the eye's have it . . .

Katie asked us to come up and check out the used digital Canon Rebel XT she found before she made the actual purchase. It turned out to be a brand new body and I donated my old 28/200 lens to the cause. She has a great eye. It was time for her to make the leap to an SLR. This shot she took last summer is amazing when full size. You can see every drop of water on the quill.

Then just to prove she is her mother's child, she sends me this.

Yep, she will forever be glued to her camera, which will make for some interesting pictures come Christmas morning, especially since now Frank wants a digital SLR. We will look like a family of transformers with robo-eyes . . . Ut oh.

On a side note, I had made and delivered a double batch of chocolate chips cookies. I guess they were an anomaly. One of her friends was delighted when she discovered they were homemade.

Poor Luther . . .

I used to be quirky. I love quirky folk. They live to their own beat. They see with different eyes. They can open new worlds if you'd just pay attention. A prime example is an old friend from college. She just published her second book. Lately by Sara Pritchard. A great read. I loved her first, Crackpots. Her passages read like memories floating just below the surface that come alive with the swish of her pen. There is one description of the contents of an old medicine cabinet and I wondered how she knew what was in ours growing up in the 50's. I love what she evokes. I highly recommend both books. They will indeed open new worlds.

But sometimes, quirky slides over into bizarre. We have one such sliding neighbor. They do exorcisms in the driveway. These rituals always come as a surprise, like this evening: the cacophony, the rhetoric. I am always taken aback. On one such occasion, they were beckoning the devil to come forth from some poor soul via cell phone. It is hard to ignore, even with the windows shut and the air running. Over and over they beseeched the devil to loosen his grip. Then finally, "Get thee Luther, out of this man's soul." That was it. I cracked up. I seriously debated opening the door and yelling back, I think you might have meant "Lucifer."

So where is the line for you? What sneaks from wonderful whimsy to just plain weird in your world?

prehistoric leftovers . . .

we got home yesterday afternoon from the hospital and sat Joe down on one kitchen chair next to the sliders with his foot propped up in another. To make a very long story short, we were looking for tile at Lowe's when a huge package of tiles hopped off a shelf and smooshed four toes on his left foot. OWIE!!!! So while Jackie is adjusting ice packs and the cast is hardening, he looks around and spies yet another beastie in our backyard zoo. Meet Mr. O. Possum.
Now I know if you can't say anything nice, you're supposed to say nothing at all, but I can't help it. This beastie has little appeal. He really looks like a relic from a time gone by. And to make matters worse, he was out in broad daylight, loping around in circles. A-round and a-round and a-round. Pretty odd behavior for he who is supposed to be nocturnal. So we decide to call animal control. Now if you live in a REALLY small town and it is after 5:00, you just ring up the warden at home and over he comes, wiping the last remnants of his dinner from the corner of his mouth. Or if you live in a REALLY big town, they work in shifts and someone is always available. But if you live in Goldilocks' town you get an answering machine advising you to leave a message and someone will call you back . . . maybe. REALLY! No matter, Mr. O. Possum finally lopes himself back into the wood. And, well, on closer inspection, if you ignore the rows of sharp looking chompers, he is rather cute and endearing.

my new kitchen . . .

My brother and sister-in-law called to say they were coming up to see the Martha Stewart house we loved. As I danced around, showing off the house as if I owned it, I couldn't tear myself away from the kitchen, I am fascinated with the whiteness of it all. The floor is 18x18 slabs of black slate, black granite counters, white everything else including the white subway tile as a back splash.

Of course this shot doesn't show the glass fronted pantry, or the french sink work area off to the left with the white wooden shade covered windows. But it has me drooling especially since walking into my kitchen is like entering Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater's home. I got a tad carried away with the terracotta. Ugh. My white tile floor is now chipped from my clumsy fingers dropping cans of Lindsey's Black Olives, or Great Northern Navy Beans oh and the cast iron pot I've had since college. Not to mention the grout that I think I remember once upon a time being white. Or maybe that was someone else's house. My grout is anything but white. So my brain is spinning. If we replaced the white tile with black slate, painted all the cabinets white, did the tile back splash, ta da . . . I'd have my own version. I mean, I already have the black granite counter tops, black stove and black dishwasher. The fridge is white and terracotta, oh wait, that is rust. It will be replaced by a new black french door fridge. Take that Martha Stewart. I am giddy again. Oh and just for the drama of it all, this is the hall entrance to the house taken from the back forward.

You could bowl down that, play hopscotch, roller skate . . . unlimited possibilities!

Hey, Katie, remember these???

The pictures of you getting your hair done by Will.I.Am have been on my desk for, well, gee, this is 2007? Then I guess YEARS. I finally got around to doing something with them. Remember the red tips??? Now who dyed their hair first!!!! Ha! OK, being evil there. Look how gorgeous you are and always were. Love you!!!

p.s. Kelli, see what else you can do with your Bind-it-all!

The Good Samaritan . . .

Frank and I took off after our usual Saturday lunch out, for one of our favorite activities . . . new house snooping. Do we intend to buy . . . nooooooooooooooo? But we love looking. This week we were headed to the new Martha Stewart design houses going up a couple of miles from us. You have to wonder what Martha is doing in our corner of the world. Anyway, they have three models showing. Two were so so and of course I fell in love with the middle one. OMG, slate floors, crown molding on top of crown molding, white bead board, french sink, columns (Frank hated the columns), the house was gorgeous. Whew! I could move right in . . . that's right, me the non-Stewart fan. So I went semi dressed, well I mean for me. White Capri's, white camisole, lavender over blouse. We left there and I convinced Frank he needed a cup of java for the road. No matter that the coffee house is part of a scrapbook store. So he settles in, coffee in hand and the football game on while I wander around picking out more paper . . . like I need paper. We finally leave and head out onto the four lane highway when I spy a turtle in distress. The poor guy is trying to cross the busy road just as it leads onto the interstate. I yell to Frank to pull over and rush out of the car to grab Yertle. Well Yertle doesn't want to be grabbed and now I am hot footing it around major congestion, trying to grab him to save his silly neck. I finally get a grasp on the sucker and realize he is full of slime, unhappy being elevated and thoroughly ticked off at me. I dodged his fat little CLAWED feet but when the head pops out and makes a whooshing snap noise, I realize this is no box turtle, it's a flipping snapper. A darned good sized snapper and it wants me . . . bad!!! So I scurried off to the side of the road trying to figure out who wants me to let go of him more, him or me. It is a moot question as the snap, snap, snap cuts a breeze past the index finger on my left hand and I have no desire to repeat my run in with the wood stork. I let go and he slip slides his way down into the drainage pond from whence I assume he came. I head back to the car with my slimy muddy Yertle hands and white clothing, hoping Frank has a napkin. Nope, we have nothing. And we still need to head to Publix for milk and shrimp. Now you understand why I love my cave????

Ferdinand the bull . . .

Stacie bought me some beautiful flowers for my birthday. She knows!!! Last night one of the blooms was so stunning, I had to capture it. I wish I could take better pictures but I think you can see the pollen laying on the petals. Just gorgeous.

But if I pan out a bit, you will see that I am not the only one enjoying the view. I love watching the world through their very curious eyes!!