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Waiting….
For you.
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The feels
Not sure how I feel actually. Sucks but there are worse things in life. Like biting your tongue. Paper cuts. Death. So no big deal I was surprisingly calm. Ya get your week old car ran into and you should be mad. But I’m not. The end of summer car meet. A trip of 200 or so going up to Mt. Evans. To see the sunset from there is quite the site I’m told. It didn’t happen today I blessed Wallas shortly after I got it with the same cruse. But it was in the dark and I didn’t make it all the way up. I’m getting old. But today…
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Summer Heat
It’s been a bit warm the last few weeks. No July rain, no August rain… just sun and heat. I’m not too bothered by it. Not even sure why I’m writing… I just wanted you to see this photo. I’ll come back and edit this, maybe.
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Who’s the stinker
The best joke I ever played. Sometime ago when Blockbuster Video was still a thing I was feeling ornery. The internet was new and I spent many late nights at the campus computer lab. Finding hacking sites, bulletin boards on Star Trek, MUD rooms, the beginnings of the World Wide Web. Information was there, you just needed to know where and how to find it. Information that was once hidden now out for everyone who was looking. I came across a security ‘room’ discussion on how stores protect their inventory. You know those things that prevent you from walking out the door with what you shouldn’t be walking out the…
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They count people ya know
They just recently released census data for 1950. I went and looked, and here’s what I found: Charles F. Shriver, Jr., Head of household, White, Male, 44 years old, Married, born in Kansas, 50 hours per week as a Truck Driver, Oil field, Born of mother and father also born in USA, 10th grade was highest education, 42 weeks employed in prior year, in 1949 earned $2,500 (about $30,000 today) Winifred R. Shriver, Wife, White, Female, 43 years old, Married, born in Kansas, keeping house, no other employment Monte R. Shriver, Son, White, Male, 15 years old, never Married, born in Kansas, School boy Sandra S. Shriver, Daughter, Female, 11…
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Stranger danger
I lived in New Jersey from age 4ish to 7ish. My family moved to Colorado when I was in 2nd grade. It was the 70’s and not much was worth writing home about. It’s not an obsession but a curiosity on my part. I’ve always been fascinated by missing people, kidnapping stories, runaway…. People who disappear only to be found years later. “I know my first name is Stephen”. Shaun Hornbeck, Elizabeth Smart. And the sadder cases like Etan Patz, Adam Walsh, Johnny Gosch…. It’s all crazy. I remember a few crazy things in my life and let me share the brief details as I remember them… I was walking…
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Tolerance
As I sit and enjoy a nice red (any red will do) I’m overhearing a conversation. The table also regulars and today the debate has something to do with katsup or no katsup. In all honesty, that’s all I know…. But it reminds me of a debate long had between my Mom and Daddio. My Mom was a pretty good cook. Coming from the boy who ate nothing but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches till I was 11, that’s saying something. Anyway she made her homemade stew. Beef, vegetables and all that. Nothing out of a can. All hand cut and seasoned to perfection. Cooked on the stove for hours.…
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Just a sketch
Sometimes I try without edges, and just see what happens. Most fail horribly… this fails a bit less than horribly. So I’m posting it. Crazy methods of mine, and I don’t want to make you watch me make this, but starts out many colors in FreshPaint, then export and import as black and white, then tweak… refined, but messy. The more I do this, the more I hate ears, and noses, and lips, and chins, and eyes. Yeah, I hate it. Bonus point question, who is the subject?
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Who am I?
It’s never been a secret to me. I am adopted. I have two sisters and I am the youngest. The oldest, Paige, is adopted also. Pam the middle child was a happy accident of Mom getting pregnant. Nothing wrong with either Mom or Dad… just oil and vinegar in terms of reproductive genes. Well no one is ever 100% right. But three was the perfect number so my parents made it known that they would love a son. One call in November1969 telling them come pick up their son. I’m sure it’s way more complicated than that, but… That’s truly how I always want it to be. My Daddio tells…
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A few unrelated photographs
For whatever reason, cause there is none… Here’s some random photographs.
