Saturday, June 18, 2016

Birthday for Batman

Or rather, Batman for a friend's birthday! Here he is!


Perhaps not the Batman you were expecting! I'll fool ya every time!

And here's some photos.


These ones were taken from the car.


Here are the peonies. I like 'em best when they're like this.


The buds make such perfect little round balls!


But then they have to go ruin it all by blooming...



What kind of color is this?? There wasn't one like that last year! PRETTY FISHY.


Tee hee
hee hee

We're off to a great start on the summer fishing, as you can plainly see!

Here's more sky!




Mushrooms!



And...


Here are Panda Paws and Zipper, Buckle the Clown. (Yes that comma goes there. His name is a direct address imperative sentence.) They came from a Memorial Day garage sale! Do I have the BEST LUCK IN THE WORLD OR WHAT!

Saturday, June 4, 2016

Snake time

Here's my re-imagining of Genesis 3:15


"He shall strike at your head, and you shall strike at his heel."

Because if 'strike at' means 'hit' and 'bite' respectively, in this context, I figured one could switch 'em around.

Speaking of, Dad found this lil fella in the ditch the other day.


I dunno what this kind is really called. I call 'em red bellied snakes. Here, see,

 
A pink tummy. 

It sure is nice to know that there are no venomous snakes in northern Minnesota, as apposed to Houston, where they have ALL FOUR TYPES OF VENOMOUS SNAKE FOUND IN NORTH AMERICA.

Friday, June 3, 2016

Noir nostalgia

In my last year of highschool, they asked all the seniors to write testimonial letters for the yearbook. I imagine what they had in mind were tear-stained farewells of glowing happiness and accomplishment, filled with sentiment and love and stuff. I had... other plans. I like to think that my testimonial letter is why the yearbook never ended up being published that year, rather than sloppy administrative laziness. But owing to the fact that it wasn't, this never saw the light of day, until I found it on my parents' computer while visiting last Easter! Here it is!



When I think of the dusty Holy House file on my desk, all I see are the block caps reading ‘UNSOLVED’ that still dog my footsteps and bring a bad taste to my mouth.  Of course, that might just be the cheap, watered-down whisky that always seems to be the best I can afford.  You meet a lot of bad apples on this job, but I’ve never seen a worse load of saps than the palookas that tried to muscle in on that case: organized crime, wailing dames, two-bit lotharios, you name it.  I’ve been on the receiving end of more than my fair share of back-stabs and dealt out a few of my own.  It’s probably just sentimentality that kept me from being happy to leave that train-wreck, or maybe it’s for all the buddies I lost along the way.  Some of ‘em relocated when things went south, others tried to tough it out.  You can imagine what happened to them.  My good buddy Mr. D ain’t been seen since that last winter.  They say his “health” took a turn for the worse. 
By the time I hung up the case, I’d run out of all my old enthusiasm for the job.  This was a mess for younger, less jaded people to sort through.  Too bad we haven’t got any of those left.  As the sun set over this old city skyline on the final day of the Holy House case, I considered what I’d be leaving behind.  I had plenty of fond memories of the days past, and probably just as many foul ones.  I learned a lot about the world, and about people.  So in the end, I closed the case with as few regrets as I could.  I don’t think I’ll open it again.  

__________

I HIGHLY doubt any of the other seniors wrote anything HALF so fine!

And here's some photos.

   
Irises in Dad's garden

  
Here's the cat climbing straight up the screen door!

  
She's gone bananas!

And here's the bad news...

  
Know who this lil' guy is? This is an army worm. There's always some of 'em in the summer, but every so often you get a year where you're o'errun with 'em. (They say it's every seven years, but since the only time I've ever seen it happen was in '01, I'm disinclined to hold to numerics on this.)

This year, it seems, may just be one such year.

  
If this is the last you hear from me, assume I was eaten by these worms.