Fear Not

You gain strength, courage, and confidence
by every experience
in which you really stop
to look fear in the face.

Eleanor Roosevelt

It's Not Polite To Point

Sun Scene

Good Old Summer Time

Nostalgia :a wistful or sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition.

Went to the County Fair today. A summer-time tradition.

Found a whole new world.

Paved. Air-Conditioned. Clean.

Unlike the Old Days, when we got sweaty and dusty, and so hot we'd accept ice water from Baptists.

After multi-million dollar improvements to the Fairgrounds, my local County Fair looks like an Americana exhibit at Disneyland.

Bird Watching

Second hike into the wilderness for the grant-funded photography show.

Watch the Night Sky

Watched the International Space Station streak by last night.

There's something primal about staring into the sky.

Head tipped back, far as possible.

Watching.

Seeing.

Wondering.

Story is here.

They Let It Burn

Went on the first hike for my grant-sponsored photography show.

Discovered hiking through burned forest is depressing.

Found myself photographing flowering weeds.

When a distinguished but elderly scientist
states that something is possible,
he is almost certainly right.
When he states that
something is impossible,
he is very probably wrong.

Arthur C. Clarke

Public Enemy #1

Shop 'til You Expire

I would rather be tortured by terrorists than shop for bras.

Sunday, when approached by one of those paragons of virtue, the bra-fitting-specialist saleswoman, I politely said, I'm just looking.

She replied, "A lot of ladies I've fit, are very happy with this one," and hands me a brassiere that would fit GODZILLA.

I did not say, honey, I've been picking out my own bras since before you wet your first diaper, because it was Sunday. Peace on Earth, Goodwill and all that. Instead I said, that's nice, and turned back to the rack.

She, clears her throat, and says, "Is that your size?"

I replied, through clenched teeth, I DON'T WANT ANY HELP, THANK-YOU.

I didn't think I needed to explain to her, that before I get to the Clydesdales, I like to pet the ponies.

She retreated, muttering that she just wanted to help me get the right fit. I expect to be nominated for sainthood for not strangling her with a wirefree, tricot-lined, flesh-toned undergarment right there in the bra department of Macy's.

I eventually made it to the correct aisle, because while ponies are nice, if you need to haul a load ...

Tis the Season

More good news - here.
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