My run today took me across an expanse of concrete beside the train tracks, I think a former staging area? There was a large Band-aid on it, as if over a wound, a wound in the concrete. I'm imagining the determined child who saw the concrete's boo-boo, went home, got the Band-aids out of the medicine cabinet, and came back and applied it. Or maybe the child was walking with an adult who happened to be carrying some emergency bandages, just in case.
So then I was wondering what caused the wound. It would have to be pretty small, in the scheme of things (the staging area is quite large), for one Band-aid to cover it. An adamantine-tipped arrow? But who shot it, and why? A single acid tear, from some sorrowful alien of the type that has acid body fluids?
It only makes sense if the staging area I ran over is some large creature, floating in the ground with just a flat flank exposed to the air. It can rise up from the earth like a muskrat or otter from the water. Someone with an arrow wanted to slay it, or its old friend the alien came to cry on its shoulder.
Something like that, and the child is its friend. The Band-aid has healing properties.
So then I was wondering what caused the wound. It would have to be pretty small, in the scheme of things (the staging area is quite large), for one Band-aid to cover it. An adamantine-tipped arrow? But who shot it, and why? A single acid tear, from some sorrowful alien of the type that has acid body fluids?
It only makes sense if the staging area I ran over is some large creature, floating in the ground with just a flat flank exposed to the air. It can rise up from the earth like a muskrat or otter from the water. Someone with an arrow wanted to slay it, or its old friend the alien came to cry on its shoulder.
Something like that, and the child is its friend. The Band-aid has healing properties.
rainbow glitter and photo preservation
Feb. 26th, 2018 10:22 pmI thought I'd do a messages-in-bottles writing prompt tomorrow, which meant I needed to collect a bunch of bottles, so after work I just walked the main drag near where I live, and sure enough, turned up PLENTY of little nips bottles.
I cleaned them and covered them with glitter. Fingers crossed that the writing exercise goes okay.

I didn't post that image directly into Dreamwidth. I posted it to Flickr instead and then copied it from there into here. I pay for both my Flickr account and my Dreamwidth account, but Flickr is solely for archiving photos, and it has much more storage available, and this is an issue because in three months I'll cease to have a paid LJ account--I'll still crosspost there (for a while anyway), but there's no point in paying for both it AND Dreamwidth--which means I'll lose access to any photos that are stored there. That turns out to be quite a few photos, so right now I'm engaged in the cumbersome process of taking any images that were stored there and storing them here, instead. Otherwise, come May, bunches of entries will suddenly have little question marks where once they had pictures.
It's a weird process. I'm working backward from the present. As I do, I'm unlocking all my back entries, which somehow, when I poured LJ into Dreamwidth, came over as friends locked. It's kind of melancholy making. I'm only back in 2016, and I've had a journal since 2006.
I wonder what I'm doing, a little. Why does this even matter? ¯\(ツ)/¯
I cleaned them and covered them with glitter. Fingers crossed that the writing exercise goes okay.

I didn't post that image directly into Dreamwidth. I posted it to Flickr instead and then copied it from there into here. I pay for both my Flickr account and my Dreamwidth account, but Flickr is solely for archiving photos, and it has much more storage available, and this is an issue because in three months I'll cease to have a paid LJ account--I'll still crosspost there (for a while anyway), but there's no point in paying for both it AND Dreamwidth--which means I'll lose access to any photos that are stored there. That turns out to be quite a few photos, so right now I'm engaged in the cumbersome process of taking any images that were stored there and storing them here, instead. Otherwise, come May, bunches of entries will suddenly have little question marks where once they had pictures.
It's a weird process. I'm working backward from the present. As I do, I'm unlocking all my back entries, which somehow, when I poured LJ into Dreamwidth, came over as friends locked. It's kind of melancholy making. I'm only back in 2016, and I've had a journal since 2006.
I wonder what I'm doing, a little. Why does this even matter? ¯\(ツ)/¯
A card for Mrs. Escobar
Feb. 19th, 2018 04:15 pmValentine's day just happened, but this little valentine was apparently given to Mrs. Escobar not in February but in June--June 2011.
That year, Mrs. Escobar must have been reading A Cup of Friendship (my book group's next read)--it was the year the book came out. Alina gave one of those pictures that switch between one scene and another depending on how you tilt them (this one is either one elephant or several), pasted on a small piece of paper and with a pink heart colored around it.
Mrs. Escobar stuck it in the book and lost it when it got returned to the library. But that was six-and-a-half years ago. The book surely circulated after that. Everyone else who borrowed the book left it in?
Or did Mrs. Escobar maybe only read the book a few months ago, using an old card from Alina as a bookmark? And then the bookmark was returned with the book?
I think I'll leave it in the book too. It can be a treat for someone else to find. Mrs. Escobar, Alina, and all the future readers of this copy of A Cup of Friendship


