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("75 Ways") #9: Make a bad drawing when you first wake up.
DD#2 (age 20.5) recently got contact lenses and bought an off-the-rack pair of fashionable sunglasses at an optique boutique. Tres chic!.
Evidently in my subconscious I envy* her for this, because I dreamed that I did the same.
Me, I have two pair of sunglasses (for future, posed portraits):
(1) "Sporty" ones for distance vision, with solid black plastic frames and narrow lenses (to keep the costs down). chosen in haste from not-much-of-a-selection at the optometrist's, and they're an aesthetic blight. I only wear them for aerobic walking (i.e. rarely) at the shoreline nature preserve, where others are too busy admiring the scenery to call in the Fashion Police.
(2) Vintage 70's with large smoky-gradient lenses and a silver-colored filigree (!) frame I'd love to find again. Too delicate for sport, I wear these around town but since they too only have a distance prescription, I can't see with them in shops or while riding the bus. When I get some money for frivolities, I'll have the lenses redone as multifocals and wear these all the time, EVERYWHERE!
* For the record: I wore contacts between the ages of 20-31 but they ceased meeting my vision demands and I gave them up for multifocals, plus recently a second pair of "studio" lenses: blended bifocals (arm's length and close focus) for keyboards (computer, piano) and KP.
The Avrocar was the result of a Canadian effort to develop a supersonic, vertical takeoff and landing (VTOL) fighter-bomber in the early 1950s. However, its circular shape gave it the appearance of a “flying saucer” out of science fiction movies of the period.
A.V. Roe (Avro) Aircraft Limited (later Avro Canada) based its design concept for the Avrocar on using the exhaust from turbojet engines to drive a circular “turborotor” which produced thrust. By directing this thrust downward, the turborotor would create a cushion of air (also known as “ground effect”) upon which the aircraft would float at low altitude. When the thrust was directed toward the rear, the aircraft would accelerate and gain altitude.
In 1952, the Canadian government provided initial funding but dropped the project when it became too expensive. Avro offered the project to the U.S. government, and the U.S. Army and U.S. Air Force took it over in 1958. Each service had different requirements: the Army wanted to use it as a subsonic, all-terrain troop transport and reconnaissance craft, but the USAF wanted a VTOL aircraft that could hover below enemy radar then zoom up to supersonic speed. Avro’s designers believed they could satisfy both services, but these two sets of requirements differed too much.
Research data originally indicated that a circular wing might satisfy both the Army’s and Air Force’s requirements, and Avro built two small test vehicles to prove the concept. Designated the VZ-9AV Avrocar (“VZ” stood for “experimental vertical flight,” “9” for the ninth concept proposal, and “AV” for Avro).
Tests with scale models at Wright-Patterson AFB, Ohio, indicated that the cushion of air under the Avrocar would become unstable just a few feet off the ground. The aircraft would be incapable of reaching supersonic speeds, but the testing went ahead to determine if a suitable aircraft could be developed for the Army. The first prototype -- the Avrocar on display (serial number 58-7055) -- was sent to the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) Ames Research Center at Moffett Field, Calif. There, wind tunnel tests proved that the aircraft had insufficient control for high speed flight and was aerodynamically unstable.
The second Avrocar prototype underwent flight tests that validated the wind tunnel tests. If it flew more than three feet above the ground, the Avrocar displayed uncontrollable pitch and roll motions, which the Avro engineers called "hubcapping." The Avrocar could only reach a maximum speed of 35 mph, and all attempts to end the hubcapping failed. The project was cancelled in December 1961.
The second prototype aircraft went to the U.S. Army Transportation Museum at Fort Eustis, Va., and the first prototype Avrocar came to the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force in 2007.
TECHNICAL NOTES:
Crew: Two
Engines: Three Continental J69-T9 turbojets of 927 lbs. thrust each
Wingspan: 18 feet
Height: 4 feet, 10 inches
Weight: 4,620 lbs. empty
A high-adrenaline tale of young climber Peter Garrett, who must launch a treacherous and extraordinary rescue effort up K2, the world's second highest peak. Confronting both his own limitations and the awesome power of nature's uncontrollable elements, Peter risks his life to save his sister, Annie, and her summit team in a race against time.
