In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Happy Place.”
I’m happy in a lot of different places, as most people are. Most especially, the ocean, the mountains, lakeside and a newly discovered dirt road.
What these locations hold in common for me though is simple.
They are Mother Nature’s dance halls.
Nothing makes me happier than when I can catch Mother doing a good old fashioned Boogie Down!
Please enjoy
Such is… Love in the Afternoon!Dining AloneDinner for TwoFamily’s Night OutCheck Please! Whatever their dining pleasure, it’s all part of… “The Dinner Dance”The proposalIn the SwimGetting comfy“HEY! Do. You. Mind?!” It’s Turtle Time
Photo Challenges. Before this week, I didn’t know they existed. Since then, it’s become almost a full time job…one that doesn’t pay a cent…but I love it anyway!
In and around Canterbury Cathedral, man made his mark: In and around rivers and oceans, man made his mark: In and around our everyday lives, man made his mark (and a good thing too!):
I’m having fun following my newest and most wonderful blogging friend – MLou’s Photography Blog – and for a bit of Tuesday fun, I’ve seen that she enjoys posting in what is called “Tuesdays of Texture” as hosted by Narami at De Monte Y Mar
I wanted to join in on this one as it gives us a chance to look at photos from a different perspective…how they feel vs how they look. I dig it!
Here are some of mine, but I tell ya, it was hard to choose becasue there are…
So Many Textures – So Little Time!
please, feel free to click on the gallery for full size images 🙂
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Boundaries.”
We must teach them to children…for their own goodWe must take care with those that we allow to cross ours…Respect them in others…for their sake as well as ours (there is a glass boundary here you can bet your life!)Some come and go with the tide…Some are foreverWhether man made…Or by design…We need them…If only to cross them
A stanza from The Boxer keeps running through my head…
In the clearing stands a boxer,
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev’ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains
Yes. Yes he does.
And this naturally, takes me to The Sounds of Silence…
Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted
In my brain still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light that split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share and no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
Fools said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the signs said, ‘The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls and tenement halls’
And whispered in the sounds of silence
After 3 weeks, I leave the Great Frozen North (a.k.a. The Northeast Kingdom) Friday, on the journey south to reclaim Mini Me and head home to Virginia on Saturday.
The hotel room near the dealership is booked so I can arrive at the service door bright and early Saturday morning to pick her up.
Speaking of the dealership…I was in contact with them today, as I had asked them to do an ‘extended’ test drive to make sure she was sound, knowing I was leaving for Virginia directly from picking her up.
Word back from the Wrench Wench was…
“The test drive went really well, the Mini’s purring, but one of her high beams is out.”
“Which one?” I ask
“Driver’s side high beam” she replies
“Really? I had that replaced in July” I remind her, since she has all the service records.
“Maybe the other dealership used an aftermarket bulb” suggested she.
“Not sure what you mean by aftermarket bulb Marissa. Last I checked, the bulbs were not MINI specific. As far as I can tell from the receipt, they installed a Sylvania 9008, which seems to be the standard.”
“Do you want us to fix it? If you do, I can order the bulb today and it will be here tomorrow.”
“Order it? You don’t HAVE one? What would that cost me Marissa?”
“$78.96”
“To replace a bulb????”
“The cost of the bulb is $13.96 plus tax. Labor to install is $69.13. And, if you had it replaced at a dealership last time, maybe they would offer a warranty on the bulb?”
“Marissa, the cost to replace that same bulb in July was $36 complete. I think charging $69 just to install a bulb is MORE than UNREASONABLE! I’m not sure why your quote is so high, but would appreciate if you could work with me on the price (not to mention, between me and the warranty company, you just got paid 8,600 bucks!”
” I can’t really speak for other dealer’s pricing. All dealerships vary around the country usually because of state differences.”
“Well, I think I’ll pass on your installing a replacement bulb and I’ll take care of it when I get home.”
Sing along with me?
I dream of Mini with the bright gold lights…
Yeah, you’d think so wouldn’t you?
I’m really not convinced this entire scenario would have played out the same way had I, been a bloke and not a sheila.
Even a sheila as mouthy as me.
Who’s to know for sure.
All I do know, is that come Saturday morning…I’m back behind the wheel, headed home.
And depending on how fast I dare to drive until I know Mini Me is with me or against me…
14 or so hours later (I’m taking the road less traveled home), I’ll be in my own bed, snugglin’ with my Sadie, and scratching my husband.
Really?
Oh wait…In my own bed, scratching my Sadie and snugglin’ my husband.
Either way…I’ll be at a Ford dealership the day after.
Grab a bowl of warm can o’ worm stew off the stove, and please make sure you only take what you can eat…there is plenty, but we want everyone to get their fair share. Yum! Oh, and there’s some (Canadian) almost-beer in the cooler to choke it down with. (You’re welcome NB) Then pull up your favorite soap-opera-watching-tv-chair ’cause we’re ready to go.