That year, Mrs. Escobar must have been reading A Cup of Friendship (my book group's next read)--it was the year the book came out. Alina gave one of those pictures that switch between one scene and another depending on how you tilt them (this one is either one elephant or several), pasted on a small piece of paper and with a pink heart colored around it.
Mrs. Escobar stuck it in the book and lost it when it got returned to the library. But that was six-and-a-half years ago. The book surely circulated after that. Everyone else who borrowed the book left it in?
Or did Mrs. Escobar maybe only read the book a few months ago, using an old card from Alina as a bookmark? And then the bookmark was returned with the book?
I think I'll leave it in the book too. It can be a treat for someone else to find. Mrs. Escobar, Alina, and all the future readers of this copy of A Cup of Friendship


parking lot treasure
Jan. 30th, 2018 11:23 pmThe parking lot at the supermarket was thick with road salt, as if they're expecting a storm, but I don't think there's a storm coming.
It's not much to look at in this photo, but: all the white spots are salt crystals.

It was so beautiful up close, like gemstones:

You might gather them up and count yourself rich, only to have the dissolve if--well, if what? If you kept them in a velvet-lined box you'd probably never be the wiser. But if you tried to set them in silver or gold to wear at your neck or wrists, you'd be in for a sad surprise.
It's not much to look at in this photo, but: all the white spots are salt crystals.

It was so beautiful up close, like gemstones:

You might gather them up and count yourself rich, only to have the dissolve if--well, if what? If you kept them in a velvet-lined box you'd probably never be the wiser. But if you tried to set them in silver or gold to wear at your neck or wrists, you'd be in for a sad surprise.
A wise old woman gives you an item...
Jan. 21st, 2018 11:33 amA wise old woman gives you an item. She says it is very valuable. Why is it valuable?
Here are five items and eight interesting answers to the question: A wise old woman give you an item.
Excerpts:
From Victor:
The old wise woman I seen at an antique shop came and told me what is it that I seek in her sanctuary of wisdom and knowledge. I said to her that I am seeking a lock to protect stuff I put away.
From Reniell:
One day I was walking down the street, and this lady walk up and said, “Here, have this. I can see that this item call to you.”
From Leshiara:
she wanted to share this beautiful shellfish with me cause she probably seen in me that she didn’t see in anyone else.
From Mario:
She said some magic words, Azarack Meteron Zinthos, as the gold started to glow.
Overhead doors
Jan. 8th, 2018 10:27 amA truck was pulled up in a driveway in my neighborhood. It said "Devine Overhead Doors." (Here's a photo from the company's website, if you'd like to know precisely what it looked like.) Now, it seems that "overhead door" means a garage door that rolls up, but my thoughts went like this:
Devine Divine Overhead Doors

It reminds me of one of the stories in The Ladies of Grace Adieu, where angels poke their heads out of windows in the sky.
In very slightly tangential news, I gave up on Every Heart a Doorway, not for any flaw on its part, but because I realized--belatedly--that I don't like sucking all portal experiences into one framework.

It reminds me of one of the stories in The Ladies of Grace Adieu, where angels poke their heads out of windows in the sky.
In very slightly tangential news, I gave up on Every Heart a Doorway, not for any flaw on its part, but because I realized--belatedly--that I don't like sucking all portal experiences into one framework.
macabre collections
Dec. 20th, 2017 05:16 pmSomewhere in the archives of the Bibliotèque nationale de France is this collection of ever-blooming sound-flowers.