This movie will have you on the edge of your seat?
Life is short, Break the Rules. Forgive quickly, Kiss slowly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably And never regret ANYTHING That makes you smile.
Mark Twain
This was me laughing uncontrollably and begging the DJ to end the song. We danced to Take My Breath Away by Berlin (hence the aviators)
OBT Profile: tribe.offbeatbride.com/members/sarahbanana/
Photographer: Morgan @ movephotography.com
TH-138 laughed uncontrollably at the plight of Dr. Beef's poor stormtroopers. Neil, shame on you!
* * *
I took this in front of the monitor, and got a dumb glare. The picture he's standing in front of is here: www.flickr.com/photos/doctorbeef/3596883134/in/set-721576...
he bites off more than he can chew :-) Herb Caen
quince, j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, Raleigh, north carolina
I had hoped to return to work today, but i still tire too easily, that and i my cough is still uncontrollable and totally wears me out, and i continue to go through entirely too many tissues. but i do feel quite a bit better and i have stopped losing weight. small victories i suppose, but victories nonetheless :-)
In Lung Cancer, certain cells become abnormal and multiply uncontrollably to form a tumor, which remains one of the most aggressive human cancers worldwide possibly because of diverse genotypic alterations that drive and maintain lung tumorigenesis.
Lung cancers are classified according to molecular
subtypes, predicated on particular genetic alterations that drive and maintain lung tumorigenesis.
For Consultation-
Visit- www.pathsos.net
Email- info@pathsos.net
Call- +91 124 4995078
01 // Praying Hands
02 Social Fools
03 Be Stiff
04 Uncontrollable Urge
05 Secret Agent Man
06 Shrivel Up
07 The Last Time I Saw St. Louis
08 Fraulein (glitches)
09 Too Much Paranoias
10 Huboon Stomp
11 Space Junk
12 Mongoloid
13 I Think I'm Falling In Love Again
14 Soo Bawlz
15 Blockhead
16 Jocko Homo (fades)
5w3d
That patch of dark hair is my roomie, Emilka. She's the girl I keep thinking about whenever I feel like complaining about pregnancy. She had hyperemesis gravidarum, which is a condition causing uncontrollable nausea/vomiting. We'd talk about silly stuff, shopping or whatever, and then she'd be like "Sorry..." -- and puke, puke, pukeeeee like hell :D. At first I thought I'd be grossed myself, but it turned out my preggo superpower is +1000 res to the smell or sound of puking. I was eating huge amounts of food, she couldn't keep a glass of water down. As weird as it sounds, we had tons of fun together as cellmates. Actually, when I'm writing this description, she's 33w preggo and the great path of barf remains strong with her. If you're reading this, Emilka, you are the pillar of my strength. At least I end up nauseated and heartburned to hell, not puking my guts 24/7 out like you :D.
Fun fact: can you see the pipes on the ceiling? There was a borthing room directly above us, and the girls would sometimes go take a shower in the middle of the night. We'd wake up 15 times over, because the water was so loud and scary xD
I set up a home studio yesterday after moving around furniture with my brother and using a spotlight. I've been posting mostly b&w lately. Must be my mood. Here is one in color to break the pattern.
me kneeling down in a deep crack caused by uncontrollable mine fires underneath an abandoned highway
We have planned a couple of days of vegetation clearance before Christmas at Wicklewood. There were a few trees that had grown too close to the trains and so needed to come out. Others that were diseased were also taken out in order to avoid them falling down uncontrollably later. As a benefit, we have opened up some nice views.
The humble mole that dared to strap on the mighty (and slightly uncontrollable) Copterpack.
I helped my sister mod a Robo Copter toy for a Mole Day contest at her high school. we had a little trouble with the weight and balancing but it wasn't to bad. We eventually got it to fly and she won the contest.
