In a Word, Too

The Bee's Knees Are Bent

He didn't move all affternoon. He clung to the STEAZ TEA can as if his life depended on it. He was the only one in sight. The day was too cool for a bee to be about. What happened? Did it get mixed signals? Was he a newbie, anxious to please? Was he hungry?

Today I heard Dr. Oz compare hibernating bears to humans. He was telling Americans that it's okay to use up some of our stored fat between meals. Said bears do it all the time and they son't suffer any ill effects. My thought was, well, maybe humans need more stored energy for thinking, where bears live by instinct. Instinct is just another word for the will of God. Woman has the gift of free will. Thinking requires energy. I know this from experience. When I work hard and late, I need food breaks. If I don't eat my body does not perform well. 

Oh, and while I'm on the topic, I think eating food is much bettr than drinking it. Our digestive systems are designed for grinding, chewing, salivating, and simply digesting the foods we eat. People who go on liquid diets pay for deleting solids. Patients recovering from surgery are given a liquid diet. They progress to a soft diet and on to a regular diet. Try surviving on liquids and leap to solids, then tell me what happens. Now, where was I? Oh. The bee's knees are hardly bent, huh? Poor thing was probably cold. Katy had another coolish day today, and the weather forecasters predict a cold front overnight.

 

If he's still there tomorrow I'll just have to bring him inside to warm up.

April Showers Bring April Flowers

Along with other things.

Life 102.2

The documentary, "River of No Return," is one that I'm glad I didn't miss. I saw the last thirty minutes or so, but in that small window of viewing time I wasn't spared a scene of carnage that left death and life in its wake. I suppose I'm still a little immature or choose to be blind to the dark sides of life. I still hope for the best. I hoped the little deer would outsmsart the wolves. Then the narrator's words sank in. The deer's death meant that the pack would live. Instead of them being brutal murderers of cute innocent creatures, I was forced to see them as beautiful creatures that did what nature programmed them to do. They have managed to survive for thousands of years without my intervention. Now, they are threatened because of humans like me. No. Unlike me, in many ways. But . . .

I still choose to . . . Okay. Now there's footage of the meteor that struck Russia. I have to watch this, but I cannot help but wonder why. NOVA is something else. Man is so smart yet he is also so not so smart at times. People are curious. Good for those of us who are. So why did the meteor strike Russia? It's not their first time being a target. Would you have believed it if you hadn't seen it? Thank God for technology, right? You've seen the movie "Melancholia," right? Uh huh. You're not buying into the boogey man scare tactics, are you? We ain't no Chicken Littles, are we? 

I choose to try to enjoy life as it's been offered. I'll take the bitter with the sweet. I don't have a choice, but I can choose how I take. I'll work on myself, and hone my skills. I'll continue to be a co-creator. I will never lose my appreciation for the life around me. I will paint until I caint.

I will photograph beauty every chance I get. Like I did here.  My neighbor lets me gather the flowers that fall from her lovely plant. She sees death. I see beauty in dying. Do you? My good neighbor doesn't get why I take pictures of "weeds" and such. I do, and that's what matters to me. I appreciate her green thumb. I don't like her less because she doesn't get me. It's okay. We can't all be me. So. A little hors d'oeurve plate makes an excellent palette. A new brush. A little imagination . . . And, voila! 

My Life As An L

I see good things even when I'm not looking. I liked the L the second I saw it. It stands on little legs called "BALCONY." I like floor plans. One of the first things I do when I get to the Sunday Times is search for the floor plans. I wish you could see the ones I've collected over the years. I'll use them soon, but I had to share this gem with you first. 

Now I regret not taking photos of each stage, but what can I do except wait until next time? For now, let's try this"

You'll need 4 x 6 index files with tabs from 7gypsies. Make more if you want. After all, more words begin with L than limner, right? I fell for 7gypsies products years ago. I still have my unopened bottle of walnut ink. I should use it some day, and I will, but only if I can buy a backup bottle. Moving on . . .

Trim away the bottom bit for a chubby L. Round the left edge with your Fiskars© tool. Do the same with the blue print copy too, if you you want. I use bright white paper or Epson Matte Presentation Paper for great crisp color prints.

Use paper cement to bind the two elements. Add a bunch of pretty capital Ls all over the place, embellish your way, and while it dries, attach to the front of a lovely blank notecard, give gratitude to architects and the NYT Magazine for offering unexpected means to creativity, and . . . 

Yea! Oh, yeah! To the mailbox! To the mailbox!

 

A Goodbye after the Last Hello

We always mean to visit. We really do mean to stop by the next time we're in town. Now I mean to say goodbye. The last time I saw her she was stooped, a little slower, but just as sharp and sure. She asked us to visit the next time we came home for our family reunion. We did. We all did.

The last time I saw her we talked about history, genealogy, and the old days, when she and Grandmother were young. She gave me a picture of Aunt Florine. My beautiful aunt was a young woman, single, hopeful, and smiling. I still wonder why Mrs. Pickle took the photo. No matter. She has gone on, taking my chance to discover the answer with her.

I did not know her as Thelma Jacqueline Cooper Pickle. She was always Jackie Pickle. She passed on January 30, and was buried this past Saturday, at the age of 93. My mother called to tell me just minutes ago. Goodbye Mrs. Pickle.

I Wouldn't Take Nothing

It's funny how those words mean so much to so many, yet they make a lie out of their belief. Shouldn't it be, "I wouldn't take anything?" Because if I wouldn't take nothing, I'd take something. Right? Then again, maybe they are right. I wouldn't take nothing for my journey, except everything that came with it until now. 