(Photo by Joseph Redon, originally posted on Twitter, and sent to me by Wakanomori)
And in the tower Great St. Mary's Church, in Cambridge, England, someone has stashed a collection of hangman's nooses! Or so it seems, but actually those are the bell pulls, for ringing the church bells. Still. Who knows what nefarious things may have happened in the tower while the bells were being rung?

(This photo courtesy of Wakanomori, who was there for a conference recently and climbed the tower.)
early morning, Thanksgiving Day
Nov. 23rd, 2017 07:39 amWhen I went out this morning, the sun was just leaving its nest of trees on the horizon-woods, shining golden white. Stretched across the sky were the white ghost-bones of some giant fish, an ancestor fish--the waters of morning revealed those bones. At the houses playing host this Thanksgiving Day, cars were clustered quietly, like sleeping pups or kittens. High up in a tree somewhere, one bird was calling; on the ground, just a few leaves and chipmunks were scurrying.
I found a golden fairy shoe, so tiny, but I was running, so I didn't stop to pick it up. If it's still there later in the day, and I get a chance before taking my portion of the feast to my brother's house, I will take a picture.
ETA: Two pictures of the fairy shoe--the second is to show how tiny it is.


I found a golden fairy shoe, so tiny, but I was running, so I didn't stop to pick it up. If it's still there later in the day, and I get a chance before taking my portion of the feast to my brother's house, I will take a picture.
ETA: Two pictures of the fairy shoe--the second is to show how tiny it is.


Our secret stream (and phallic tower)
Jul. 4th, 2017 10:40 pmTwo posts in one day? Why not!
Wakanomori took me to Holyoke's secret stream, which runs beneath Interstate 91. There's a park there, but these boys preferred the actual stream (so did a chipmunk and an oriole I saw).


At one end of the present-day park is a closed roadway that leads up into an overgrown, abandoned park. If you climb up and up, you reach this tower that looks like it took its design cues from rude graffiti:

You can climb up a literally falling-apart concrete spiral staircase on the inside of the, uh, shaft, and up top there is a glorious view of the surrounding countryside. Which I didn't take a picture of! I was too busy recovering from the hair-raising ascent. Fortunately, Wakanomori took a picture. He also obliged me by taking pictures of the words of wisdom inscribed there, and of some of the community-created artwork at the base of the tower.
View of Mt. Tom in nearby Easthampton

Wisdom

Art

Wakanomori took me to Holyoke's secret stream, which runs beneath Interstate 91. There's a park there, but these boys preferred the actual stream (so did a chipmunk and an oriole I saw).


At one end of the present-day park is a closed roadway that leads up into an overgrown, abandoned park. If you climb up and up, you reach this tower that looks like it took its design cues from rude graffiti:

You can climb up a literally falling-apart concrete spiral staircase on the inside of the, uh, shaft, and up top there is a glorious view of the surrounding countryside. Which I didn't take a picture of! I was too busy recovering from the hair-raising ascent. Fortunately, Wakanomori took a picture. He also obliged me by taking pictures of the words of wisdom inscribed there, and of some of the community-created artwork at the base of the tower.
View of Mt. Tom in nearby Easthampton

Wisdom

Art

not your everyday dumpster-diving find
Jun. 3rd, 2017 11:50 amThe reason I feel anxious when I dump off my papers in the paper recycling dumpster is because people like me will see interesting items and pull them out--as I did, yesterday. I was attracted by the fancy handwriting. The book in which it had been inscribed was falling apart, but I grabbed the first few pages to situate the dedication.

It might have been hard to decipher the name of the person who was making the inscription if it didn't happen to be ... the author of the novel!

Although he was writing under one of his many pseudonyms:

