greatest toy ever invented...

two'fer tuesday: weather...

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grumpy like monday...

pardon the mess...

i'm in the middle of changing host companies, so things might be out of sync for a day or so...

sorry...

how do you say bedtime?...

a cast of a thousand puppets fill my dreams...

i don't know what it is, either...

I missed the sixties by just a few years. From what I've seen and heard, I'm not too sure that doesn't make me rather fortunate. Being born into the disco era, when simple clothing choices could scar you for life, was bad enough. But having avoided the actual experience, I'm rather amused by the hippie stereotype, much like Coleman is amused when I juggle. He has no idea what I'm doing or why, and try as he might, he can't really emulate it, but it sure makes him giggle. I think hippies, with all the fizzy hair and colorful tie-dye remind me of clowns. clowns are funny.

Just because we were born a tad too late for the "Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out" craze, doesn't mean Timothy Leary and his crowd had no effect on the youth of the early 80's. In those early adolescent years, I had more than a few friends who took the occasional chemical vacation. For instance, a friend in ninth grade had the nickname refer, more because he acted like he was always stone than because he was high. Never the less, such things were not unknown in my circle of influence. Not long after the beginning of ninth grade, we moved. New city, new state, new friends. Moving, along with a heaping of divine intervention, is most likely the reason I avoided drugs myself. Who knows. I may have made it through my teen years unmarred by chemical abuse even if we had stayed in Florida. Maybe I should give more credit to Nancy Reagan's "Just Say No" campaign. Maybe I should just say "Thanks Mom and Dad for not raising an idiot..."

Having missed the hippie parade in action, and having avoided all illegal drug use, I can't help but wonder why such a cool photo of a glass sculpture would make me thing of bongs. Go figure.

guilt or insomnia?...

Not sure why, but I just posted all the days from last week I was going to post something but didn't... I purchased a new lens for my birthday, so I've been shooting a lot with it this week. Enjoy.

two'fer tuesday: abstractions...

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Be sure to give Bob some Kudzu love and visit his site after you vote...

pure plastic evil...

Ok, let's get this straight right here and right now. Satan invented the spork. "The spork?" you say?!? You know... That half-spoon, half-fork plastic frankenuntensil we're expected to eat with. Usually found in take out boxes and employee break room drawers, the spork has proven itself to be pure evil.

Let us lay aside two of the most common myths surround this odd creature. 1) The spork is not a spoon! To be classified as a spoon, a utensil should hold, at minimum, one full mouthful of liquid. I have yet to find a spork fitting this simple solitary guideline.

2) The spork is not a fork! To be classified as a fork, a utensil should have, at minimum, three full tines long enough stab a nice cut of steak through to the plate below. Sporks typically have two tines with a total length of 5.6 picometers. Clearly, not up to the measure a fork.

Finally, the true evil of the spork lies in the twisted irony in it's construction and packaging. The protective plastic wrapping is usually of stronger constitution than the utensil itself, resulting in more frustration from opening the wrapper than having to eat most your meal with your hands or a three inch plastic stick because it broke in half.

Truly this is a product born of evil imagination and propagated by the minions of hell. Flee from it with all due hast. Run.

80 minutes of civic duty...

What are you waiting on? Go vote... Coleman did. Straight Fisher-Price Party ticket...

hay rides and hay fever don't mix...

unexpected shutter click...

no babies in the kitchen...

there is weakness in our strength...

It amazes me how something so delicate can have the power of flight. I wanna fly. Why can't I fly? Why didn't God give me colorful, gossamer wings? Hmm... gossamer. http://m-w.com >> 'gossamer' >> gossamer[2,adjective] >> Main Entry: extremely light, delicate, or tenuous...

Ok, so in order to fly, I have to be brittle. That sucks. Thinking back, the reason I could hold a beautiful butterfly in my hands long enough to take several photographs was probably because its short life was nearly over. It is the fall and they don't live that long. Would I trade long life for flight? Is that what's required?

In reality, very few creatures that can fly live very long. A few of the larger birds do: some parrots, eagles, hawks, and such... But there's still the issue of fragility. A bird can fly because its bones are hollow, not because it has some great power. Butterflies fly because they are light and brittle.

Superman could fly though. That's the kind of flight I want. To be full of strength and invulnerability and still leap into the air and fly around. But Superman is fiction. And it seems even Superman's life can be too short. I think I'll be satisfied to keep my feet firmly planted.

two'fer tuesday: back to nature...

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a picture of 32...

I had every intention of writing a nice long disertation on the meaning of life and what it means to be another year older. But you know what? It's just life. I was the same Sunday as I was Saturday. Nothing magical happend. I didn't gain sudden, and much needed, wisdom. I didn't move up into a new marketing demographic. I could already vote or buy alcohol. I don't feel any different. I don't look any different. When the clock struck 12, I did not turn into a pumpkin. Nothing happened. Nothing changed. Just one more click on the dial. One more trip 'round the sun. Just one more day to thank God that everything was the same as it was when I laid my head on the pillow the night before.

So, sorry. I have nothing exciting for you today. Guess Space Monkey's gonna stop reading my site, too... *sigh*

pulling one from the archives...

super two'fer tuesday anniversary guest photographer special...

With my own birthday approaching swiftly on the calendar, I realized that last month we missed an important anniversary here in the kudzu. Early last September was the first installment of the Two'fer Tuesday Photo Contest. Appropriately enough it ended in an 8-8 tie. Last December, during the two week blogvacation I took when Coleman was born, I decided to bring in a couple of guest photographers to keep the Tuesdays two'fered. Since then, seven lovely people have been kind enough to share their photography skills with us.

Tonight it's time to honor these folks and their beautiful photos. Here is the photo from each photographer which recieved the highest number of votes. In the comments, please vote for the guest photographer photo of the year. While your at it, visit their sites, take a peek at some of their other work, and leave them a big kudzu-styled "thank you."

1

ten months old today...

I"m running late on the two'fer this week... Sorry...

To hold you over, here are a few photos from Coleman's tenth month...

all aboard the orbiter...