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My vintage Remco Finger Dings arrived today. L-R Millie Mod, Betty Ballerina and Sally Ice Skater.
They're so cute!!! My fingers just fit in their legs haha
I'm not gonna lie: I've enjoyed taking the Flickr app off my phone and not feeling the pressure of trying to constantly keep up on my feed. But, I've quietly checked in at times on my laptop, favorited a few photos here and there, and then gone back to great times with the family amidst a busy season at work.
But, on the flipside, I always figured I'd post something again at some point. It was just a matter of feeling inspired to do so.
Well, that inspiration has come from two, whirlwind trips to Western New York. With me having a work-related meeting on Saturday, October 1st, followed by plans to spend the balance of the weekend doing a brief, overnight railroad photography trip with a couple old chase buddies, my wife wisely decided it was a good time to head up to Potsdam with our 4-year-old son to visit her parents for a long weekend.
With my wife and son planning to leave Thursday morning, I realized I had an unusual chance to make a quick, two-day trip before getting home in time to go to my work-related meeting on Saturday morning. A last-minute check with an old friend from seminary who lives in East Rochester, I confirmed I had a place to crash Thursday night.
So, after seeing my wife and son off on Thursday morning, I was headed west. The ultimate goal? The Falls Road out of Lockport, NY, which was a bucket list item I wanted to check. Unfortunately--thanks to CSX not dropping for them--all they did on Friday was spot cars in the yard with their RS-32 facing long-hood forward. Definitely a bummer.
What saved the trip, though, was cleaning up on the Finger Lakes Railway. I've done a little with the Finger Lakes before (including having the chance to ride a good portion of the railroad in a speeder on a NARCOA trip years ago), but I always wanted to do more. Well, this trip provided the chance.
While Friday the Finger Lakes was the backup plan, on Thursday it was the plan on the way out. I knew that Train GC-2 worked the Canandaigua line on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I also knew it generally ran against the light with leaving Geneva westbound in the morning and returning eastbound in the afternoon. But, the line turns back south on its approach to Geneva, so I figured there'd be an angle or two.
I found the eastbound return train just east of the Village of Phelps, and boy was I happy to see what the power was: Lehigh Valley-inspired U23B #2201! After getting an OK shot at one crossing, I found this spot with perfect side light just after the Carter Road grade crossing in the Town of Phelps. After quietly walking back to the car, once inside I assure you there was some celebrating!
FGLK Train GC-2
Phelps, NY
September 29, 2022
ODC-Heavenly
The Flickr Lounge-Photographer's Choice
I took this early this morning and wow is it cold out there. Only 21'F. Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning! Are we in for more snow?
Abandoned quarry in Valle dell'Orco, Italy.
Canon 6d & Samyang 14mm f/2.8
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Taken Apr, 08, 2011. Sun-rays or like some call the fingers
of God's hand. What ever you want to call this sight. When
you see one, be thankful...
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Daughter finally got brave enough to hold this cool looking bug which seemed to enjoy being perched on her finger and soaking up the sun. :D
Sculpture in bronze by Johan Jorna (Barradeel 1930), a statue for Hans Brinker or The Silver Skates (1865) a book written by Mary Mapes Dodge (1831-1905) about a boy who saved the country from flooding by putting his finger in a hole in the dike.
fotowedstrijd Friesland Holland 2017
P1040479k
Group of drawings on paper as a part of larger series, for my upcoming exhibition at Thienny Lee Gallery in Sydney. Hahnemuhle paper, 78 x 54cm. www.singulart.com/en/artist/tony-belobrajdic-10927
I use the finger toys to play games with Zorie. They are very interesting not only for Zorie but for me:D
Come le dita di una mano scheletrica, questi rami emergono dalle acque verdi delle sorgenti del fiume Livenza.
Friuli, Pordenone
#livenza #wood #legno #acqua #water #tronchi #finger #dita #polcenigo
Do you have to pry your fingers open to loosen your grip on life?
(Bo Carpelan 1984, my translation from Swedish)
What with fingers periodically going dead, and sometimes chilblain on my toes, I say roll on SPRING!!!! And that's with it being mild recently!
Happy to report all 3 fingers have since returned to life!
A little throwback to 2007...we see a group of folks waiting to board a Finger Lakes Railway excursion train from Penn Yan to Watkins Glen, NY.
The dull glow of a few dozen screens, both television and computer, blare down their light on a figure sitting calmly in the observation room of Belle-Reve. His fingers type rapidly at the keyboard in front of him. Various external hard drives and wired devices of his own making lay in disarray across the desk among tape recorders, a flyswatter and a dozen empty bottles of various liquors.
This is Michael Patten: Aka, The Answer. He’s been in this chair for four days and hasn’t noticed it yet.
He’s talking to himself.
Answer, under his breath: What they fail to realize is the tenuous nature of our universe. How many times have we tipped over the brink? There’s been shifts long before I started seeking . . . answers. Three separate smiling men, endless crises, the ticking of doom while a blue god smiles, and our agencies patrolling the net, like Komodo dragons stalking the high-watermark. What was our world before? What has it come to? Where is it going . . .
Waller, making her presence known: Hopefully Patten, your world will be taking a shower soon. Faraday tells me you’ve been of here for four days.
Answer, still observing the screens: Time is immaterial when there’s work to be done.
Waller: Or time’s the only thing that matters. What I’m paying you better be worth it. *She gazes across all the screens, taking in everything at once until her eyes stop on a small television screen showing a Robot punching the silhouette of a man in what could have passed for his face.*
Waller: Also, what are you watching?
