Photography Thinks
The more severe the hit, the longer it takes. Photog, modeling or shooting doesn’t matter. I refocused. But I still cannot avoid the pain, especially when DRUMp goes after a judge, a USDC one for that matter.
Remind me what I did, exactly – Justice and a showing that judges aren’t flower pots or sub human.
Jules Feiffer died after living for 95 years. He wrote books and screenplays and drew cartoons. His wisdom extended from sex to politics and his reach from a weekly progressive newspaper to the Hollywood screen. https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/21/arts/jules-feiffer-dead.html
Who knew he wrote a children’s book? I read it. Made no sense and flew in the face of reality for bear lovers. A kid with many friends, one of which is a bear, loses her bear. Her father wants to teach her a lesson, so he won’t help her. Mother offers some not so helpful suggestions. And her sister, who is more mature criticizes her for using nail polish and cajoles her into sacrificing one of her family of friends.
How does it end. Happily. She jumps into bed and voila, “Bearsly” lies under the covers, right where she left him/her.
Now, I am a bear person. Couldn’t live without their love and affection. I always know where they are. Sharon said that during my 17 weeks in the hospital, the hardly slept and crawled around the house looking for me.
Well, I am putting on some weight and building muscle. Not much cooperation from my body which has sprung a hernia (operation scheduled for January 13, 2025). Lots of doctors still on the list and not a lot of options. Have adjusted to the new cancer meds and my blood has been storing oxygen. Go Hemo, Go!
So, I keep walking and talking. Put here to live and then die. Walk and talk. No need to worry about what the future holds. The sands on the hour glass trickle at an excruciating rate, which, for me, is just fine. More time to do what I do and more time to play with Sharon.
Art Jacoby, my photo buddy, and I returned to Morikami for a walk which we had not taken together since I got sick in March. I got some of my usual shots, as did he. And I made it around.
There is always a group that wants a picture. They asked Art, because, as one said, he has the bigger camera. I love group shots. Set up my own shot, shot and gave the group leader a card. We will see if he contacts me.
The gardens are not in full bloom, because even Florida has winter, leaving fewer places to hide. Paredeolia runs rampant in that place.
Just enough places to take a brief nap, though, amidst the trees and falls.
You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant, except Alice. We all got something there. Some of us even got to sit on the group W bench. Now there is no restaurant. And, with Alice’s death there is no Alice.
Through Arlo, a story of Thanksgiving, the draft and social justice is told. As Arlo described it, “(t)his song is called Alice’s Restaurant, and it’s about Alice, and the restaurant, but Alice’s restaurant is not the name of the restaurant, that’s just the name of the song and that’s why I called the song Alice’s Restaurant.”
So, I started out at a 10:00 movie which turned out to be Blah movie. Couldn’t hear most of the dialogue. Story did not live up to the reviews. Small Things…. Oh, look what I brought you for Christmas, a new family member. I wondered more about the town’s reaction to the last scene more than the movie itself, which was blah. So, the church takes in girls and works them in a laundry. A girl has become pregnant and is forced to sleep in the coal shed that the main character delivers coal to. He gets bribed to keep the story silent with a cash payment and semi promise that his daughters will be admitted to the Catholic school. In the meantime, he finds out he was raised by a protestant after his mother died unexpectedly. Blah. Blah. And he washed his hands a lot.
Movie give something to think about, but since I couldn’t hear all the dialogue, accents and bad sound, I had to fill in the blanks. Movie has great acting and good cinematography, but was not as suspenseful or exciting as I had hoped.
Then when I could not figure out what I wanted for lunch. Settled for Blah pizza.
Then I went to Doris. Got into a stupid argument with the owner over a $6.95 return of green olives. Picked up a lobster, drank complimentary sparkling and came home to get over the blahs.
So, last night as I prepared dinner, I noticed how beautiful the Bok Choy looked. Slated for a stir-fry to accompany lamb chops, baked potato, and creamed spinach, I decided to take a picture of it and then cook it.
Alas, I got the shot ready by putting the Bok Choy on a stand and left the kitchen to grab a camera. During the trip, I forgot about the shoot and went on with the rest of the meal prep. Its write-offable as a senior moment or pills + a glass of sparkling wine.
Upon arising this AM, there on the kitchen counter, stood the noble Bok Choy.. Its expression? What happened to the fridge, it asked, throwing up its arms, looking for divine help.
Me? Not a believer in my own prayers helping out. I just looked for someone to blame. May it taste as good tonight with dinner.
So, it’s Sunday and time for a stroll in our swamp at Arthur Marshall – Loxahatchee. Vegetation closing for the winter, slowly.
Hard to slip around unnoticed. Spies hide out in the trees.
Leaf droop, unfit for a king, but good enough for us.
Sharon. Never be afraid of your lines or sagging. Don’t fear wrinkles or varicose veins. Don’t lose that spirit to live that looms so large that there is enough for you and still a little left over for me. Without you, life would be so empty and not worth living. You make me want to get up in the morning.
Our dear friend Howard Kane sent this orchid arrangement to Sharon. Lovely. Just lovely.
One of Trump’s imaginary intruders.
If you don’t completely close your blinds, you will know who walks down your stairs. Vigilance.