Last post was a week until… This post is a week gone since… In the blink of an eye it’s over * Last post I showed you where… This post I’m showing you why… In the click of a button it’s forever
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1.) Human Fun & Games
(Hover over photo or click on it for captions)
His and Hers
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2.) Nature Au Naturale
“Will ya looky there Junior…them’s called bipeds. If’n it t’were huntin’ season, I’d show ya how to cook ’em real good in lots o’butter!”“Hey Ground Walker! Can’t you read?? You can’t park here! Just look at ’em Ralph…think they own the joint!’“STOP THAT I SAID!!!”“Good grief, can’t fly ANYWHERE around you bitches!”“Oooooh, look at that jet Pops!”“That ain’t no jet kids…that’s your cousin George”“Ma? Where ya going Ma?”“Louise, get back here!”“No worries Pops…I’ll get her.”“Jeez Louise…can’t a fella visit his relatives?”“Hey Georgie…you can come visit me. I’m free as a bird tonight. Dinner?”“Whassat? Let me just clean my ears, thought you invited me to dinner.”“Well, alrighty then! I’ll just hop, skip, and a….…juuuuuuuump on over sweet thang!”Random man / bird fly byRandom man caused fly away“I AM…’nuff said”“Oh he’s SUCH a show off!”“Hey…if I got it flaunt it right?”One…Two…Three…Dinner!”“Really? He’s this desperate? I’m BAIT not dinner! The bird brain!!”heeheeheeHeeeeey……..…that tickled ma belly!“I don’t get the whole beach thing Dorrie, do you?”“No, me either Handsome. Why hang out in all that sandy muck when you can lounge around with me surrounded by all this love stuff?”“Gee, I wonder if he’s noticed I’ve picked out the wedding bouquets? Oh Handsooooome? Wanna play Peek a Love-Dove?”“Handsome? Handsome? Hmmmm, I guess he noticed…that CHICKEN!”
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3.) Art…Is Where You Feel It
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Fa Dayz
The Serenade
Dune Seating
Local art by Man
Lone Daff
It doesn’t just collect dust!
Doo Dads
Art of a different hue
Whatchamacallits
Plucked from the OK Coral
It tries
A Tree with a Yeow
Lap of Lux
Local art by Arachnid
The famous Yellow Rope Fish
Sea for Two
Lost in the Sand
The Shell Game
I’ll leave the light on for ya
Sharp Dresser
Sun Kissed
Picnic Poles
Hammock Prone
Sea for Two
Pole Dancing
Center Stage
Could he – Wood he?
Shellmates
50 Shades of Grey
Crabby
Brushed Off
I don’t give a Twig
Mission Scrubbed
Stark Contrast
Like I said…Art is where you feel it
* Thanks for coming along…I do hope you enjoyed.
Next time it’s sand and surf, then worshiping the heavens
Yes, I confess.
By the time I was 3, I was hooked on the ol’ brew.
(And, apparently, I passed that on to my eldest. Though, I preferred a bottle)
Observez Vous…
Gee, thanks Mom!
Actually, I was more hooked on Dad…I was his toddlin’ sidekick in mighty whitey tights! Anything he did, I wanted to do. Anywhere he was, I wanted to be. Not so unusual for little girls to consider their Dads their first love and first superhero.
Always ready to catch me
There again too…I guess boys are of the same mind. Like father like sons?
You betcha!
This is how the story goes…
Once upon a time, in a little town far, far away, there was a little girl who lived with her father, mother, and 3 brothers. That’s her below…the twinklin’ toddler in her mighty whities…
Her father was a hard-working man; working 2, sometimes 3 jobs to make ends meet. And her Mother was not your ‘typical for the times’ housewife either.
Isn’t she pretty?
Because, busy as she was, having had 4 kids in 5 years, she still held a full-time job outside the home.
But, this was also a time when families lived close together, daycare centers were non-existent, and family was relied upon to pitch in where they could. (Glad it was you, Gram)
Now, seeing as these were hard-working folk, what little free time there was, was catch-up time, family time, friends time. Picnic parties, horseshoes, reunions, celebrations…but all the time, busy!
But…let’s not forget the biggie…working on cars in the yard.
That all-american male’s favorite pastime. Grease-monkeyin’ in the driveway.
Am I right?
So anyway, this is how a toddlin’ sidekick to her Daddy’s Superman, gets her tights in a twist…
A typical weekend afternoon, circa 1963…
The boys tinkerin’ in the driveway with the women folk fixin’ victuals and watchin’ babies inside. A regular tune ‘er up, tink’er up, smoke’em up, drink’em up, Sa’day afternoon. Rev her up..sounds good! Close her up…hit the dirt for a test run. No need for cleanin’up, we’re comin’ right back.
Ya with me? Good.
To continue…
The boys are gone. The women are inside with (8 of the usual 9) the kids. One smarty pants little toddler decided she missed her Daddy and went outside looking for him. She calls for him. No answer. She can’t see him. But wait…there…in the driveway. “What’s that?” she wonders in her terrible-three tiny little brain. “Can it be?” she asks herself “Why, I think it’s a Daddy bottle and ooooooh, he left it for me!” silently gigglin in delight she was “I love a good Daddy bottle. It’s so much more yummy than my ucky ol’ boring one.” she hmmphs at the thought. She looks around. No one. She listens keenly for any sound that would suggest Mommy was coming to take her Daddy bottle away. Nothing. “Yay” she thinks as she’s already on the move, toddlin’ toward that dark brown delight she knows is filled with liquid gold. She stretches those short and chubbies just far enough to grab the neck of that father-forgotten treasure, tips it to her lips like the bottle pro she is…and chug-a-lugs.
That was the last thing I remember prior to waking up in the hospital God knows how much time later.
You see, the brew I knew and thought of as Dad’s liquid gold, was what I now call, liquid fire.
As was the custom then…and I’ve seen it again and again in the years since…these man-boys would use beer bottles as containers for gasoline when working on their carburetors. They were always plentiful, usually empty, so why buy a gas can when a beer bottle will do?
Exactly! Logic boys….logic!
The madness that followed can quite easily be imagined…and remember, this was an itsy bitsy town.
I don’t remember much of the ensuing chaos…but have heard the details often.
The boys returned to find my Mother holding me in a panic. No other vehicle. No hospital nor ambulance within 8 miles and 13 minutes (rural roads ya know). And a non-breathing child turning colors no human should be. Parents and me in the car. Dad driving hell-bent for leather, Mom holding me. My head out the window like a dog. I do remember being told NOT to throw up. I do remember having zero conscious thoughts at this time. Arrive at the hospital alive, though I was told I didn’t take a single breath, as well as my Mother being told that it’s a miracle I didn’t vomit, for that would have been the end of my life as I knew it. I do remember too, waking in a crib-bed with a top (?), like a cage, feeling trapped. But, when I could, I remember looking out the window and seeing my Memere’s house and it made me feel better.
Now, all of us that are parents, know this irrefutable fact:
You CANNOT turn you back on a toddler EVER. Even for a second. Because one second is one second TOO LONG!
A friend in need…
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