The Summer Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
The Summer Sangha came back better than ever! Nine bhaktis, eight days, lots of kirtan, a group art project and some uncontrollable laughter made up this year's Summer Sangha. Take a look at some of the highlights below!
bhaktimarga.org
My first glaze firing in the kiln yesterday, hoorah!! Hand formed bowl with homegrown tomatoes. (loving my new dark blue underglaze :-) #ceramics #clay
78 Likes on Instagram
27 Comments on Instagram:
flowerpress: Thank you Manda! In my dream they were all stuck and the colours hadn't worked - it is all a wonderful uncontrollable alchemy @manda_paino and so nice when it works! That must have been fun to share it with your Mum :-)
brookeimogen: Beautiful! Tomatoes look yummy
flowerpress: Thanks Brooke 😘 (yellow ones are great @brookeimogen you should grow some!)
pammy2726: A triumph 💥
orangetreechange: Wow Susie fabulous colour bowl & how lucky to already have tomatoes!! 💙💛💙
flowerpress: Thanks Marg, I got them inpretty early! @orangetreechange
flowerpress: Thanks @pammy2726 😘😘
instagram.com/just.add.salt: How did I miss this! Looks amazing
We walked slowly toward the elevator, cautious at every corner. A gruesome mixture of blood and meat littered the bare floor. I watched in horror as Kate gently stepped over it to push the elevator button. My arms began to shake uncontrollably as fear began to spread throughout my body.
Kate: “Damn, it looks like they’ve been here already. This is disgusting.”
Sergeant Jackson: “Keep your mind on what needs to be done, Kate.”
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
It’s normal, on occasion, to go back and double-check that the iron is unplugged or your car is locked. But if you suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors become so excessive they interfere with your daily life.
Obsessive compulsive disorder is an anxiety disorder characterized by uncontrollable, unwanted thoughts and repetitive, ritualized behaviors you feel compelled to perform.
Most people with obsessive compulsive disorder fall into one of the following categories:
#Washers are afraid of contamination. They usually have cleaning or hand-washing compulsions.
#Checkers repeatedly check things (oven turned off, door locked, etc.) that they associate with harm or danger.
#Doubters and sinners are afraid that if everything isn’t perfect or done just right something terrible will happen or they will be punished.
#Counters and arrangers are obsessed with order and symmetry. They may have superstitions about certain numbers, colors, or arrangements.
#Hoarders fear that something bad will happen if they throw anything away. They compulsively hoard things that they don’t need or use.
Which one are you?
ODC - OBSESSIVE is the challenge for Tuesdsay 27th May 2014
"7 Days of Shooting" "Week #9” “Odd One Out" "Macro Monday"
i wish my friends much fond memories, good times and uncontrollable joyful laughter...may it never end!
-john louie
These two young boys became almost uncontrollable, with the sights and sounds of the May Day celebration at First Thursday in San Pedro!
#Selfieproject number 26
Idea from @Elyboubou , because sometime I wouldn’t mind cloning myself to work on that project. So I did. And I am kind of uncontrollable so I had to tie myself up. And shut me up.
This photo is available for purchase at www.AuroraHunter.com
Autumn was here. Ahhhhh. After a typical crazy Alaskan summer it's always nice to see darkness return to the skies - and with it, the Aurora! This years fall project was to explore the Kennicott area in the Wrangell / St. Elias National Park. Built in the early 1900's on a huge copper deposit, the Kennecott Mill Site (note spelling difference) has partially withstood the test of time...and partially weathered into a captivating ghost mine with a very nostalgic allure to it. The artistic appeal had me hooked, and with it, an uncontrollable desire to photograph the Aurora dancing over the rustic red structures. It was going to be a treasure hunt.
On a September backpacking trip I didn't get lucky with the Aurora so October 1st found me once again driving down that 60 mile stretch of gravel road from Chitina to the McCarthy area. I parked at the Tram Station and now had to face a dilemma. After crossing the footbridge over the Kennicott River, how was I going to get 2 weeks worth of food and gear, probably a 150 pound load, up the little 5 mile gravel road to Kennecott. At this point I struck a great fortune - the operator of the Tram Station offered me his Subaru, which was on the other side of the river. Yes! (Thanks Randy!!). The vehicle also served as a huge bear-proof container to store my food in. I threw my sleeping pad in the back and that Subaru became my home away from home.
