Evolution in progress, perhaps, osso. Or perhaps not. The squirrels are arguably smarter than some of the UVA students, cell phones to their ears, who obliviously step out into traffic without a glance. Grr.
(btw, Jo, watch for my email coming to you about architecture. It may be this evening. Aimed at my partners but with a copy to you).
My car passed it's first 22-point inspection with flying colors.
Glad to hear that it passed, eoe.
Was there some doubt that it might not?
What made me smile today?
That my dog is alive.
Also, knowing that the staff on here are a good group of people whoever "they" may be.
TWENTY-NINE LINES TO MAKE YOU SMILE
1.. My husband and I divorced over religious differences.
He thought he was God and I didn't.
2.. I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.
3.. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them.
4.. I used to have a handle on life, but it broke.
5.. Don't take life too seriously; No one gets out alive.
6.. You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me
7.. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.
8.. Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.
9. I'm not a complete idiot -- Some parts are just missing.
10.. Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.
11 NyQuil, the stuffy, sneezy, why-the-heck-is-the-room-spinning medicine.
12.. God must love stupid people; He made so many.
13.. The gene pool could use a little chlorine.
14.. Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.
15.. Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?
16.. Being "over the hill" is much better than being under it!
17.. Wrinkled Was Not One of the Things I Wanted to Be When I Grew up.
18.. Procrastinate Now!
19.. I Have a Degree in Liberal Arts; Do You Want Fries With That?
20.. A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
21.. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance
22.. Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere!
23.. They call it PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.
24.. He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless DEAD.
25.. A picture is worth a thousand words, but it uses up three
thousand times the memory.
26.. Ham and eggs?A day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig
27.. The trouble with life is there's no background music.
28.. The original point and click interface was a Smith & Wesson.
29.. I smile because I don't know what the hell is going on.
I, along with a whole bunch of other folks on this mild day in Virginia, attended a memorial service for Arlene S. She died Sunday before last. It was held in a public park.
There was no formal agenda. People just told stories about this remarkable lady of indeterminate age. She was tall, taller that johnboy at six feet. And very thin, thinner than johnboy. For as long as I knew her she had to use canes and, on bad days, a walker. She was a fixture at the downtown market on Saturday's peddlling her watercolor paintings and greeting cards. We never talked politics, but she deliberately lived in a scruffy part of town.
Anyway, I told this story: There was this old hardware-feed store downtown called Gleason's. I loved going there for the smell of the place and to talk with the old guy who wore a suit everyday and remembered everyone's name.
They sold flower bulbs in the fall and I went in one day and he whispered to me confidentially, come back tomorrow, They will go to 50% off tomorrow. I didn't make it back tomorrow, but a few days later and all of them were gone.
"Arlene bought them" he said, although I still think that the Gleason family was more involved than they ever admitted. She, without bothering to ask anyone for permission, started to plant them in parks. Eventually, before winter set in, city crews planted the rest of them. Thousands of them.
No ordinances were passed, no board of landscape design ruled on the appropriate mix of daffodils or tulips. It was done. Move on.
Anyway, that was how I spent a part of my afternoon. A lot of laughter with a broad spectrum of folks remembering Arlene, who was truly one of a kind.
realjohnboy wrote:I, along with a whole bunch of other folks on this mild day in Virginia, attended a memorial service for Arlene S. She died Sunday before last. It was held in a public park.
There was no formal agenda. People just told stories about this remarkable lady of indeterminate age. She was tall, taller that johnboy at six feet. And very thin, thinner than johnboy. For as long as I knew her she had to use canes and, on bad days, a walker. She was a fixture at the downtown market on Saturday's peddlling her watercolor paintings and greeting cards. We never talked politics, but she deliberately lived in a scruffy part of town.
Anyway, I told this story: There was this old hardware-feed store downtown called Gleason's. I loved going there for the smell of the place and to talk with the old guy who wore a suit everyday and remembered everyone's name.
They sold flower bulbs in the fall and I went in one day and he whispered to me confidentially, come back tomorrow, They will go to 50% off tomorrow. I didn't make it back tomorrow, but a few days later and all of them were gone.
"Arlene bought them" he said, although I still think that the Gleason family was more involved than they ever admitted. She, without bothering to ask anyone for permission, started to plant them in parks. Eventually, before winter set in, city crews planted the rest of them. Thousands of them.
No ordinances were passed, no board of landscape design ruled on the appropriate mix of daffodils or tulips. It was done. Move on.
