hard, but an old man has faced and dealt with many difficulties. From some I have gained, and from others I have lost. What I've lost from this one will, I hope, teach me to try to do better from here on. What would we be if we didn't learn from our mistakes?

To the one that I hurt: I am sorry, but I expect no forgiveness, and I'll live with that. We are whom we are.

Sigh...

Gonna Do It

Got to get some blood work done today. Just part of starting to commence to prepare to begin to get ready for the big occasion. I'm not looking forward to having it all done, but the results will make me decide whether I want to continue to live or not give a damn. At the present state, it is fifty-fifty. As has been said so many times, we all have to play the hand that we're dealt in life, but occasionally we're able to slip in a wild card, a joker, as it be. But the thing with wild cards, there are only so many in the deck, and I don't know if I've used my allotment.

Hell, I'm depressing myself. Gotta think positive; be a brave soldier.
-------------------------------------------
Something more positive.

I'm thinking of trying to get a few "twilight" photos this week with the new Canon.

I've taken my old Nikons out of the trunk where they've been for the past twenty years. They seem to be working well. The EM had to have a battery to get anything going. The FE shutter and mirror operate as they are supposed to on bulb and M90 settings, so it will probably be fine when I stick a new battery inside.
-------------------------------------------

Just back from the blood work thing. The sky is so blue and the mountains are clear of the usual haze.

Perfect Day!

Waiting For Your Message

I've decided that I want to get married again. You know; have two wives. A pigamist. Pigamist means hog-wild in love with two or more ladies. I sincerely believe that my heart has room enough to make two women happily miserable.

In my mind's eye, I can see that while one works, the other could be tending to my needs and vice versa. And when they both aren't working or fighting over me, what a good time could be had by all. Gosh, I don't think that—even at my age—I've sexually peaked. There's a lot of lovin' in me that's yet to be tapped. Of course I realize that I'm going to begin slowly losing my sex drive sometime in the next ten-to-twenty years. But what a state of euphoria and happiness I can bestow until it occurs.

Do you, young lady, want to be my new wife? I'll be wanting someone mature, say 40 years old on up to my age. One other thing; you gotta be hot. Sizzlin', that is. Of course, you'll have to start out as mate number two, but I'll be an equal opportunity husband. You, with diligence, can work your way up, so to speak.

I've not spoken with Carolyn about it yet, but I'm sure she will be pleased and supportive.

Nah; probably won't work. Having a couple of gals constantly fighting over me doesn't sound like a loving or readily workable type of relationship. We'd probably lose our respect for one another in no time. And I insist on being respected.

Still though, if you'd like to let me know what you think, or if you're interested in maybe a test run, leave a comment or email me.

Signed,
Anxious

Sounds conceited? Well, Ive a lot to be conceited about, thank you.

Went for a drive to Hunter's market on 107 and continued on through Dry Creek. The mountains on each side were, as always, breathtaking. The litter and junk cars along the creek were also breathtaking. So sad.

Back to town for a pizza and Pepsi. Consuming such, along with thinking about the junk cars and litter, has given me a bit of nausea.

Took one photo from in front of Greg's Pizza parlor, and posted it on Flickr. Dry Creek lies behind the background mountain in the pic.

I don't have any wise quotes for today. Actually, I've been feeling pretty dumb lately.

Friday

Glad to hear that Alice's sister is mending.

I felt well enough to get my shot and ease over to the VA to take a few photos.

When the light gets right, which is about now, I'll go back out and shoot a few more pics.

Everything else is the same, except for what has changed. That don't make any sense to me either, but...

Sickly today...

Run, Run, Run

I forgot to buy tags for the truck. They expired yesterday, so I've spent the morning waiting to get renewed.

A pair of robins are nesting atop one of my stereo speakers on the back porch. We've moved ourselves to the front porch until they get done with their family thing.

Still trying to get used to new camera. Too damned many buttons and readouts. Why can't they take an old film-type SLR body and change it over to a digital format? Because it would be cheap and easy! No money there.

I've spent nearly one-third of my life in one type of school or another. I feel that I am reasonably educated, if not too smart. But I reckon I'll have to spend some more time getting someone to teach me the intricate details of modern photography. It used to be that the photograph was the important part of the medium. Not any more. It is knowing which button(s) to push and which knob to turn.

The only good thing that I can see about the process is seeing the results almost immediately. Of course, Mr. Polaroid had that figured out nearly sixty years ago.