Answer spins around: My dear director, of course it will be. Or rather, of course it is. In the alleged four days I’ve been here, I’ve seen to it your security system is airtight. Suffocatingly so. Nothing, short of The Bat with an extra two weeks at his disposal, could get through these cyber-doors. And even then, I’ve installed a number of bat traps. Also I happen to be watching the 60’s Doom Patrol show. Not voluntarily, mind you. For some reason it seems to be on every channel. It’s damn perplexing, and it’s causing me to miss Ancient Aliens.
Waller: Hm. A simple yes or no would have sufficed, but it sounds like you’ve delivered. We’ll see how long it is though until it’s tested. Then you better pray you’re as good as you claim.
Answer: Madame, there is no need for prayer in the world of cold hard numbers.
Waller: For your sake, you’d better hope not. Hit the showers when you’re done, and let Murph know if there’s anything you’ll be needing. We’ve got a mission coming up, so I need you bright-eyed.
Answer: There is one thing I need, a copy of Kafka’s Metamorphosis. Not to read, mind you, the paranoid, scratchy prose, but because that disdainful novella still measures an eight-point-five millimeters thick, which is just enough to counteract the surprisingly uneven floor underneath this desk to my left, here.
Waller, leaving: Take it up with Murph. Or just use Amazon.
Answer, returning to his monitors: Amazon, the river of mediocrity? Not likely. Help me Franz.
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In his private quarters, Colonel Rick Flag polishes his gun. Systematically he disassembles and cleans it. He checks everything is in working order, then deftly snaps it all back into place. He’s been at this, repeating the process for a solid ten minutes. He’s frustrated, and the shooting range is full.
Doctor Karin Grace enters. She’s tired, but not depressed. She has a better handle on their situation than Flag does. She used to love him, but as time has worn on, Flag has worn down. Karin has watched him crumble, and pities him more than anything.
Rick Flag is a good soldier. Rick Flag wants to be anything else.
Karin, sitting down next to Flag: Rick, please, relax.
Rick, taking a deep breath: Karin I . . . I want to apologize for my outburst earlier. It was uncalled for and out of line.
Karin: Rick c’mon, you don’t have to apologize to me. You don’t have to apologize to anyone. It was hardly an outburst. I don’t necessarily think the best use of our talents is fighting movie props to cover up a group of black-ops convicts either, but that’s what we’ve been hired for.
Rick, setting down his gun and standing up: That’s what pisses me off so god damn much. Convicts. There’s no reason for it. There’s no sense. Agents like us are already sworn to secrecy. Relying on that human refuse is a liability in itself. Do you think Captain Goddamn Boomerang can keep a secret?
Karin, still seated: No, but that’s not the point, Rick. The point is this what we signed on for. This is our duty. It’s just another job, and eventually when these scumbags get themselves wiped out, they’ll call in us. They’ll call in the real professionals.
Flag, beginning to strap on his gear: We’ll see, Karin. Probably best that you go get Jess and Hugh. We roll out in two hours.
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Digger and Floyd have chosen their bunks in the guardroom. Digger by the door, Floyd in the corner. Digger’s telling wild stories about his time with The Rogues.
Floyd doesn’t particularly care, but he listens anyways.
He’s lost count of which cigarette he’s on.
Digger: . . . And then he made ‘em eat his own laser Kaleidoscope! Ahahaha aw strewth, those were the good ole days. Things were simpler then. Now look at us, convicted killers yesterday, G-men today. And not too bad a deal if I say so m'self.
Floyd hangs his one picture, suspended by a thumbtack, on the wall. Satisfied, he shoves the rest of his luggage under his bunk.
Digger: Hey now, *he withdraws a small dartboard from his gear* Fancy a cuppa defeat?
--------------------------------------------------------
Waller is marching through the halls of Belle-Reve. Meeting with Patten always makes her feel ill for some reason. She think it’s his odor.
The monstrous and strange denizens behind the bars of the penitentiary are oddly quiet for once. She counts it as a blessing.
Amanda Waller has a headache.
Waller, into walkie talkie: Faraday, get Bend, leash him, and send him to the conference room. I’ll gather our other agents.
Faraday: Can do, boss.
Waller pockets the walkie talkie, takes two Advil, dry, and approaches the guardroom door. She opens it to find Digger and Floyd scuffling. Floyd’s got a dart four centimeters from Digger’s eye.
Digger: Alright, ALRIGHT, I relent y’great git! Get offa me!
Waller: ENOUGH, both of you. Don’t make me regret any more decisions.
Sheepishly, they both stand.
Waller: Floyd. Put the dart down.
Floyd chucks the dart over his shoulder where it sticks perfectly in the center of the board, disrupting the other darts already there. Pinned by the darts to the center of the board is Floyd’s cigarette.
Waller: Digger, admit you probably cheated.
Digger, grudgingly: Yeah alright, I tried t’swindle ya.
Waller: There, that’s settled. Now get yourselves ready and report to the conference room. And if there’s any fighting on the way there I’ll lock you both up myself. *she leaves*
Digger: Bloody hell, that was a fast turn-around. Looks like we’re about to meet our new Suicide Squad. And I wasn’t tryin’ to cheat y’know, was just a gag.
Floyd: Just shut up and get ready.
A fingerpost (sometimes referred to as a guide post) is a traditional type of sign post primarily used in the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland,[1] consisting of a post with one or more arms, known as fingers, pointing in the direction of travel to places named on the fingers. The posts have traditionally been made from cast iron or wood, with poles painted in black, white or grey and fingers with black letters on a white background, often including distance information in miles. In most cases, they are used to give guidance for road users, but examples also exist on the canal network, for instance. They are also used to mark the beginning of a footpath, bridleway, or similar public path..