On that very first lucky night, the treasure was uncovered. I drove up the hill to the mine, found my favorite northward viewing angle, set up both tripods & cameras, and cooked up some noodles. The sky was clear, and just as I finished up my meal, a green Auroral band materialized out of thin air, right over the mine! It got brighter and brighter....then faded....then returned with a few of its friends and soon four bands were dancing through the Big Dipper and over the mine. A full moon in the sky lit up the snow on nearby Mt. Donoho and on the surrounding Wrangell Mountains, but the mine was just not quite catching the moonlight. I thought it might be like this so I had thrown in my million candle-power spotlight. I plugged it into the Soob's cigarette lighter, and after clicking the camera shutter open, I would 'paint' the buildings with a beam of light for several seconds. I experimented a lot since this was the first time I've tried this technique but was quite happy with the results. From the very beginning this whole experience was truly treasurable and the photographic reward is depicted here in "Kennecott Treasures."
I love seeing random things that make me laugh and I send them to my friends for a laugh and get a few in return ..., I am grateful for laughter..... ;)
People have begun destroying random buildings across the whole city. Police are trying to stop them, but are mowed down by the crowds. What is left of Bowlly City's government takes action and makes hard decisions by ordering soldiers to open fire if situations become uncontrollable, as some have been. Everything is going exactly according to the plan, as John Marcus had predicted and revolution is unstoppable.
The woman on the left was laughing uncontrollably. I have a different shot that shows her better, but some guy blocked most of that shot.
San Luis Obispo, CA
My lovely assistant and girlfriend, Jessica, helped me out on this one. I love the look on her face and the fact that her hands aren't on the wheel. That, combined with the angle, makes it look like the car is speeding backwards uncontrollably. I wish I could've gotten her more in focus though
Basanta Utsav literally means the 'celebration of spring'. ...
Annually celebrated in March, the festival is an occassion to invite the colourful spring season with utmost warmth. What is appreciated is the grace and diginified manner in which Vasant Utsav is celebrated in Bengal as compared to uncontrollable Holi witnessed in most parts of India.
The beautiful tradition of celebrating spring festival in Bengal was first started by Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore at Visva-Bharati, Santiniketan.
For days I’ve wondered about making one last Pizza Hut order—a final reach for what was before embarking on what is. Should I take away, like usual, or choose delivery? On my wife’s advice, I chanced pickup and nearly dropped the pies on the way to the car. Marketing messaging on the box caused me to laugh uncontrollably. Oh, and I desperately needed the chuckle, as do many more of us. “March Madness”: How ironically appropriate for circumstances.
The SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)—better known as COVID-19—pandemic is upon us. As I started warning family more than a month ago, the contagion is a transformative event unlike anything experienced by human society for many generations. Everyone’s lifestyle will change. The world we knew is gone. Poof!
While intellectually grasping what could happen, I still wasn’t emotionally prepared for what has happened since the first day of the month: Hundreds of thousands of identified infected people (with millions more coming). Hospitals overwhelmed by the seriously sick. Closed K-12 schools and colleges/universities. Depression era-reminiscent stock market crash. Shuttered stores, bars, and restaurants. Millions of newly unemployed Americans (and many more expected). Cancelled business, cultural, entertainment, and sporting events.
Among the latter category: Last week, NCAA canceled the 2020 men’s and women’s basketball tournaments—better known as March Madness—because of the Novel Coronavirus. Yesterday, I asked a Pizza Hut employee about the event-promoting boxes, and (unsurprisingly) he said that they were already printed and need to be used. But they are still deliciously appropriate. Because this March has been nothing but madness.
BTW, picking up the two medium pies—Super Supreme without black olives— was a kind of insanity, too. I ordered online and prepaid, using a credit card, expecting to rush in, grab the food, and go. But no! I had to sign a charge slip. The cashier handed me a pen that could have been used by any number of infected customers—and he managed to brush my fingers with his hand in the process. How maddening! Until “Fuel the Madness” made me laugh.
Returning to the Wilcox domicile, I learned that California’s governor had issued a state-wide directive ordering everyone to state at home. Lucky, I didn’t wait another day on Pizza Hut. Or unlucky, if in breaking our personal quarantine, I was infected at the store. That’s the kind of March Madness, I would prefer to avoid.
Another restless night. She doesn't know any other sort of sleep. She doesn't always wake from sleep during the night, but often the act of sleeping is more tiring than not sleeping.
