If I have to explain the symbolism, you are lost. Okay! The recent election is just sinking in. No one came away happy. It was not a clear cut Democratic victory. There was something for everyone. In these days of endless spin our fear(ful)less leader spun out of control with his remarks and lies about the grand republican victory. Nope! There, so far, has been a 35 seat gain in the House of Representatives. That would be greater than at any time since 1974 after Nixon resigned. Resigned!… ahead of his own impeachment and conviction. See any parallels? Democrats don’t feel much better about things. Outright repudiation will have to wait. At least the madness is at a stop. It cannot be reversed outright. The games have begun and the 2020 derby is starting. Blue? Wave? Investigation? Can you say, “Here are my tax returns.” Yeah, say goodbye, you lying sack of …
This guy decided to rest upon the empty screw that awaited a wind spinner. He didn’t move. I got a bunch of shots. I’d like to shoot one flying. It’s technically too difficult for me at this point. I suppose I could do it. But that would be work. I’m retired. Sit! Stay!
I awoke this morning from a nightmare in which I was threatening a dear (Republican) friend – literally ending our friendship with venomous language in my dream. Sorry, Susie – not your fault.
Vote early! Vote often! Impeach their sorry asses! There is no defeat with grace. I don’t know many Republicans. And I will know fewer now. Grab pussy. Drink. Lie. Cheat. Shout. Call it fake news. Pass your agenda at any cost. Your end is near. Ignore the will of the people. But I am on the side of the good and of the majority.
VOTE THEM OUT!
It’s a tent for your vent! Mike and Jen have four cats and a dog. One of the cats was ill over the winter and she took to peeing down the floor heat/AC vents. The smell is noticeable. The cats were banished to the garage. Everyone’s miserable. I thought up some solutions. Then I went to bed and dreamt up the one solution I think will work. I built a mock up, got it approved, and then built the thing. Unfortunately, they did not tell me the cats had peed down all eleven vents. Oh well. The construction took a bit of time. The mosquitoes greeted me with a warm welcome. (I had to work in the garage.) But, done. I am counting on the fact that the cats won’t just back up over the angle. They’ll find something easier. Right? I hope. Anyone else need a catproof vent?
Epilogue: Banned again! The vent covers worked. Hurrah! Now they pee on the floor, rug, and desk. Oh my!
Epilogue to the epilogue: It’s been a while – the cats are in and out. One peed in the planter in front of owner and guests. But! … not down the vents! Yay! There was a political coffee for state candidate for attorney general. Her campaign manager asked. I was credited with the (original) work. No one is asking for me to make any more.
Back in 1994 before I knew what would happen, Jules named a dove who nested in her window box, Amelia. No ready water for plants, the window box had long been abandoned and was facing the street. We had plenty of pigeons. No doves. Amelia was fearless. She seemed to know the glass was protective against the humans on the other side. That little bird hatched clutch after clutch. Maybe it wasn’t the same bird, but, how do you argue with a ten-year old girl? I can only say that multiple births of one or more babies occurred across multiple years. My kids were careful to severely admonish me against scaring or annoying the birds. They stared back at me through the glass and never budged. She merely hatched another brood.
And then one day in August, 2006, the doves had a family reunion on our deck. The multiple generations gathered for that one time and quietly roosted anywhere and everywhere. There were more than twenty? Obviously, they remembered. I never saw them gather again. But on that one day, the doves that met reconnected with a memory of their birthplace. I was lucky enough to be there when it happened. It was an honor. I commend my kids for being so conscientious and caring. There are moments when you are proud of their kind and gentle souls.
Not that anyone will look, but, I posted this idea back in November 2011. Since I scanned my slides once more, I still think that this is a touching story. It bears repeating.
This is an old slide. Okay? I didn’t bother to correct the color. It’s the content that counts. I did not let Jules choke Dave… for long. No kids were harmed in the making of this slide. Ha! One might question whether I should have intervened immediately? As I said no one was harmed. One might argue that there was subliminal psychological scarring. As you can see from my previous post they grew up and remain close.
To that I say, “Fake News!” Hey! No joke. The Newseum shop in Washington DC pulled their “Fake News” T shirts when they got complaints. Ummm? They made money for the museum. Oh! It’s a museum devoted to the “News!” Controversial? They kept the make America great hats. I suppose there is only so much one can do. Are we too numb anymore?
Paris fashion? Paris in the springtime – it was a song. “I love….” There are a few photos of me going back in my archives. It’s interesting to see me before I was gray haired. It’s fairly obvious that I handed over my camera to document myself. That grey Domke bag was actually used completely. You know? Like I actually wore it to death. There’s something to be said to wearing your jeans until they wear out instead of having been manufactured “worn out.” I wore my signature khaki pants and fleece jacket. Not much has changed except that now I use a black camera bag and have gray hair. Me worry? Nah!
I must admit that I lack sympathy. I am in agreement. The big baby Trump blimp is quite appropriate. I’m passing this photo along. This is my means of telling the world. I am not proud of this man. He does not represent anything good. He has supporters. I do not understand how they can stand with him. Their time is limited and the end is near. The world is onto him now. We also have an electorate that gets it. The minority will not prevail when the wheel turns around once more. Thank you London, England.
There is an odd mix of craft that is accepted for entry at the fair. It’s not just sheep. Brooms, wood turning, music, there were vendors of all sorts from source to finished products. You could get elaborate finished wool and fresh off the lamb fleece. There was an odd booth which had products made from old silverware. Nice. The craftsman cut off the handles of spoons and forks and made napkin rings. We were short (only got six last year) and able to get the four more we needed. This year he made a one fingered salute of a pickle fork. Yeah, it kind of reflects the mood of the country right now. Use your imagination; this one doesn’t have a picture to explain. Just hold up your middle finger and look in the mirror.
From the NY Times. I’m frankly ashamed. We have sunk to the low of blaming infants and children for our immigration problems. We have separated children from their parents. We have made children political pawns. We have pulled out of the UN Human Rights Council. However you believe, it is not fair to blame and hold kids hostage. It’s a neat trick to blame the other side. The opposition is responsible when you (Donald Trump) have the power? You separated the families and have no plan to reunite them. You never had a plan. You don’t have one now. There is no evidence that any child has been in contact or reunited with their parent.
I will vote. And you will be gone. The sooner the better. Go live in a tent. You’re not living under a foil blanket. And to the rest of America: Whatever you believe whatever your politics, if you have a kid or know one, you can’t agree that kids should be treated this way. They are neither gang members or criminals. They are innocents.
PS – there are some (few) kids who have been reunited and others that were not taken from their parents. For the sake of clarity, I amend my post. Unlike our fearful leader, I do not try to tell lies. I’m not as low as he goes.