I lifted this layout right off Shutterfly. Who’s got rights? I have been told nothing disappears from the internet. But, how’d it get there? Shutterfly, it took over after Kodak folded. They send emails to me of “memories” from time past. I mostly don’t pay attention. I did, once upon a time, upload a lot of images to Kodak in order to share pictures. But, hey! Where did these come from? They are long after I uploaded anything to Kodak and definitely not on Shutterfly. I don’t use the service. It’s not transparent. I can easily see who owns Shutterfly. For sure, they did not ever receive or have permission to snag these digital images. By, the way, their periodic reminders of memories from the past are (mostly) unhappy remembrances at this point. They wouldn’t know – a smiling face is a smiling face. I’m just wondering. However. So far it’s so. What’s on the ‘net lingers forever. In this particular instance I do hope the (these) memories last forever. This one was an “extended” first date, the best I ever had.
It’s interactive. It’s easy. You go to a museum. You get inspired. You make art. Example: Fans – Guggenheim Museum, New York City circa 2014. The beach hotel shower served as inspiration ala the Gugg. We weren’t done. Portland circa 2018, ala Star Trek, open fifth. Okay open seventh, but that’s a musical term. Once more I ask you, “WTF, a set of floor fans is worthy of exhibit at the Guggenheim.” I must be outta my head. Sorry, I can’t be. I am/was a neurosurgeon. Damn!
I hate it, when they change things. WordPress, the sponsor of this blog site has changed the format for creating and editing a post. Yay! By now everyone has had a chance to try it. I hate change. I just got used to editing and creating…. What if one had to change wives every…. Oh shit! I’m in deep shit….. Please forgive me honey, I don’t know what came over me. I’m so terribly sorry! 🙂
Butt soap – for Ginny, or Emma – there’s a side for your face and one for your ass. Don’t get mixed up? Please. (You know who you are.)
This home was for sale. It sits in the harbor on a bridge/walk right in the middle of everything. It’s the proverbial goldfish bowl. What comes to mind is that I may never walk around in my underwear. Colleen fell in love with it and begged… I said no. Luckily, on this occasion, I got my way. It’s not often I win. Lately, though, I don’t walk around in my underwear any more. Darn!
There’s a TV show: The Best Thing I Ever Ate. The title is apropos. It’s too simple: a lobster shooter. Add lobster to a glass of butter in a shot glass. But memorable!! Colleen still talks about it. We were passing thru town past another lobster restaurant. Maine, there are lots of lobster. Do ya think? Colleen still talks about it. I had the old wedding standard – scallops wrapped in bacon.
Do you embarrass your spouse before or after lunch? Before she’s officially your spouse? Guess? Did I say Lincolnville, Maine?
I tried to shoot the puffins. … as in photograph them. I made three trips. The first two were duds. I never saw a puffin. The boat to the island could not land. I chummed both times. Up and down, up and down, went the boat. Up came whatever breakfast there was. On this particular trip I was tearing across Maine at around 3:30AM to get to the boat dock. Ok, maybe a bit later. Dawn! This turns out to be the picture of the day! No puffins! I told you, I chummed. Wanna see? No? Well, then this is the sum and substance of that trip. It might not look too swell, but the work I put in to get to this pic is what makes it even more special to me. It’s never so good as when you realize later that the best picture of the day was the first.
And on the next day…Dave asked me about whitewater rafting. Way back more than a decade ago … Jules and I were whitewater rafting in Maine. It was summer but the water was still cold. And the object of the boat driver was to dump you in the water. It was very cold. We had a great time. I relied on my database and Lightroom to locate the files. It wasn’t too painful. We all had a laugh over these memories.
There is no picture of the madder. You would probably not recognize it. We bought two. It is for dying. That is, you use the root to make a dye for yarn – red. The pedigree is that this particular plant came from the queen’s garden in Kensington. How about that? I have no way to confirm. We have wintered it and it thrived. Then I set It out on the deck when we went on an extended road trip. The only thing that survived was a few very tiny (near microscopic) leaves. I threw the plant out twice because I thought it was dead. It got replanted again and again. My hope? I will revive it and be able to be “back” in the family. Our quest to obtain one met with a lot of poor puns. “Whatsa madder with you?” Geez, could you guys get a better line?
“Before the term existed she proclaimed we would marry and had her mother invite me to a “playdate” at age eight. We were in the same classroom 3rd to 6th grade. When I moved we never communicated again. Fifty years later, I was deleting junk emails when Elkins caught my eye in the subject. Another classmate was inviting me to a class reunion, a class I never graduated with. Colleen? Oh, yes, she’s still around, recently widowed. She responded to my email with, “I’m nosy…” Within a month it was true love. Can you say happily ever after?”