Her dreams are, by turns: disturbing, hilarious, heartbreaking, nostalgic, violent, melancholy, full of love, full of anger and frustration, sad, arousing. Sometimes they are all that at once. They are always vivid and full of passion, whatever the overarching sense is.
Sometimes she wishes she didn’t feel things so intensely, even in sleep. But when friends or family tell her they don't dream — or at least they don't remember their dreams — it makes her feel sad for them. She would never want to stop dreaming, or to stop remembering most of her dreams. Despite all the ways her body physically ties in knots during the night. Despite all the ways her mind mangles itself as her eyes flicker under their lids in the dark. She would never will that other world away; want it gone.
The tension in her muscles. The ache in her bones. The tangle of nerves under her pale skin as her body physically responds to what is happening in her dream (or is the storyline in her dream dictated by the sensations in her resting body as it recovers from the previous day, week, months?)
She feels the emotional and mental sensations of her dreams through her body as she sleeps and wonders that it remains mostly prone while she’s unconscious. She wonders that she doesn't wake up physically entangled by her bedsheets, imprisoned in them, given the way her mind and heart often feel when she wakes from dreams in tears or in anger, her throat dry and hoarse as though she’s been screaming or yelling in reality as well her imagination.
From time to time she’s awoken by her own voice, albeit trapped in the back of her throat. She wakes to uncontrollable tears. To shaking; to breathlessness or ragged breathing; to unutterable fear and a racing heart. That one time she woke to laughter, her own, opening her eyes to find her partner staring at her through the morning light, incredulous at the sight of someone laughing in her sleep.
She dreams of sleepy, but impassioned, entanglements as her body lies beside another. So vivid that when she wakes to find them breathing deeply, sleeping soundly, she’s startled it was just a dream. The pleasurable ache between her legs lingers for long moments after waking, making her question everything around her.
Most nights her body temperature rises. She sleeps lightly clothed, aware that too much material close to her skin will cause her to overheat. Will cause her to wake in the night, her hair a damp mass encircling her neck, strangling her.
Other nights she shivers, feverishly, though the night be mild. Conscious of the need to add layers, she nevertheless dreads uncurling herself and unwrapping herself from her bedclothes to venture into the fresh night air to find more clothing. She curls into herself, knees drawn up to belly, elbows and wrists aligned, cupped hands clasped together and nestled between neck and pillow.
She dreams of houses she's lived in and those she can only dream of living in. She revisits houses she's never physically stepped foot in, but that she remembers from other dreams. Houses of many rooms, and many corridors twisting and turning. Lavish in parts; derelict in others. She makes her home in them or moves from them. Oftentimes they unexpectedly fall apart, become derelict, or she simply finds herself evicted.
For months before and after travel she dreams of planes and missed flights; of being far from home; of uprooting her life yet again to other shores.
She dreams of family long gone as though they weren't. Those dreams are often the hardest, as it's like saying goodbye all over again as she wakes.
She learned years ago that if you force yourself to wake from a bad dream to escape it, you need to fully wake, rouse yourself completely from the dream, or you will fall back into the same dream. But if you are woken prematurely from a beautiful, pleasurable dream, you can never just fall back into it, no matter how you let your mind run over the memory of the dream as you fall back into slumber.
Her mind is a tapestry to be woven then picked apart. An embroidery to be carefully created with fine needlework only to be tattered with sharp blades. It creates its own reality, then breaks it up into a million pieces. All within a matter of hours. Every night.
From the website: For when you just want to SMASH, while keeping your complexion flawless! Translucent green-tinted powder helps counter the appearance of redness caused by sunburn, rosacea, uncontrollable mindless fury, et cetera.
This powder is suitable for all skin types, but recommended only for use on reddened areas. Includes silica for diminishing fine lines and imperfections, and rice powder and kaolin clay for oil absorption. Do not use on lips.
Ingredients: serecite mica, rice powder, kaolin clay, silica, chromium oxide, iron oxide.
Personal Comments: This is a really cute creative touch from the Shiro team - a green finishing powder inspired by the Hulk! The formula is beautiful, which isn't surprising given the good reviews I've read about the brand's "normal" finishing powder. It's downright silky on - even on my dry skin, I can feel the difference between skin where I've applied it and bare skin, and it doesn't look powdery at all.
