Most of this storm is behind us now.
It's not unreal enough to be surreal, just real enough to be a photoshop disaster when I replaced the window with another — the drops are dinosaur ginormous and light is coming from the wrong direction and masking my hair is just wrong but it's done and I'm done with it.
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Whatever it was that went thru the wash, at least it's the wrong color to be another cheque. And it matches our violas. Because mistakes should always be coordinated with one's garden doncha know?
Funny how for the last few months the heat to my extremities is improved. My hands are often warm and pink instead of grey as the dead.
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Just after midnight, the pub remarkably crowded for a Tuesday night.
Did we remember to look for Harvey?
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Tuesday writing circle
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A bunch of maple keys in fact. And look at that, fingernails again. (This fascinates me more than you I know.)
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a variant of guerilla knitting on trees and lampposts was left by someone in the park.
kids going by all wanted to run up to the web. one little sister scolded little brother not to touch. he can look but not touch. there might be spiders.
Spider, by Barry Dempster. I like his gentle self-mocking tone, his imaginative twists.
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The hat is from Belarus and the dress is from Kuwait. The texture layer is by iBrigs at the Thestures for Layer group. The translations are courtesy of Omniglot who has a language blog.
In no particular order languages pictured include: Finnish, Vietnamese, Arabic, Persian, Inuktituk, Klingon, Armenian, Greek, Scottish Gaelic, Duck, Italian, French, Dog, Tagalog, Chinese, Hebrew, Gujarati and Norwegian.
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Surfing online couldn't be more safe.
(Well, perhaps it could, but I couldn't find my kneepads.)
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Monty Reid, myself, rob mclennan and one more writer giving the rabbit's ears thru the glass. But we won't say who, will we Warren Dean Fulton?
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In the 365-doldrums. One pic at a time back out. Was going to do a indoor staged one but the sun and warm is too nice to miss.
This one run thru cross-processing and 60s-effect of Flickr effects. Like how the stiffness and stillness of me and the antiquing is at odds with the cycling and movement in the background.
Ooh, and sometime today someone tiptoed in as the 2500th page view of this blog.