Today has been one of the best days of my life. So, I wouldn't take nothing for my journey either. It came preloaded. I've lived tentatively. No. I kind of walked through it, like walking through a storm, a hurricane, a tsunami, hail, snow, an inferno, an oasis, on a beach, through a magic forest, through being. Things happened and I reacted. Once or twice in long whiles I initiated actions that resulted in reactions. I've never really aggressively gone after anything. Not that I recall. Until today. Today I chased the sky, and the clouds, and the fire. The sky was on fire! 

I caught sight of the blaze when I stepped outside Barnes & Noble. It was even more beautiful and afire after my visit to Home Goods. It was so amazing by the time I was halfway home . . . Well, I had to whip into a vacant parking lot, dig out my iPad, and gave it a go. The view was ten--a thousand--ten thousand times more beautiful than this. So, no, I wouldn't take anything for my journey. And, it's been a trip.

A Look at Mother Nature

The most spectacular part of this photograph is the obvious. Why does this piece wither from the root out, instead of the from tip-to-root? The question begged to be answered only after I'd pored over the sere inches that caught my eye first. I will make better use of my macro lens the next time I take a look, but isn't Mother Nature worth the look?

Inside a 787

©erincade

Would you mind flying on this with perks? Boeing's Dreamliner. Wonder what they offer that would make me break my ban on flying? Check out the too-short video and decide if the 787 could win you over.

Angles, Composition & Such

Do you ever take a photograph just because you like it, then later discover why? Remember all those lessons learned in art and photography classes? Think you've forgotten them? Well, I am here to tell you that they are there, safe and sound, whether you are consciously aware of them or not. They guide you. They are forever on auto pilot. 

This is not the best or the worst photograph I have ever taken, yet I like it. The real images are perfect. They are better than anything a camera can capture and hold on to. I wish you could have seen the way the sunlight really bounced off, hugged, carressed, teased and beamed down on everything before me. Words like "converge" creep into my consciousness as I write. I want to tell you how it felt because . . . Well, maybe the photo does a decent job. See how three different things converged to create a frame; they converged to show off the little morning glory that still braves winter's low temperatures. 

I cannot help but like each season for its own reasons. I love winter. I don't bring my plants indoors when temperatures drop. What's left in their wake is absolutely beautiful, in its own way.

PTSDFBSA

What is PTSDFBSA? It's post traumatic stress disorder from being shot at, that's what. I cannot imagine having to live under such stress day in and day out. It's enough to drive a woman to drink. Or commit suicide. Or sneak across enough borders until I reached someplace safe. Lord, where would that be in this world? Why don't we have Peace in this world of ours? 

How can people who look so much alike, live alike, almost act alike, NOT live in Peace? They're cousins, for Christ's sake. They're like relatives who don't like each other because of an ancient feud. Like the Hatfields and McCoys. Can they hate each other so much they would all rather blow themselves off the face of the earth? They need a Dr. Phil. Hell! They make me nervous, and I live as far away from them as I can get. Oh, heck no. How many of them live here among us now? I can't tell one from another, so they could be getting ready to fight on American soil and . . . And, I would just be in the dark about who's the enemy. 

When I shope at the Phonecian Market I look at all the lovely people and I cannot help but wonder. How can they live among the same people here in America, yet hate each other so much in another world? They wear the same clothes here that they wear there, and go about unmolested. They are the same as Americans. Some are nice, some aren't. Some are beautiful, some aren't. They are short, tall, thin, fat, sexy, not sexy . . . They all eat and drink the same foods. They all drive the same cars. None of the ever make eye contact with me, but the employees do. They make small talk. They flirt. Okay, two have. Some are rude. I asked for couscous and the young woman pointed away from the Israeli couscous. She wouldn't even look at me. She wouldn't even give me directions. She simply pointed. But she certainly talked to "the other shoppers." Poor thing. I had to wonder how she could be so rude to someone she didn't even know.

"The rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night . . ." America fought their brothers and cousins too, so we should know better by now, right? You'd think we could all learn from history. I don't pretend to understand how Hamas believes that rockets are the answer. I understand why Jews finally learned to fight. But I don't understand why cousins feel they have to fight each other. Why not work together for a stronger, better home? All these grown-assed men with beards are killing babies, babies' mamas, children, old people, innocents. Will y'all keep killing until there is no one left to kill? No one left to remember the killings? Y'all are so Godless. How can you sleep? I hope you catch a super bad case of PTSDFBSA and for shooting. Make that PTSDFSAP = post traumatic stress disorder for shooting at people. And for killing people! Let's call it PTSDFKP = post traumatic disorder for killing people. 

I've bitten my nails so short . . . Why do I even care? If I keep this up I'll need a pill for PTSDFCATPKEO = post traumatic disorder from caring about those people who are killing each other. Whoa! Am missing a few letters, but you get what I mean. Now, spread THAT acronym. Maybe PEACE will come. PEACE = peace.

God is watching y'all. Just remember that. Oh. And WAR! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing! And another thing? You can always talk your way out of anything. Including an ass whipping. I know for sure that you can. You need to talk? Call me. I'll answer. Just don't shoot any more. Okay?

Hamas? Send me you mail address. I'd visit but I'm recovering from an illness. Israel? You can write too. There are some things you need to do as well. Y'all make me anxious. Every time I turn on the news, pick up a paper, or even check out my favorite blogs, what I learn makes me anxious. My address is over on OWM. Y'all be well.