two'fer tuesday: nailed...

[ voting is closed... yeesh... ]

our modern home...

on the 9th tee...

the dance...

golden hour
colors peak
shadows stretch long
daylight wakes slowly
throws back the blanket
scatters tiny dew drop stars
over the steaming ground
sunlight stretches
penetrates deep into buildings
through windows and doors
to find an opening
to tickle the darkness
the darkness is not amused
and scowls in reply
daylight bellows in laughter
retreats high into the clouds
darkness breaths shallow
reminded of weakness
knowing daylight will return

two'fer tuesday: scenes from a hospital...

[ Yes, yes... Voting is closed... ]

welcome to monday...

theme thursday went bye bye...

Since Theme Thursday is gone, Dale @ Spun With Tears has decided to pick up the slack...

This photo was taken on the 18th tee box last Saturday. Evidently the foursome in front of us was too sophisticated for Budwiser...

i'm using the word hate here...

I hate it. Hate. H. A. T. E. Overreacting, you say? I think not. It's not a product of my imagination, not just some schoolboy distain for healthy green vegetables. I eat lots of vegetables. I even like collard greens and spinach. I just hate lettuce.

I freely admit that the problem is my own. I have no problem with that. I'm sure it's simply a matter of genetics. My taste buds developed early a sever allergic reaction to iceberg. The slightest hint of it and I taste it for days. My mother has the genetic anomaly that causes her taste buds to register cilantro as soap. Odd, but it's true. I've seen her expression when she got a big piece of raw cilantro in a bite of salsa once. Her facial expression instantly twisted to one of surprise and disgust, much like sipping milk from the carton before noticing the expired date.

As handicaps go, it hasn't been much of a burden, really. Occasionally I'll find the dreaded green on a drive-thru burger, but it can usually be removed. Unless, of course, it's the shredded lettuce. That crap is impossible to extricate.

Once, in a lunch meeting for work, we ordered delivery from a certain deli (let's call it Schlapshey's). My usual order from this establishment is fairly simple: dijon chicken with out lettuce. Doesn't seem all that difficult to understand. I'm actually asking for less than I'm paying for. I'm asking the underpaid college frat boy to do less work. He should have been thanking me. Instead he gives me lettuce. Shredded lettuce. Lots and lots of shredded lettuce. So we send the delivery boy back to Schlapskey's. What does he return with? You guessed it. A small dijon chicken sandwich buried under mounds of the dreaded shredded green. So trip three for the delivery boy. This time he goes into the deli and makes it himself. This time my order is correct. By this time, everyone else has finished eating, the meeting is over, and I'm starving.

Sigh. Next time I'll tell you about the time Jennifer's grandmother fixed us a wonderful meal and neglected to tell my lactose intolerant self that there was heavy cream in the soup.

two'fer tuesday: water drops...

[ voting has closed... ]

on the course again...

While I played about 14 holes in Destin over the 4th of July weekend, yesterday was my first full round of golf in 3+ years. I stopped playing back in 2001 because of problems with my genetically defective knees. I had surgery on the left one in 2002 and surgery on the right one in 2003. The surgery has certainly helped. I used to play 18 holes of my favorite course walking and carrying my clubs. Eventually, I couldn't play more than 9 while riding in a cart before my knees would begin to swell. A few more holes and the pain was too much to continue. Yesterday, I was fine. Today I'm in pain. I've not played in 3 years and evidently I've not used several muscle groups since 2001. That's ok. After 3 years hiatus, I shot a 92. I can work with that...

photo from the memphis zoo...

hey sandra, sorry this is late...

At first site, I was fascinated. The green, metallic sheet against the pale pink rose petal. The colors so vibrant and alive, so understated and subdued. Then I noticed the missing. Sometimes it's what you don't see that fascinates you. Sometimes the missing pieces steals the thousand words and begs for a thousand more.

My brother won an art contest in school once. He entered a painting on a whim. Elated but confused, he asked one of the judges what in the painting they found meritorious, which quality was deserving of the blue ribbon prize. The judge said simply "It's what you didn't paint."

It was the missing that reminded me of the song, and the song that sent me out for the poem that inspired it. Jeanne Murray Walker's Grasshopper is tragic, to say the least. Certainly seems our little green friend, here, feels the victim of tragedy. Certainly he understands loss.

Or does he? How much does an antenna mean to a bug? As much as an eye means to me? Did he lose his depth perception? Does he often lose his way? Can he still pick up his favorite AM station? Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

a beer to quench your...

[ yes... i know i owe my guest a story for her lovely photos... we had some troubles w/ the house we're building and i was detained from writing it... it's coming shortly. ]

two'fer tuesday: live from portugal...

[ Voting closed... Or guest photographer has suggested some better names as reflected above... ]

this and that...

Someone I had previously considered a close friend asked why I've not posted lately. Before I could reply with my litany of tepid excuses, she further asked "Are you waiting for the guest writer?"

"What guest writer?" asked I.

"The one you obviously need to hire."

Ouch. With friends like these... But journaling is an odd monster, and the online variety even more monster-ishly daunting. There is an external pressure towards consistency, if not of quality, of content at least. People who frequent the kudzu want to be readers, but without content they can't be readers, only visitors. In that daily journey thorough our favorite links, a webblog without new content is like visiting a friend at their home and have them stare at you blankly.

Compounding the frustration of both reader and writer is the temporal nature of life. The more you have happen around you, the more material you have to write about, but the less time you have to actually write it down. The more you wax poetic about doing, the less time you have to actually do. There's an equilibrium somewhere, but it's elusive, much like finding the point of neutral buoyancy while scuba diving. It takes practice. But once you've found it, conditions change. You move a few feet up or down, the pressures change, and you have to readjust. Anyone who's driven a long interstate trip knows you can't just set the cruise control and forget it. Cars will move in your way and you'll have to adjust. Up a tick to hurry up and pass a semi. Down a tick to match the car your drafting. Down many, many ticks when you notice the patrol car up ahead.

Balance. Equilibrium. Neutral buoyancy. Cruise Control. We all want it. We're all looking for it. God knows we all need it.

"But wait," you may interject. "I want the 'litany of tepid excuses' you mentioned. What have you been doing that would keep you from posting?"

Nothing much of consequence, really, mostly pertaining to some of this, a bit of that, and a whole lot of you know what... But for fear of sounding like I'm ungrateful for my life, that's all I'm going to say. The good news here is that I can save another $.37 on postage this Christmas. Chalk one up for always looking on the bright side.

26'fer tuesday: all done...

My 26 Things scavenger hunt for July 2004 is complete.

Enjoy...

[ Two'fer Tuesday will return next week with a guest photographer from across the big pond... ]

26 things iii update...

• July 2004


• Lines


• Mechanical


• Stretch


• Through


• Bottom


• Organised


• Different


• Far Away

• Green


• Mug


• Dummy


• At Night


• Liquid


• Artificial


• Out of Reach


• Switch


• Relief

• Blades


• Missing


• Underground


• Historic


• Button


• Popular


• Grand


• Exotic


• Delicious