View allAll Photos Tagged SCRAM
February 28, 2019
Arrival of the red-winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus). I heard one, and then I saw one land in the tree... Then a whole bunch arrived!
Brewster, Massachusetts
Cape Cod - USA
Photo by brucetopher
© Bruce Christopher 2019
All Rights Reserved
...always learning - critiques welcome.
Tools: Canon 7D & iPhone 6s.
No use without permission.
Please email for usage info.
Thanks to Dmote I got in connection with Tiger and Scram in Sydney and we decided to hit up a wall along with Sare2. The day started out pretty badly, heavy rain, traffic, I was supposed to be there at one but didn't show up till 3. However luckily the rain stopped as I arrived and we got a perfect afternoon from then on. We placed ourselves on the wall and started painting away.
I said no interruptions
and doggone-it, I meant it!
now, scram!
(... this is what i hear him saying. I can't help it.)
(p.s. the Goldfinches have arrived)
Went on a walk today on my lunch break to a park down the road that has wonderful trails along side of the largest lake in Lakeland! I got so many wonderful photos, I will be loading them over the next several days. The Water Lillies are blooming right now and I think they are so beautiful. I will have to go back and try to get some better photos of them, I looked down at my watch and realized I was going to be late getting back to work so I scrammed!
I experimented on this one once again. Started off by doing the Z first then went left and right placing shapes and forms so as to little by little define the letters. Once my colors where placed and the areas a little delimited in my head I started defining each element, improvising the whole way through. I admit I got a bit lost after a while and wasn't sure where this was heading yet it turned out ok in the end. The balance aint real right but it still works ok.
The quote is taken from an inside joke I had with Roach and some of his friends the day before, drunk in a bar hehe I ended up adding little dudes here and there doing a bunch of ranom shit in the end for the hell of it. A cool day, really managed to blow away a lot of tension while painting this.
Bunhill Fields is a tiny park and an oasis of calm at the outer edge of the City of London's financial district. I often go there for a sandwich and apple during my office lunch breaks.
The urban squirrels are very bold around here - dashing this way and that under the feet of the parkgoers.
The White Pelicans and Great Blue Heron fished side by side, but when the Pelicans wanted the space they pushed the heron out of it. I like the look on the pelican's face.
Here's another shot from Sedona. This was one of our favorite places from our road trip. This red rock was all over the place and it contrasted so well with all the greenery. This is probably the most recognizable formation in Sedona. This was a popular place at this time of day, too. I was really happy when a family of creek-goers opted to scram just before sunset. This shot took quite a bit of blending. There was a lot of wind so I had to shoot at a higher ISO for the trees, then I bumped up the aperture for the water and blended them all together with the rest of the scene.
The Gladiators
------------------------------------------
(Sir Ian's POV):
Sir Ian knew not how long more he stayed in the dirty cell. He had been transported once more and his burned arm had been sloppily treated with a splash of cool water and a rough bandage. It helped, but not much. Apparently, they want they prisoners in good condition, he thought. He also knew not where the Loreesi man who had offered him assistance had been taken, or if he still lived. He somehow hoped so. Days, hours, minutes passed at a mind-numbngly. Here in the dark cell, no difference was to be told. The only thing that marked the passage of time was the occasional crust of bread and bowl of water slid though the iron bars of the door. So they wanted to keep him alive, they thought to himself. Finally, he glanced up to see yellow torchlight growing brighter as it flickered down the passage towards him. It stopped in front of his door. "You, come over to the door!" The guard fingered a ring of keys. Sir Ian nervously shambled over to the door where the guard stepped in, unlocked his chains, then whipped out a gladius. "Now, don't make me kill yeh." He prodded the prisoner with the rusted end. "Move it." Sir Ian shuffled down the muddy, damp corridor, for lack of a better alternative.
