Existing In BFE

Sunset I'm cleaning out my picture file so I can start some new stuff after a week off.  I found these just floating around, never posted,  and thought they were rather nice.  They were taken maybe a month ago during a sunset walk on Indian Rocks beach.   Notice how the light changed in just a few minutes between the top and bottom pictures.   It was quite dramatic.  When I was at Shawshank getting to a beach was pretty easy.  But now, up here in Bedlam it takes a major commitment to drive through a busy arterial street and maybe you will be lucky enough to find parking.  No fun.  I will say that I am wanting a beach day before I travel to Northlandia - one of those all day affairs with cooler, Bloody Mary's, a cigar or two, camera, warm water and people to look at.   Sunrise A couple of these were posted last week, I think, and I was just dumbfounded by the colors.  Glad I made it to see this one.   Some wise person said someth

A couple weeks ago I went out to the Causeway since I had not been there in a long time.   It was early morning - around 4:30 and thought I'd take the camera just in case.  Nothing much was going on, but I took these anyway.  Nothing to write home about - oh wait, I am writing home, aren't I?  Anyway, here are a couple pics I took on a lonely early morning jaunt over to a walkway over the Bay.   This is looking east from Clearwater.  That's Tampa over yonder and someday, perhaps soon I'm going to walk all the way across and back.    This is where boats are supposed to go when traveling under the walkway and the adjoining roadway. Another picture with me more than halfway across the walkway.   You may ask, "Are there other people around?"  Sometimes.  Once I was taking pictures of the sky in the morning and there were three young fishermen.  Once in a while there are walkers and occasionally a bicyclist.  Tonight there was no o

Just your typical Florida family SUV.  On the left a yuppie sticker we have all seen picturing the family members.  In the middle a Save The Turtle emblem and on the right your average family assault rifle sign. +++++++++++++++ One of my regrets is being so dependent on my Polaroid camera for years.  It was expensive to take pictures.  I now wish I'd had a film camera and taken a 100 pics a day. +++++++++++++ Nestled in the greenery on the patio at Bedlam.  Tough to tell but it is a frog. ++++++++++++ One need only look at the past couple weeks for evidence of media bias, or at the least, a kind of lop-sided slant on things.  Thirty people were killed and 100 injured by suicide bombers in Belgium and the news was wall to wall coverage for three days.  The next week seventy women and children are killed with 300 injured by a suicide bomber in Pakistani and it barely makes a ripple in the news.    ++++++++++++ Norah and I were out

In a mad dash from where I am now in Clearwater all the way down to Vinoy Park in St. Petersburg, which, according to Google maps is 14.2 miles and tales 31 minutes,  I made it just in time for this sunrise.   Something I have learned is that there is a "peak moment" to any sunrise and sunset that lasts not minutes but seconds.  A few seconds too early or a few seconds too late and the optimum time to snap is lost.   These are just three pictures within the seconds of peak beauty.  Remember, I don't have Photoshop, Lightroom or any other super-duper editing program.  It was a mad dash to get down here this Saturday morning, but well worth the effort.  These are just stunning - no kudos on my part, the camera did it.   I have more that I will post later, but I found putting 10 pictures on a page rather dilutes the magnificence of it all, so I'll give them to you in small doses.  Better to soak up nature's palette.

Rituals play an important role in the life of any entity, as well as in our personal lives.  Even the simplest of morning tasks, making coffee and reading the paper is a ritual which brings stability and continuity to our lives.  Likewise, organizational rituals.  Organizational rituals provide a forum for discussion, a welcoming of new employees into the tribe, a safe environment to express oneself, and if the boss is there, a place to establish the "why" and "therefores" to policy.   One of the rituals of our work place was to unwind on Fridays.  When I first started at MDH we met after a long week at the Whistletop, a corner bar on Simmons street in G-Burg.  A bar is still there but it is no longer called that.  I'm not sure what it is called anymore.  The owners were Fred and Norma.  He was erudite - kind of an old school bar owner who could converse on almost any subject a customer might bring up - a knowing presence.    It wasn't a fancy place, bu

Right after Norah and her Daddy made a great huge bubble, another kid took the sticks and rope and tried his hand at it.  It was a good one. It hovered, undulating majestically in mid-air and started to float. Like a poltergeist with a mind of its own, the bubble rose as if to escape the surly bonds of earth, rising in a last ditch effort to seek purchase above the fray.  But the Bubble Master, with a prescience of mind in recognizing the possible horror of an encounter with a human, rushed to pop the offending orb.   POP!! And once again, the order of the universe is restored.