Let's talk about the color, which is intended to cancel out redness. For reference, I am quite pale with warm (yellow) undertones, roughly NC15 in MAC and Sleek Korat in Meow foundation. My skin is very dry and has a lot of natural redness, including red undereye circles, a few red pimples, and post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation. Needless to say, I was excited to try this product! I tested it on half of my face with no other products to get a sense of what it did on its own. It did seem to help neutralize some of the inherent redness in my cheeks, but didn't seem to do much for my undereye circles and red pimple. I dusted the powder over the rest of that half of my face as well just to see what happened, and as you'd imagine, I looked a little green. I was kiiiiind of able to blend down the green color in places where I overapplied it, but I think using a light hand only in red areas is the best method here.
I'm undecided on this product. I'd like to test it more in conjunction with my normal foundation routine. What I do know, though, is I will definitely be picking up a sample of the brand's white finishing powder. If the formula is just as good as Always Angry, it'll be a jar purchase for sure!
Kristin adds: I agree with AG. Usually green tinted products are a brighter green shade so that it not only cancels out redness but also has a brightening effect (since the red shade is also probably a bit darker than your normal skin tone). I thought that this finishing powder did a good job at canceling redness but the grey in the powder made the areas much darker and was difficult to blend out. This would probably be best for people with very slight redness and when applied with a very light hand.
www.indieknow.net/2014/06/collection-spotlight-shiro-aven...
Carolyn says "Hi", while I check out the roof for the first time since it was modified during the mid-2000's building of our addition. Due to the terrain, there are parts of my roof you can only see on Google Earth -- unless you go up there. After sliding down the roof uncontrollably on more than one occasion, I stopped going up there as much a few years ago.
To make the most of the expedition, I took the camera and also bought roofing cement. The stuff smells horrible -- like hot asphalt -- and you can smell it from 50 feet away for awhile afterward. It can only be washed off of your skin with paint thinner (which says not to put on your skin). You can see where I patched 2 nails to the left of the ladder, at the edge of the roof. I basically used half the bucket on every exposed nail head, every crack, and on all the edges of the chimney flashing (which really did flood once when our builder screwed up the roof -- see video of the 20060625 indoor rain at www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybwRtTmOXtU ). Originally I was going to nail in a roofing safety harness bracket -- a $160 fall harness + bracket I bought online, so as to not fall off my roof and kill myself -- but my stud sensor was unable to sense the joists through my shingles, so I had to abort that project. But that's what the roofing cement was originally for -- keeping the holes I was going to put in my shingles from leaking into roof. Instead I just used it for general roof upkeep.
So anyway, after all that, Progressive drops us for the condition of our roof ("curling shingles"). Of course, we survived the hurricane JUST FINE with zero water in our house, proving that Progressive Insurance are ASSHOLES. These shingles are not in perfect condition, but the roof sure as hell does not need to be re-done if it is functioning just fine.
Also since then, additional gutter guards have been deployed, and they are uniformly and 100% covering the front gutters at least. Had to cut some into custom-sized pieces to get full coverage.
Carolyn.
Homesite insurance, Progressive insurance, gutter, house maintenance, ladder, roofing cement, shingles.
Homesite insurance sucks. Homesite sucks. Progressive insurance sucks. Progressive sucks.
roof, Clint and Carolyn's house, Alexandria, Virginia.
June 15, 2011.
... Read my blog at ClintJCL.wordpress.com
... Read Carolyn's blog at CarolynCASL.wordpress.com
I am awarding myself extra marks for not only finding a security mirror inside a smelly car park stairwell which is two urban checkboxes for the price of one but finding one that gets me caught on cctv as I'm taking the photo which is a bonus multiplier or something.
Bangle made from scrap clay. I love the uncontrollable and unexpected pattern I get when I play with the scrap clay.
I got up this morning at 4:30am. We took Jasmine for her morning hike and then I headed over to the humane society to pick up my dog for the walk.
I didn't choose wisely...ending up with a 95 pound Airdale mix. He proved to be totally unacceptable.....pulling my arms off...barking at other dogs and just being totally uncontrollable.