After he had been walking for what seemed like hours to his sense-of-time-bereaved mind, another guard pushing a similarly bedraggled Erathor Pridenar joined them from another corridor. "Hello, old friend," he gasped. "Stay silent!" the guard snapped and cuffed the Loreesi on the head. At the end of another musty corridor, Sir Ian could barely make out a pinprick of light.As they drew closer it enlarged. Finally, the guards shoved the two prisoners out the entrance. The light was blinding. Sir Ian squinted and could not keep his eyes open.
The sunlight made his eyes ache and tingle after being in the dark for so long. "Move along, blondie! No time for fooling around!" The guard jabbed Sir Ian's bare back lightly with the blade. He had no idea where they were going. Although colors swam and danced heavily in front of his eyes, he made out a dirty street fringed with ramshackle houses and tattered Loreesi banners sprinkled sparsely along the rooftops. He stumbled along the dusty street. Must be a nominally "Loreesi" village being used as an Outlaw hideout, he thought. He did a double take to see a young Queen's archer clad in the standard studded leather vest and a red bandana walking idly down the streets, fingering a cheap crossbow. The man stopped and directed his attention to the party of bandits, for they had now been joined by a couple more of their captors, and eyed the two knights quizzically. "Where'd 'e get these 'uns, Horace?" One of the Outlaws, the one dressed in Queen's uniform and wearing a battered gorget, replied, "Ah, we got 'em up at Granhaven. Them Loreesi and a few Garhims were pushing the boys out, so we decided to grab some, uh, booty, and scram while we still had our heads." "I see", replied the crossbowman. "You know the slave market up North just got busted, right?"
The Outlaw, presumably called Horace, replied, "So I hear. Shame, I coulda made some good money on these. But I guess they're just, ah, entertainment now." Next to Ian, Erathor spat and winced. This was obviously not how the Loreesi lord had imagined their remaining prison time to pass. Still, Ian thought, their was the hope of Rufus Battleborn. But Horace's next words sent a shot of doubt down the Garhim's spine. "You heading' down to the arena? We just got finished with a coupla' Lenfels and these two'll do quite nicely. Wargs are still hungry." With a pang of fear, Sir Ian remembered the whispered conversation he had overheard from the cell. The archer and Horace exchanged goodbyes and the latter prodded the two captives on.
It was not long before they reached "the arena". While not as impressive as Sir Ian had imagined, it was still a grim sight, as he watched the spent forms of 2 Lenfels being dragged away. It was about 20 feet square, with 2 of the walls being constructed, or more thrown together, of stone and mud, while the other two were of wood. Sharp stakes lined the palisades, making any thought of escape more complicated. A crowd of Outlaws surrounded the ring on crude wooden benches, talking amongst themselves, obviously delighted that they would see another pair of prisoners meet their end today. "Put these on!" said Horace, who dropped a few meager pieces of armor, a shortsword, and a mace at their feet. "This is barbaric!" whispered Erathor as the two knights leaned over to adorn the scraps of Outlaw-fashioned pauldron and vambrace. Sir Ian was about to reply but something caught his eye. "Look! There's Rufus!" he returned in a dry whisper as he noticed the heavyset Outlaw amidst the crowd. "I hope he carries through." "Indeed," the Loreesi noble replied. "Alright, enough chit-chat!" Horace gestured into the arena. Seeing no better choice, the two men clambered over the wall and dropped to the scuffed ground. Another one of their captors locked a chain around each man's neck and fastened the other end to a post."Have fun!" the man laughed, and vaulted over the side of the arena to observe the imminent spectacle. Sir Ian fingered the mace he had chosen. It was rusty, but better than nothing. Suddenly, he snapped to attention as with a snarl, a far less-groomed version of his old friend Tarminus' mount bounded over the crude palisade. The beast growled again and sprang forward. "Quick, Erathor!" Sir Ian yelled and ducked behind the post to feel the bast's great bulk slam into the other side. Erathor stepped in from the side and brought his sword down on the Warg's back. The crowd exploded with hollers of disappointment and delight alike. The animal growled viciously and snapped its head around the tear at the Loreesi. Sir Ian dodged back around the post and swung his mace and the already-bruised back of the Warg. It howled in rage, but the two knights had gained an advantage, and continued fending it off while dealing out blows. The Warg had had enough, and, bruised and battered, turned and bounded away, springing from, the arena and bowling over a couple of surprised spectators. The rabble roared with raucous laughter. "Impressive!" boomed Horace's commanding but cruel tone. "It seems both of you have some skill with the blade. Evidently, the only sensible conclusion is that you fight…each other!"