As we return to our saga…we are about to enter the Final Act, which, you’ll recall, has been referred to as the “then shit REALLY got interesting” act. This is an act of more than one part…so we’ll begin with part I:
After months of searching and a dozen or more unanswered emails and phone calls, as well as the same amount saying they’d love to help but they don’t service our area, I finally found a moving company to pack us, load us, and deliver us from evil….I mean from the north.
I did my due diligence, checked BBB (a couple of issues, but nothing unresolved), checked previous client testimonials (no red flags there), did a background check on the owner, who seemed a long-standing professional in her field. Though I’d never heard of them, they were a national mover, based in Florida, but serviced more than their fair share of relocations from the northeast.
Cool. And. Phew.
I mean, we were right down to the wire and I was so thrilled to have the worst of the moving process settled..someone to pack the stuff, load the stuff, and deliver the stuff. Not cheap, but not out of line with the current industry rates either.
Happy 😆
Moving day is here! YAY
Zero degrees outside and I know once they are here the heat will go off because the door will be open, but so what? I am so excited it’s finally happening that I don’t care. Coats, scarves, gloves inside? Psshaw…nothing to it.
I’d spent the previous two days making sure all was ready for them. Nothing on the walls, soft goods tucked neatly in drawers, like items all in one place, kitchen gadgets and little bits placed in baggies for easy packing, all important papers and cables, etc. boxed and in my car, bottled water aplenty, toilet paper left on the holder for those special moments…what more could I ask for. I was breathing easy and actually looking forward to the crew’s arrival…
Promptly at 9am
No – slightly late at 11am
Whoops – damned late at 1:30pm
Shit – you’re so damned late why bother showing up at all friggin’ late at 2:30pm. (And they show up in a truck too small by half and already half full!)
Says the husband:
“No fucking way will our stuff fit in THAT!”
Says the wife:
“Now, now Dear (teehee, not really), let’s give them the benefit of the doubt. You know how movers are…they can fit 50 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag. It’s an art!”
Says the diver: (at least this is what we think he said)
“Slept late, so sorry. Phone didn’t work, please excuse. Needed to stop and buy work boots, so glad we passed a Wal-Mart on the way here.”
Husband 😡
Wife 🙄
Driver 😯
Uh Huh. Okay then, daylight’s at a premium up here in the Northeast Kingdom this time of year, so they best get cracking if anything was to be done with what was left of the day (which, as it turned out for them, was about 4 hours, the last 3 of which were in the dark! More on this in Part II).
Time to get rolling on the process, the paperwork, and to get the crew working on bringing in boxes and packing material.
We get the process explanation (sorta); no sign of the crew.
We get the paperwork and the explanation of that (sorta); no sign of the crew.
We get frustrated with the back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, due to a language/communication problem (sorta); still no sign of the crew.
Husband 👿
Wife 😕
Driver 😯
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, seems the driver had told his two-man-crew to stay put while he got the paperwork done (one hour and one translator later). We are now at 3 dark thirty, which is fine for packing inside, but shit for loading a truck with overhead lights blocked by the previously loaded job. By damn-ass-dark thirty, an hour later still, all that had been accomplished was bringing boxes and ‘some’ packing material inside rendering what little floor space left, utterly useless.
Hmmm, where to find room to tape these boxes together. Hmmm, I know, let’s not worry about that now. Let’s start wrapping some furniture and taking it out to the truck. Yes…let’s do that. Let’s fill the nooks and crannies usually filled in nicely with boxes with MY FURNITURE instead because you can’t get to your job on time, can’t get your crew working without your paperwork being done, you can’t speak English, and can’t get your head out of your ass long enough to see it’s FUCKING PITCH BLACK OUT THERE!
long ago and far far away, in the beginning of a dark and stormy night, it was love at first sight…then shit REALLY got interesting!
2014 The new year’s babe came roaring into existence dragging what was left of her meaner older brother 2013 by the roots of his dead gray short hairs
I had hoped to see the end of The Year That Almost Totally Sucked Ass (T.Y.T.A.T.S.A.) around the same time I saw Massachusetts in the rear view mirror
Seems Ol’ 13 had other ideas. Seems Ol’ 13 wasn’t quite ready to belt out Auld Lang Syne And it’s obvious good Ol’ 13 conned his newborn kid sister into taking him along to continue the never-ending days of madness and mayhem
No way was he going out like a lamb If he was anything at all, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing And determined to stick around for the final act he called
“Wanna see the crazy old crow lose her mind?”
WHAT’S HAPPENING? (shades of poltergeist…at the 2.08 mark to be exact!)
My enthusiastic and optimistic return to enthusiastic and optimistic blogging in March of T.Y.T.A.T.S.A., has not gone quite as I had planned. Then again, how does one plan life anyway.
I won’t recount the entire war, as I have already shared a few of the bloodier battles here already.
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