I penned this for the New York Times – Tiny Love Stories. They didn’t publish it. Too many other submissions, mine not good enough.
We were classmates in third grade. Yes, many decades ago. Maine called to Colleen. Pemaquid lighthouse was the place, 2014. We returned last fall, the marriage still not complete. You can guess her longing and frustration. It was technical not reluctance on my part. We already live in a home together. Colleen chose our home in a day and I agreed from Saudi. People have said we looked “married.” I suppose we did. “Happily ever after” is not just in fairy tales.
Love is: “never having to worry about the wind in your hair.”
Four years ago, we sold our apartment in Manhattan. I bought a new camera, actually a fair amount of new equipment that I had lusted after. This was followed by an extended trip to Maine. This year is redux; we travel back to Maine. I got this spiffy camera. I’m not a fan of Sony as a camera though I have owned many Sony videocams and Walkman. Four years ago, cats were theoretical. I had never met a cat I liked or who liked me. It’s been quite a transition. I’m out of Manhattan. I don’t miss it for all the troubles you have to put up with. I miss the action and the restaurants. But I eat well and don’t lack for anything to do. And it is/was time for a new phase. This one is way more peaceful. Anyway, things have a way of repeating. This one time it worked out. The road I have taken has been pretty spectacular.
Symmetry? We had another spectacular trip to Maine. Did I mention it was spectacular?
So, we wandered through the animal display at the country fair. I’m not interested in chickens or rabbits. They are caged and you can’t get a good image. Whoa! Was I wrong! Thanks for dragging me in. Can you believe the images I got eyeball to eyeball with these chickens. And one even laid an egg for me. Hairy feet? Ok feathered feet? Crowing on demand? And the colors and the patterns. Oh my! I’m used to Perdue under plastic wrap. Too beautiful to eat… This was an extraordinarily wonderful unexpected find that I was dragged into seeing. Thanks!
He was in the lottery sales booth when I took this picture. Was he the salesman? I watched him struggle with his shirt. I admit it was a bit warm. What? Why? You decide. I’m stuck with this visual. Did I mean struck?
Pemaquid lighthouse. Everyone comes with camera or iPhone to get a photograph of the lighthouse. I sit and watch them scramble all over the rocks up and down, every which way. They take their shots and move on. Only a few will see the reflection in the tidal pool. Virtually no one will point out this shot. One kind Englishman in all the times I have been here actually took the time to point (I already knew) down at the pool for me. And in all the others I have tried on occasion to point out the quintessential image to some passersby. Largely unnoticed is a gem at their feet. Move on, next attraction, , . look mom, see where I’ve been. Look down at your feet.
Well, this was a first for me. I’m old. This is my first lobster. I don’t eat lobster. Nope! Nada! Never! Ok! But sometimes a bit of lobster bisque. I like the wine flavor. I’ve cooked/steamed lobster. I didn’t like that either. Afterward I turned over the carcass to the eater. The most fun I have had is in shooting a lobster. Yeah yeah, I mean photographing one while scuba diving. But finally, I am subject to the dissection. My companion would eat it steamed but had never taken one apart. At least I knew the theory. Oh, the mess! And the smell of lobster juice on your fingers… no! I did not do anything more than dissect… nary a taste. When you consider that: how you say the title can have two different meanings. I prefer a command interrogative, not entirely accurate but it sounds good. Now that I have broken down a lobster, bring it on!
Here’s something I don’t see often and never in Maine until now. Tuna. I don’t know how large. Say about 300 pounds? At least! It was a big one. It made quite a hit at the dock. I heard some loud voices and peeked over the rail to see the commotion. This was a big fish tale. How big?! But this was no trophy fish. It was headed for the market and a handsome profit. Within moments of hauling the fish onto the dock it was already being dissected. Off with its head! Soon to follow were the fins. They used a simple power saw. Onto the truck. Off and away to market. The head was tossed upon the dock and soon discarded for lobster bait. Nothing goes to waste.
There’s an artist whose work I saw yesterday. He depicted various tradesmen of Maine at their work. One was a lobsterman. And then I saw an old man pick up a poster/print of that lobsterman and mistakenly wondered if he was the man who had posed for the print. No, he was just an old man shopping in the gift store. But his appearance was striking and made me think that he did not seem the tourist who would be wandering like us. I had a cut over my eye once. It was from a door slamming back into my forehead as I walked through on the way to work. It would have required stitches but I was to hurried and too stubborn. Besides the shoemaker (surgeon) has no shoes (stitches/sense). That cut bled all afternoon during my office hours. Heaven knows what my patients thought when they saw me walk into the exam room with a bloody tissue over my forehead.