--------------------------------------
(Lord Erathor's POV):
Erathor was not in a cell anymore, the guards had deemed him unworthy for such a privilege. Instead, he found himself hunched in a cramped cage, bars all around him, unable to move. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes as, once again, he heard footsteps approaching.
“Get up, you!” A stinking Outlaw unlocked the cage and Erathor crawled out, wincing in pain as he did so. “C’mon, move it!” He was pushed forward and he staggered into the hallway, almost falling into Ian as he did so.
“Hello, old friend,” the lord croaked, only to receive a blow to the head.
“Stay silent!” the guard ordered, and they continued forward to a large entrance, filled with blindingly bright light. Shoved through the doorway, Erathor could make out buildings all around, buildings that appeared to be Loreesi. He was in the desert, and the glare of the sun was hot on his head.
"Where'd 'e get these 'uns, Horace?" asked a guard in Galainir’s uniform. Erathor squirmed with rage.
"Ah, we got 'em up at Grahnhaven. Them Loreesi and a few Garhims were pushing the boys out, so we decided to grab some, uh, booty, and scram while we still had our heads."
"I see,” replied the crossbowman. "You know the slave market up North just got busted, right?"
"So I hear. Shame, I coulda made some good money on these. But I guess they're just, ah, entertainment now." Ian shivered and Erathor spat onto the sand, still trying to break free from the guards, who were surprisingly strong. Where was Rufus? Why were they relying on another Outlaw to get them out? He sighed, realising that they had no other way out now.
"You heading' down to the arena? We just got finished with a coupla' Lenfels and these two'll do quite nicely. Wargs are still hungry,” the former Queen’s man said as he turned to walk away, leaving the two captives to their fate.
The arena itself was crude, made up of bloodied wooden stakes. Fresh blood was on the sand, staining it scarlet.
“Look, there’s Rufus!” Ian whispered urgently.
“Indeed,” replied Erathor, desperately hoping he wouldn’t let them down. The conversation was cut off, though, as they were ‘guided’ into the arena and chains were fastened around their necks. They were tied to posts, effectively live bait. Scrappy armour placed on them, rusting weapons in hand, the two men faced down the creature that had been let in, a huge wolf-like thing with teeth the size off a man’s hand. There was anger in its eyes.
The warg leaped forward at Ian but the Garhim’s instincts had kicked in, and he ducked away. The beast turned to Erathor but received the strong blow of a sword on its back, just as Ian’s mace flew forward. Howling in rage it continued its attack, but it was severely weakened and could be held off by the battered Roawians. It suddenly appeared to have had enough and the creature flung itself back over the spiked fence, receiving cheers from the crowd. Horace stood and laughed.
"Impressive! It seems both of you have some skill with the blade. Evidently, the only sensible conclusion is that you fight…each other!"
————-
A blinding light shines down onto Warlock’s body as a Nova’s ship lands on the ground. Nova exits and pulls his body into the ship. He walks over over to me and says, “I see you found Gamora. You know we’re going to have to hunt you and your ‘Guardians Of The Galaxy’ down. But to be nice I’ll let you go for this time.”
“You, know maybe the Nova corps ain't that bad after all. Also our ship is kinda, not in one piece.”
“There’s a great shipyard 5 jumps from here, I bet Yondu can get you there.”
“Actually, we could use a Nova officer on the ‘Guardians Of The Galaxy’.”