I ended up "exchanging" him for this extremely calm and sweet Cocker mix.
It was overcast and cool...perfect weather for the walk. It broke my heart to take him back to the shelter. I do hope someone adopts him soon.
UPDATE:
"Nick" was adopted by someone later in the day after the fundraiser. Woo hoo !!!
Excerpt from "Gaz',Quenn of the Desert"
by Domenico Quaranta
(full text available at front desk)
Come Together (April 2007) explored the concept of the fusion of bodies. The work is a pedestal surrounded by many coloured balls, which in Second Life represent sexual relations. By clicking on these, the avatar is transported onto the pedestal, where it merges into the bodies of the other visitors, in a series of uncontrollable random movements. Once more symbols are subverted, and the parody of a real action (sex) is converted into a kind of fusion with synchronized movements only possible between avatars.
Posted by Second Life Resident Torley Olmstead. Visit Locusolus.
Story Time.
It was Christmas of 1999. I remember giving that Christmas the title of “Best Christmas Ever,” for one reason only. Because I got the Jessie doll from Toy Story 2. I held it in my hands and thought in my head of how much fun I would have playing with her and my Woody doll. And my Mr. Potato head… And my Bullseye the horse… And my Rex the dinosaur. I had them all.
Apparently, I had my career choice picked out at the early age of six. I was constantly asking my mother how I could become a cowgirl and make a living off it and be like Jessie. A simple doll that was a character in a movie had such a profound impact on me. My mom even bought me the Toy Story soundtrack, and I would dance around my grandparent’s house where my mom and I lived, in red cowgirl boots, my Jessie shirt, and a denim skirt.
Countless days were spent in the living room playing with Woody and Jessie. My grandpa spent all those days with me, and our playing adventures would last the whole day. Jessie and Woody would go on thrilling adventures on top of the piano, under the couch, or wherever my grandpa and I would take them.
My grandfather was my best friend. He was retired, and spent the days taking care of any needs my sick grandmother would request, and playing with me. When he smiled, there was something in his eyes that made you want to hug him, and when I was with him, my imagination took flight, as I laughed and laughed at the different voices he gave each of the dolls. At the age of 67, he was still running around the house playing Chase with me, and still going to fitness point every morning, and taking his daily swim. He came back one day, eager to share the exciting news that he saw a man who looked just like Buzz Lightyear at the pool. He had “the minuscule spiral beard and everything!”
I grew older, and my Toy Story phase rubbed off. I lost my Jessie doll, and eventually my Woody got misplaced along with the other toys. I always made sure I kept my dolls and stuffed animals in my room though. Ever since I moved up the street to the house I live in now, they’ve been sitting in a wicker basket in a corner of my room, watching the days go by, watching my interests shift, watching me grow older.
Today I went to see Toy Story 3. I was excited, remembering ten years ago how obsessed and infatuated I was with Toy Story. I only had to wait 11 years to see how the trilogy resolved itself.
I have never cried so hard at any movie, I have never taken any movie so seriously. Every time one of the toys would get hurt, or get thrown on the ground by an evil daycare child, my eyes would get really big, and I would grip the arm of the movie theater chair.
For those who have not seen it, I don’t want to give away the ending. For those who have seen it, you know what I’m talking about. You know the ending. By the time they get back to Andy’s house, and find their way back, I started tearing up. But by the end, when his car drives off, I am sobbing uncontrollably. I remembered what it was like to play with my now 76 year old grandpa in the living room every night, taking Jessie and Woody on new adventures. I remembered why I loved Jessie so much. I remembered youth, and how much I valued it, and still do. Watching that movie was like watching my life. I got home, and my mother opened the door, to see me crying on the doorstep. She cried too and we just hugged for a long time. Until she asked me what we were even crying about. I explained the movie, which wasn’t the best idea, because she was crying all over the place at that point.
I don’t even know what it is. Maybe it’s all the memories with my grandpa. Maybe it’s how I’m growing up but don’t want to. Maybe it’s how different things are with my grandparents now that my grandma is very sick. But I got upstairs, and took out my stuffed animals and dolls and just sat there looking at them for a long time. Then proceeded to add, “Jessie Doll,” to my birthday wish list.