Today we will finish the walk at Moccasin Lake Nature Park we started last week.  It was an uninspring place - mediocre at best compared to other parks I've been to down here.  But it wasn't without some charm.   One of the charms was this old fashioned water tower and power plant.  The place uses wind for power and the tower for its water.     Spread out over one of the trails was this plein air art group.  Personally, I would not have set up on the trail so that hikers would be gawking at my painting.  Especially when you have as little talent as what I saw walking by.  Lord, the egos painters have!    This little fellow was basking in the sunshine, no doubt feeling quite secure.  I'm sure Mama was close by somewhere hidden ready to rescue should the need arise.   And this is Moccasin Lake.  Close by is Route 19, the River of Death.   The sounds of traffic diminished the serenity of the scene. One of the many boardwal

Political press secretaries, campaign managers and surrogates do nothing but shovel BS.  When they are on TV yapping you'd be better off doing a lump exam on your testicles.   ++++++++++++++++ Word was received this week of the continual slide into oblivion of the Mary Davis Home.  They have, at present 10 kids, no cook and no programming.  When I left we averaged 35-38 kids, had 2 full time cooks and some type of program for each kid.   It seems the place has come full circle: when I first started there we averaged 10 kids, we did all the cooking.  Actually it is worse now than then, since we at least had a counseling program way back then.  Apparently the reason is funding.  Probation departments don't have the funds to place kids there, opting instead for cheaper home detention.   It is sad to see and of course, with Illinois, finding funds for such things will be hard indeed for the foreseeable future.  My sympathies to the staff: I harped endlessly about ho

My patented "wordless" posts are usually born out of laziness.  That and quite often the pictures themselves tell the story far better than my meager abilities to corral the language.  Today's post is the latter.  I can do the set-up:  at the Farmer's Market one vendor was hawking a giant bubble maker.  Two sticks and some rope.  Drew, Norah's daddy, helped her make a nice giant bubble.  One need only look at the expressions to get the whole story.     And there you have it.  A special daddy-daughter moment, captured in pictures.  How cool is that?  Thanks for stopping by.

This is a repost of a March 28, 2009 entry.  This Sunday marks the 7th anniversary of Missy's passing.  My heart was broken that day and all attempts to fix it have failed. Missy wasn't much of a dog. She was ungainly when running. It wasn't so much a run as a lopsided chugging. She also wasn't much of a looker. She had these tufts of hair coming out of her paws that made her look like some kind of canine leprechaun and her coat was a sprinkling of gray on black mixed with brown. Her tail and butt had a wispy mane that had to be cut every so often that made her look downright ridiculous. Her character also had some flaws. Her idea of adventure was a long nap. If asked to do something outside the routine she would handle the stress by relieving herself. Riding in the truck was a major emotional pull from her normalcy that evoked shivers and nervous salivating. She was a veritable spigot. I always used a towel for her to ride on, not to catch the hair but to sop

Let's finish this Market thing I went to with the family a couple weekends ago.  Nasty crowded, with all manner of things going on.   One of these days I'm going to try one of Ken's sausages.  It smells great and I do love the stuff.  They were doing a brisk business this morning. One of a few musical attractions.  The didgeridoo guy and this more traditional singer.   Bob Marley wannabe here on the accordion.  Oompah! My favorite vendor is this guy who fashions stuff out of metal.  Pretty neat stuff.  And usually reasonably priced.  But he doesn't take cards, only cash.  Who carries cash anymore? This young guy is awaiting his caricature portrait.   Cute, cute, cute. The main musical attraction at the Market.   And finally, back up in the garage to get the Hell out of that throbbing mass of people I spotted this, this, this abomination of a paint job.  Whoever thought it would be nice, eve