“I'll think about it, anyway scram.” I make my way to Yondu with Drax’s body and a ship similar to the Milano sends down a ladder. We all hold on and rise to the back of the ship. I look down and see more Nova corps arrive. The door then swiftly closes.
------------
Thanks for reading the last issue of volume 1 ‘infinite’ I will be posting my plans for volume was later this week.
-hero motion
A postcard sent from Lebanon, Pennsylvania, on September 3, 1907, and addressed to "Aline Gregory, 324 N. Main, Los Angeles, Cal."
Handwritten message: "Aline, The baby is sick and makes mother busy. Will write soon. Wal[ter?]."
"Twenty-three skidoo" -- meaning "scram" or "beat it" -- derives from a fad that started in 1906. Take a look at another early 23 Skidoo postcard, or see my 23 Skidoo and Lemons Too album for additional examples.
Actually, I think it was in Explore for about five minutes. There was a brief flurry of faves, and then it was over.
Picked up a Kubrick Big Bird from their Sesame Street line, and I think it fits right in with my LEGO town. Here's a couple of quick snapshots of him getting to know the place.
Please view on black and large:
bighugelabs.com/flickr/onblack.php?id=2490546551&size...
Not well known among those not from the area, or not into historic architecture, the Flatiron Building is a favorite of New Yorkers and admirers around the world. Perhaps because it symbolizes so much of how New Yorkers see themselves -- Defiant, bold, sophisticated, and interesting. With just enough embedded grime and soot to highlight its details. The Flatiron's most interesting feature is its shape -- a slender hull plowing up the streets of commerce as the bow off a great ocean liner plows through the waves of its domain. The apex of the building is just six feet wide, and expands into a limestone wedge adorned with Gothic and Renaissance details of Greek faces and terra cotta flowers.
The building has two claims to fame -- one architectural, the other cultural. Some consider the Flatiron Building to be New York City's first skyscraper. It certainly was one of the first buildings in the city to employ a steel frame to hold up its 285-foot tall facade, but not the first. Some felt its shape (like a flatiron) was less artistic and more dangerous. They thought it would fall over, and during construction the Flatiron Building was nicknamed "Burnham's Folly."
The building's cultural legacy is a little more interesting and has passed into the local social consciousness as a fable. It is said that the building created unusual eddies in the wind which would cause women's skirts to fly around as they walked on 23rd street. This attracted throngs of young men who gathered to view the barelegged spectacle. Police would try to disperse these knots of heavy-breathers by calling to them, "23 Skidoo." This phrase has passed out of common usage, but its descendant, the word "scram" remains in a back corner of the American lexicon.
Last piece in Australia this time round, fast and fun times alongside Sare2 at the famous May's Lane in Sydney. Thanks to Scram for the spot. Even though this spot gets painted pretty much daily, somehow this wall is still up 3,5 weeks after it was done :)
The Scram-Delta D-Wing was manufactured by the Damorian Manufacturing Corporation (Essesia System) as a rapid assault fighter with the unique attribute of having a long range remote guidance system whose movements could be controlled by the Core Tactical Computers of the local Capital Ship. In "easy" mode, the pilot's role became primarily a weapons operator, being required to simply thumb the large and very ergonomic "fire" buttons rapidly several times (preferably yelling, "Aaaaaaaagh!!!!"), once the Core Tac-Com had conveniently manoeuvred the D-Wing to place any enemy vehicles within its targeting crosshairs.
The Jedi Order had captured a Scram-Delta that had been escorting an Imperial supply convoy. Seeing potential in the remote system, they hacked the guidance system and slaved it to their own Tac-Coms in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Then came the time to test the system, but of course, they needed a humanoid Prindaar Surf-Hog (guinea pig).
Master Yoda himself said, "Install Pokludix Zaa in the D-Wing we should. A computer the fighter will control. "Easy" mode set, we will. Possibly go wrong, what could, hmm? Hmmmmmm."
So once more, Pokludix flashes into space in yet another risky and unknown starfighter... Will he return safely or will something possibly go wrong?