Anyway, that was how I spent a part of my afternoon. A lot of laughter with a broad spectrum of folks remembering Arlene, who was truly one of a kind.
we, my grandfather and meself, always bought 100 chicks every spring from the feed store; it was my job to do the butchering every fall as my grandmother scalded and plucked the fryers to be made ready for the freezer (which was hidden in the barn so the meter reader didn't know we had one and raised the bill) I hated the smell of scalding chickens and to this day don't eat chicken.
RJB's story made me smile.....
dys's story made me guffaw.
(Not everyone knows how to guffaw, you know.)
dyslexia wrote: I hated the smell of scalding chickens and to this day don't eat chicken.
My parents knew this couple, Clarance and Edith. They retired to VA and had a 50 acre peach and apple orchard. I helped pick the crop in the fall, often staying at their place, when I was 14 or 15 or so. He was a very quiet man, a tough guy to engage in conversation. But, once, I did get him to tell me about the Depression in wherever he was in rural mid-America. And he talked about chickens the same way you do, and how, from 1939 or so on, he never was able to eat chicken.
In Virginia, after he retired, he got involved with Lions Club and the Kiwanis Club and the the Vol Fire Dept, but every event involved fried chicken. And he hated chicken.
I like to cook with Dys and Diane (and Sally and Fred) sometimes, but I don't ever get to make my (Giuliano Bugialli's) lemon chicken...
Looking forward to catching up on that design email, RJB.
By the way, are you still up for the train thing?
Nods to Arlene.....
ehBeth wrote:<snip>
and then ... I kept hearing this whispering at work. Eventually figgered out it was the gal whose desk backs onto mine. <snip>
my desk buddy wanted to meet me under our desks - she'd dropped some paper and I was supposed to crawl under my desk to retrieve it
We ended up spending nearly 15 minutes down there - enjoying the quiet - and organizing her shoes
If I ever get the new camera sorted out, I 've got a great photo of R and some of her shoes under the desk.
I smiled when I realized I'd managed to get the photos off of the camera - and hidden them in an album labelled 2004
new cameras - there's always something to adjust
...............
were those pictures taking in a mosque ?
people seem to have removed their shoes before entering the sanctuary .
hbg
The other day I went to stock up on soaps etc at Lush - come there every two months or so. I was going around the shop getting my stuff, and one of the girls who worked there walked up to me quietly and said, I'm sorry - excuse me - I finally understand she's talking to me - and she says, "sorry, but - I really liked the blue trousers you were wearing - the last time you were here..".
Yesterday I made a quick stop at the supermarket. The Checkout Gal in the Quick Lane asked me whether I'd planted my garden yet. I told her it was a little early--the frost free date in these parts is Memorial Day weekend.
She said, "I thought you'd have a garden. You look like a Real Artistic Lady with flowers and oil paintings and everything."
Made my day.
nimh wrote:The other day I went to stock up on soaps etc at Lush - come there every two months or so. I was going around the shop getting my stuff, and one of the girls who worked there walked up to me quietly and said, I'm sorry - excuse me - I finally understand she's talking to me - and she says, "sorry, but - I really liked the blue trousers you were wearing - the last time you were here..".
Was she trying to tell you that you shouldn't go shopping with no trousers on?
You think so?
I thought, if I can go to A2K without trousers on, I can go to Lush too..
<smiles along with nimh>
Diane and I went on an art studio tour in Corrales today. First of all Corrales is a startlingy beauiful area in all kinds of weather, with all kinds of skies. I'll probably post some photos in an art thread showing the type of landscape and housing in the vicinity, the views, and some of the art we saw. I could have used rolls of film but didn't. Well, the second to the last studio we visited was fantastic. I can't tell if it is owned by one person or is a cooperative, but it is a place that artists meet. I liked virtually everything in there, and I'm picky. I liked the building, I liked the casual but charming placement of beautiful ceramics along the walk to the front door. I liked the table surrounded by three women doing wonderful bookmark type cards. I loved the paintings of a woman named Tara Zalewsky. I coveted a lot of the pottery by Catherine Veblen. I liked a portrait of two women by an artist whose name I might recognize but forget right this minute, a deceptively simple and small piece that elegantly captured the personality of the women.
I didn't see, but Diane did, some of the work of an very nice fellow named Paul, who then sent us to see one more Corrales studio, which we also liked, that one belonging to Pietro Angel Palladini, who showed other painters besides himself, all friendly to us. Plus we loved his very older dog, named, I believe, Hazel.
Then we stopped for milkshakes, thoroughly beauty-sated. Hope my photos turn out (my digital camera still sits there waiting for me to get started with it.)
