An inquisitive old fart with a camera
After five years, our backyard lemon tree has sprung to life.
But not without mysteries. For example, this fruit …
.. which appears to have the letter P on it. But before you crank up the synapses to explain this one, recall that your task is more difficult: because Uruguay: is that really a P or is it a 9?
I have pointed out silly little cars at outrageous prices before, but if you should be overcome with the need to shell out a lot of cash for a little Fiat …
… don’t do this to it. Please.
Since my wife posted one of my color grids over here, I thought I’d share an animated version, which, had I more imagination, might somehow find itself linked to an inspirational message about remaining true to yourself, yet adapting in what will — according to the egg-spurts — promise to be a most interesting year.
The color grid dates back to my college days, when I slaved with Prismacolor pencils, getting a few interesting results, and a lot less so. One poorly-chosen color wrecks the overall effect. 30 years later, I created a template in FreeHand, and was able to go through hundreds of iterations in the time it would take to hand-color one grid. This is from 2006.
Note the approaching “beach cops” in white, carrying white batons: “Servicio de la playa.”
5 cm in 30 minutes, and Montevideo has a little problem area to work on.
An unusually tall bank carved out of sand by the runoff in Atlántida. The dog in the distance, which is bigger than my dog in the foreground, gives better perspective.
Ah, America:
the visual jingoism of
omnipresent flapping flags.
Shiny cars, beseeching churches;
smooth roads and ads for shiny
vehicles, tank-like or claustrophobic:
sometimes both.
My people: fun to help, make laugh,
cheer along. That I can do so easily,
waitress or Walmart Greeter.
Casually conversational, easygoing,
but so must I bear
the oppressive banality
of overheard conversations.
And not indulge intellect, perception,
nor reveal observation, awareness.
My son says they’re stupid:
given two days, I cannot disagree.
Triscuits, flavor rosemary
and olive oil; cheese a combo:
monterrey jack and cheddar.
Chardonnays not Southern Cone:
cheap good California Barefoot;
Onduraga from Oz. Not special,
just not Southern Cone.
In the hotel, we offer to leave
carry-on unfriendly corkscrew
for future guests. Two wine glasses and
real — not-plastic — knife appear
to carry upstairs
for our evening snack.
(from November 2014)
We threw an old, very heavy, very hard squash into one of the overgrown raised beds long ago. I went to remove it today, only to discover it’s light as a a feather and …
… it lives!