Built for the Alphabet Starfighter Contest at FBTB.
"With my compliments."
Why would someone be giving away lemons "with my compliments"?
It helps to know that handing someone a lemon in the early twentieth century when this postcard appeared was actually a way to say "scram," "beat it," or in the parlance of the day, "skidoo" or "23 skidoo."
For more information about "23 skidoo" and how it related to lemons, see Skidoo 23 Is Now 37.
I don’t know if the exterior decoration is terracotta that has been painted or cast material of some sort. The current painting scram is fanciful and attractive.
A month later, and Harry still hasn't spoken to me. His friendship is one of the most important things to me, and yet, I just screwed it up. I went to the funereal, but that won't change what happened. There's no forgiveness there. To be fair though, if I didn't jump out of way, I would've been dead, and I'd prefer to being alive than dead. Spider-Man saved the city, but Peter Parker lost his best friend that day. That, and J Jonah Jameson has done a complete 180, now saying that Spider-Man's a menace to society. Honestly, I can't really disagree with him, which is why I haven't touched the suit since. With this newfound free time, I've got back into photography, which I did a lot more of when I was younger, even though my pictures always ended up being so blurry. With an open slot at the Daily Bugle, I've been honing my skills, to get the job, so that Aunt May doesn't have to work herself so hard to pay the bills. Sure Teresa still gets money from SHIELD missions, but Aunt May has a hard time accepting the money, saying that she should save it.
Anyways, back to Harry. Ever since that day, he's been hanging out with Flash Thompson of all people. I feel like he's doing it on purpose to try to hurt me in some way. Ironic, since Flash is one of Spider-Man's biggest fans. Cheyenne skipped town, so that also doesn't help Harry's state of mind any. So now, it's just me and Lana.
It's after school, and I'm standing at the front doors to the Daily Bugle. Here goes nothing... I open the doors of the Daily Bugle, and walk in. I ask the receptionist, Betty Brant for directions to J Jonah Jameson's office. On the way to his office, I overhear some of the journalists talking.
"Oh c'mon Norah! I know you were a big fan of that Goblin story. This Hobgoblin could be the next big thing!"
"Sorry Phil, but you've got no evidence! Just an orange blur, which could literally be anything."
"So what you're saying is, you'll work with me on the story if I get you proof that the Hobgoblin exists?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
"You better keep to it! I'm on the case!" Phil says with a cheer, as he runs out of the office, bumping into me on the way out, which causes me to stumble. I regain myself after a second, and make my way into Jameson's office.
"Yes? What is it?! I don't have all day!" He barks out, noticing me enter the room.
"I'm here for the photographer position. Peter Parker. It's nice to finally meet you."
"Don't act like you know me Patrick! I don't have time for small talk, I'm a very busy man."
"Clearly. It's Peter sir..." I nod in agreeance, trying not to get on his bad side.
"I don't care what your name is! As long as you take good pictures, the rest doesn't matter."
I reach into my bag, grabbing my portfolio, filled with varying landscape shots I've taken, and place it on his desk.
"They're crap! Crap, crap, megacrap. Sorry kid, but landscape shots don't sell newspapers! But you know what does sell newspapers? That menace, Spider-Man!"
"Menace? But wasn't the Daily Bugle a huge supporter of the friendly neighborhood webhead?"
"That's before I learned his true nature. He creates these villains he fights to get famous! He's also a coward that hides behind a mask! What's he hiding from? What's so bad that he would need to hide his true face from the public? So anyways, if you get me pictures of that menace or something newsworthy, I'll give you some money But if not, scram!" He's already huffing and puffing. I'm surprised he hasn't blown the whole place down. Well this is problematic, considering my decision to stop being Spider-Man. Guess I'll have to find an even bigger story.
Explore Nov. 11, 2009 #275
Tokina 11-16 f2.8
Exposure: 0.125 sec (1/8)
Aperture: f/11.0
Focal Length: 11 mm
Hoya Pro 1 Digital CPL
Please view large on black to see the detail in the rocks here B l a c k M a g i c
"Roaring River Roaring" and that's exactly what it was doing, as in right in my face. Wipe, shoot, scram was the situation !