Here’s the Queen Mary 2 docked in port in Rockland, Maine. It’s a bit overwhelming for the poor little lighthouse beside it. I’ve been there. it’s at the end of a very long rock dock. It’s a long walk – a mile. The light house is several stories tall. Or… that’s one big f’n ship! I saw signs in town welcoming passengers into the shops. You get a few hours in town to souvenir shop and to see what there is to see. No one eats. Food is plentiful and free onboard. I did not know this until I took my one and only cruise. So, restaurants are SOL Maybe someone will sit down to a lobster dinner or a famous lobster roll? Who knows? Meanwhile that big boat is messing with my picture of the lighthouse.
I have been to this lighthouse many times. I remember the first. Bob took me. We were riding in the car to breakfast. We stopped. I was very pleasantly surprised that he was kind enough to take me to this great photo op. I’ve been back myself many a time. each time I try for a different look or view. But a lighthouse is still a lighthouse….It’s not easy to get to. It’s out of the way. Not many people come here. I do. Forest Gump did. You would too if you really wanted to do it. Mostly folks don’t.
Red’s is an institution in Wiscasset, Maine.The place is crowded day and night. It sits on a choke point at a bridge crossing. i haven’t tried the food – hot dogs. There is absolutely no appeal to standing on a line in Maine.
This is an experiment in night shooting. Ordinarily the light on the sign would overwhelm the scene. Either you would read the sign or it would be overexposed and you would see people. I don’t know how they made this algorithm. But I can read the sign while seeing details of the people standing below the sign. Geez! How’d they do that? But more to the point, knowing that the camera will capture a night scene with more even exposure, that will make me better in capturing the scene. Kodak never did that for me. Thank you, Sony.
I don’t really want one. I don’t smoke them. The location Runaround Pond. The occasion – none. How did I get this one? …haven’t a clue. Why? It seemed like a good idea. I don’t inhale. Ha! Maybe it was a Cuban? Doubt it. The photograph is all the memory I have. I remember the setting. The circumstances are lost forever. There was a certain degree of pleasure in just taking the time to smell the roses. I would tell Colleen I want a cigar. It’s just a joke. I would never really smoke one. ??
Open mouth, insert foot. As a physician/surgeon I saw a lot of patients and their families. As a surgeon, who doesn’t need to know, never ask if a family member is pregnant though she may look very much so. Don’t ask when they are due. Do not congratulate them. Odds are, you are correct. And then, once in a while you are mistaken. “I’m not pregnant.” Yup, ooops!
It’s like it never happened. This belly dancing class was giving a demonstration in Maine. Yup, Maine. Do I remember? Yes, I remember the demonstration but not the particulars to any of the participants. Congratulations! The kid must be near ten by now.
It’s ain’t me. It’s about nine year since I took the first picture you see. It’s on my blog and on my “About” (this blog) page. The image was shot on a back road of Maine. The image has a white primitive rail fence along the roadside and the fall colors are just peaking. I was shocked to see the same fence recently. I had seen it in good repair in 2014. We speculate that the owner died or became disabled and no one keeps up with the maintenance any longer. I have no way to know. The farm is still functional. There is a farmhouse in good repair. I’m saddened that something so picturesque has deteriorated so badly. I am glad to say that it’s not me who suffered a similar fate. I hope I’ll still be kicking around for a long time to come.
Hey! I went to an old elementary school in Elkins, West Virginia. Don’t ask. But we had desks just like this. You can see the ink well desk holes. We did not use ink. But I sat in these desks for my elementary years in First Ward school. The front of the room was not as quaint as the image and set up in this Shaker village school. I used the set up to set up my own image. A little Photoshop later and voila. The gal you see would be Colleen who as it turns out was a classmate from 3rd to 6th grade in the same elementary school. She swears her name was later in the alphabet and that she sat in the back of the class. It’s a lot of years gone by. I am sure that at least one year I sat in the back on the left.
Shaker brooms were a sought after commodity. They were very popular and many copies were made by others. Modern manufacturing has mass produced brooms and I have owned and used a similar but not Shaker crafted broom. The demonstration of a perfectly crafted broom is that it will stand unassisted. It is a stepped process to make a broom and you can see the quality of the workmanship.