Barry screamed around the building seventeen times before he located Leonard Snart.
“There’s nowhere left to run Snart,” Barry said behind Leonard Snart.
“You’re sloppy Flash...you ran past me four times,” Snart said with a smirk across his face
“At least I’m not the one wearing a parka”
“What’s with the cold shoulder Flash. I thought we were friends. Perhaps ‘friends’ is too much...acquaintances perhaps?” Snart said as he slowly paced back and forth.
“I don’t have time for this” Barry said as he went to grab Snart. Before he could reach him Snart raised his gun and fired a blue stream at Barry’s feet freezing him in place.
“Now while you’re stuck there why don’t we just have a good time and chill?”
“Cold puns? Are you being serious? I know I make bad jokes but this...is just unfortunate.”
“You don’t like my puns? How cold of you,” Cold said with a grimace.
“As soon as I get out of this ice...I’m gonna wipe that smug look off your face Captain Cold.”
“Captain Cold?! Now that...is a name I could get used to,”
Snart said as Barry began to shake from the ice gnawing at his feet.
“It certainly compliments your look...the guns...the puns,” Barry said as he noticed something odd. It was as if he was slipping through the ice by shaking. He began to try to shake faster.
“Well Flash, its been fun...it certainly has, but I have to get running before the cops show up and arrest your little speedster friend. Til’ we meet again Flash,” Snart said as he began to walk away. Barry began to vibrate faster and faster until the ice shattered which caused Snart to turn back around. “How did you-” Snart said as he pressed the trigger on his gun. Barry ran at Snart before the gun could fire except he was vibrating. When he went to slap the gun out of Snart’s hand something happened. It disturbed something within the gun. Instead of firing it exploded sending ice energy up his arm. He fell to the ground and screamed.
“Snart! Are you okay?” Barry exclaimed
“ *Arg* Do I look okay you idiot? What the hell did you do to my cold gun?” Snart responded
“I-I didn’t mean to. I’ll go get help!”
“No, no help...they’ll...they’ll arrest me.”
“You would’ve been arrested anyway!”
“Fat chance!”
“At least you’re not spewing cold puns anymore”
“What the hell is wrong with you!” Snart yelled as he gripped his arm in agony. “I’m gonna kill you Flash...mark my...mark my...words,” Snart said as his head slowly drooped to the ground.
“No! Stay with me Snart...damn it...I’m not gonna let you die!” Barry yelled as he became increasingly confused about what to do. He looked around frantically but then the thought hit him. He looked down at his hand and concentrated.
“Cmon….” Barry said as his arm quivered slightly. Then it burst to life with electricity. “Yes! Yes!” Barry said as looked from his hand to Snart. “I really hope this works,” Barry said as he placed his fist firmly and Snart’s chest. Electricity flowed through Snart’s body and he jolted back to consciousness. Snart wheezed as he sat back up and Barry fell onto his back in relief. “
"What did you do? Did I die? Please tell me this isn't hell,” Snart asked.
“No, you didn’t die. I resuscitated you with my electricity.”
“You...you saved me?”
Barry leaned back up. “Of course I saved you"
"The hero isn't normally supposed to save the villain, I think you may be confused."
"A hero should save everyone they can. No matter who they are or what they represent."
“I’ll be sure to make a note of how soft you are before I make revisions,” Snart said as he looked down to his cold gun. “Do you know how long that took me to make?”
“Oh, I’m sorry I foiled your master plan Mr. Villain”
“You know I’ve about had enough-” Snart said as he was interrupted by the opening of a nearby door.
“CCPD put your hands in the air,” David Singh said who was flanked by two more police officers who had “Metahuman Task Force” printed on their uniform.
“They always have to yell so loudly,” Snart said sarcastically.
“He’s all yours officer,” Barry said slightly differently than his normal voice. He figured if he could vibrate his entire body, then he could vibrate just a single part of his body such as his vocal cords. “Now if you don’t mind I have a date I need to get back to”.
“Actually, I do mind. You’re a witness to all of this...I’ll be taking you in as well Flash”. David Singh said.
“You can’t be serious” Barry responded
“Oh he’s deadly serious,” Snart said with an eye roll.
“Do you shut up?” Barry asked
“Do you?” Snart responded
“Will both of you shut up? You’re under arrest for-” David Singh said as Barry ran off. “Damn it! Where did he go?”
“He just ran away? Now that’s cold...and I should know” Snart said as he gestured to his arm. As he raised his arm to point he pressed something on his belt.
“What don’t you understand about shut up?” David Singh asked as he placed handcuffs on Leonard Snart. He then walked him around the building to an armored vehicle. David opened the back doors to reveal that there was already a passenger inside.
“August Heart...you turned out to be the judge,” Leonard snart said with a smirk
“You! Who killed my brother!” August shouted
“If I knew I would’ve already told you,” Snart said as David Singh forced him into the truck. “The man who killed your brother wasn’t a part of my Rogues after that night. He either scrammed or the Flash subdued him before he left the building.”
“Of course...it always comes back to the Flash...to...” August trailed off as the truck pulled out of the parking lot.
“Tell me about it, but why did you stop? Do you know who he is?” Leonard inquired as he leaned towards August.
August looked into Leonard Snart’s eyes “If I knew...I would’ve already told you.”
“Touche speedster,” Leonard Snart said. That last statement was followed by silence until something odd happened. A hazy, translucent figure seemed to phase through the doors of the truck and they developed into a full human.
“Oh, brother...what have you gotten yourself into this time?” the figure asked with a gentleness to their voice.
“August Heart I’d like you to meet my baby sister, Lisa Snart,” Leonard Snart said with a gesture of his bound hands.
“I can really see the family resemblance,” August said sarcastically.
“That’s no way to treat your beautiful rescuer,” Lisa Snart said with a slightly pouty face.
“My rescuer?” August asked
“Your rescuer. You can’t find the killer of your brother all on your own...especially if you're in Iron Heights. And we could use someone like you on our team. So what do you say, would you care to join the new and improved Rogues?” Leonard Snart asked. August Heart pondered for a moment...was this the person he wanted to be? Did he want to be a villain? Like them? Did he have a choice? No...no he didn’t...He raised his restraints.
“Hell yeah I would”
So i am done my breakfast project for now. I may add to it on occasion though!
1. Asparagus, Egg & Parmigiano-Reggiano Breakfast, 2. grilled plantain, 3. Friday Grilled Corn & Bean Breakfast, 4. Thursday Morning Smoothie, 5. Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp with Orange zest, 6. Tuesday Baked Yellow Sweet Potato Breakfast, 7. breakfast salad, 8. Polenta fries, 9. thursday breakfast, 10. kiwi's & banana bread, 11. Natural No Bake Carrot Cake, 12. Peanut Butter & Banana cakes, 13. Almond Pancakes, 14. Saturday's snap, crackle and pop, 15. Hominy and Eggs Scram, 16. Bowl of Beta-carotene, 17. Nutty Breakfast, 18. Sautéed Kale & Poached Egg Breakfast, 19. Monday Breakfast, 20. Sunday Breakfast, 21. Birthday breakfast, 22. Friday morning breakfast, 23. breakfast for Thursday!, 24. Wednesdays two tone breakfast
Created with fd's Flickr Toys
Dropped Himmy off for a 'under warranty' relay switch thingy replacement..
So many Enfields there at Manhattons!!
Feast for the eyes and worthy of a few snaps too.!!
Took a reflected selfie as well whilst waiting for my taxi home.!
A lemony postcard from 1906 that was connected to the "23 skidoo" fad that was popular at the time (notice the "23" on the hat or whatever it is that's on top of the lemon's head).
To find out what lemons meant in the early twentieth century and how they were connected to 23 skidoo, see Skidoo 23 Is Now 37.
For more postcards, see my 23 Skidoo and Lemons Too album.
The Lemon
Oh, something that's yellow and egg-shape, not round!
You buy by the dozen, in crates they are found;
Oh, something that's handed out freely each day,
"For yours" this portrait now comes to say.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
These flowers have always been bokeh, or behind the subject. Well, today, they are part of the subject. :) It was a cloudy start today, but the sun started to pop out of the clouds. On that note, I scrammed (more like walked) to get my camera and brought Chuppy out to take some pictures.
Chuppy is actually stopping to smell the flowers, instead of zooming past them like a wild dog. :)
. . . My trail cam never disappoints me, I always get a comical shot of deer behaving badly! This deer is probably displaying a territorial sign to another one just off camera to the right. "I'm more important to you, scram!"
Have a great week Facebook and Flickr friends!
Next time you're found, with your chin on the ground
There a lot to be learned, so look around
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he'll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows an ant, can't
Move a rubber tree plant
But he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes
He's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes
So any time you're gettin' low
'stead of lettin' go
Just remember that ant
Oops there goes another rubber tree plant
When troubles call, and your back's to the wall
There a lot to be learned, that wall could fall
Once there was a silly old ram
Thought he'd punch a hole in a dam
No one could make that ram, scram
He kept buttin' that dam
'Cause he had high hopes, he had high hopes
He had high apple pie, in the sky hopes
So any time you're feelin' bad
'stead of feelin' sad
Just remember that ram
Oops there goes a billion kilowatt dam
All problems just a toy balloon
They'll be bursted soon
They're just bound to go pop
Oops there goes another problem kerplop
für Mona´s Musikladen
ein hoch auf Doris Day und auf die abgefahrensten hüte die ich jemals in einem film gesehen habe.
"Pyjama für 2" heißt der reißer und ist nur zu empfehlen.
An early twentieth-century postcard.
My Hearts Wishes
Date ________ 190__
I Wish You Would
Check
__ Meet me to-night
__ Not worry too much
__ Send me some flowers
__ Take me to the Theatre
__ Kiss me at the gate
__ Take me out to dinner
__ Leave me alone
__ Be a sister to me
__ Marry me
__ Be a brother to me
__ Marry someone else
__ Flirt with me
__ Be an old maid
__ Beg my pardon
__ Grow a wart on your nose
__ Forgive me
__ Skiddoo - 23 for you
Check
__ Come back to me
__ Bring me a box of candy
__ Declare your love
__ Come real often
__ Pop the question
__ Get busy
__ Come every Sunday
__ Cut out your fooling
__ Quit the other girl
__ Try it again
__ Forget me
__ Grow a mustache
__ Kiss me
__ Loan me five
__ Quit talking about me
__ Behave yourself
__ Get arrested
What I Wish
Having been so bold as to convey to you a faint idea of the dearest wishes of my heart and hoping every one of them will in due time come true, I remain
Most sincerely yours,
____________
Jill and I had a week in Scotland, staying at Seton Sands caravan site..
Lovely spot and whilst there saw our daughter and son in Law. Plus I had a day to myself and so hired a Royal Enfield Scram from Bikerbnb Adventures bike shop/dealer in Edinburgh.
Enjoyed 180(s)miles on that bike which is similar but different to my Himmy..!
Nikon D3200 - 90mm f/2.8 Macro -
This is once again one of my neighbors flowers. Unlike yesterdays flower I was minding my p's and q's as I am unsure if this neighbor has patience for me. One foot in her garden and one foot out, I had to scram as she was calling to her dog to take him for a walk. This bee balm was easier to photograph than other coneflowers because the stalks are so long...it wasn't too back breaking as to shoot into the tree's to get the bokeh.
P.S. I know what you are thinking...yes, the title is a Tolkien reference....yes, I am that nerdy!