I thought the name "Erle Stanley Gardner" sounded somehow familiar--and a Google search told me that yes, indeed: he was the creator of Perry Mason and many other mysteries. Regarding his writing, the Thrilling Detective website says, "Although critics sneered and many felt that Erle Stanley Gardner was not a very good writer ... Gardner was one of the best selling writers of all times, and certainly one of the best-selling mystery authors ever."
Erle Stanley Gardner

source
Armed with this knowledge, and with some effort (and invaluable aid from Wakanomori), I take the dedication to read,
So who was Captain Frances--female spelling--G. Lee?
Well! She turns out to be Frances Glessner Lee, whom Wikipedia tells us is the "mother of forensic science"!
She had to wait until she was 52 to embark on the career for which she became famous, but at that point she inherited a fabulous fortune that enabled her to pursue her studies and endow departments of legal medicine, police science, and a library.
Further, Wikipedia tells us that "for her work, Lee was made an honorary captain in the New Hampshire State Police in 1943, making her to first woman to join International Association of Chief of Police."
a picture of her

source
And, Erle Stanley Gardner dedicated several novels to her.
... and somehow one that he'd sent to her himself, with an inscription, ends its life in a recycling dumpster in my town. I wonder who owned the book?
( an extra, on prisons )
In any case: not your everyday find!

It might have been hard to decipher the name of the person who was making the inscription if it didn't happen to be ... the author of the novel!

Although he was writing under one of his many pseudonyms:

I thought the name "Erle Stanley Gardner" sounded somehow familiar--and a Google search told me that yes, indeed: he was the creator of Perry Mason and many other mysteries. Regarding his writing, the Thrilling Detective website says, "Although critics sneered and many felt that Erle Stanley Gardner was not a very good writer ... Gardner was one of the best selling writers of all times, and certainly one of the best-selling mystery authors ever."
Erle Stanley Gardner

source
Armed with this knowledge, and with some effort (and invaluable aid from Wakanomori), I take the dedication to read,
To my friend and
instructor
Capt. Frances G. Lee -- Trooper Gardner reporting.
With all my love
Erle
Stanley Gardner
June 1958
So who was Captain Frances--female spelling--G. Lee?
Well! She turns out to be Frances Glessner Lee, whom Wikipedia tells us is the "mother of forensic science"!
She had to wait until she was 52 to embark on the career for which she became famous, but at that point she inherited a fabulous fortune that enabled her to pursue her studies and endow departments of legal medicine, police science, and a library.
Further, Wikipedia tells us that "for her work, Lee was made an honorary captain in the New Hampshire State Police in 1943, making her to first woman to join International Association of Chief of Police."
a picture of her

source
And, Erle Stanley Gardner dedicated several novels to her.
... and somehow one that he'd sent to her himself, with an inscription, ends its life in a recycling dumpster in my town. I wonder who owned the book?
( an extra, on prisons )
In any case: not your everyday find!
Crayola ... toothbrushes
May. 3rd, 2017 08:26 amLast night I was waiting to pay for some food at the supermarket, and ahead of me, a woman was getting two brightly colored toothbrushes, one purple and one orange, and I could see from the packaging that they were Crayola toothbrushes.
Crayola toothbrushes

Source: SmartPractice.com, a seller of medical supplies.
My first thought was, wow, that's a weird way to branch out your business. From 64-packs of crayons with colors like spring green, periwinkle, and raw umber** it makes sense to branch into colored pencils, markers, pots of paint, drawing paper, sparkle glue sticks--all of which Crayola has done.
But toothbrushes? My best guess is that someone on Crayola's innovation team said, "We're known for long, thin items. We're known for things parents associate with their children. Toothbrushes are long and thin, and parents want their kids to brush more. QED!!"
Expect Crayola drinking straws and carrot packs next.
Crayola will give you definitive names for the various colors in your carrot pack

Source: groworganic.com's page offering Peaceful Valley organic carrot seeds
**Don't you want a story about raw shadows? Raw how? EMOTIONALLY RAW of course.
Crayola toothbrushes

Source: SmartPractice.com, a seller of medical supplies.
My first thought was, wow, that's a weird way to branch out your business. From 64-packs of crayons with colors like spring green, periwinkle, and raw umber** it makes sense to branch into colored pencils, markers, pots of paint, drawing paper, sparkle glue sticks--all of which Crayola has done.
But toothbrushes? My best guess is that someone on Crayola's innovation team said, "We're known for long, thin items. We're known for things parents associate with their children. Toothbrushes are long and thin, and parents want their kids to brush more. QED!!"
Expect Crayola drinking straws and carrot packs next.
Crayola will give you definitive names for the various colors in your carrot pack

Source: groworganic.com's page offering Peaceful Valley organic carrot seeds
**Don't you want a story about raw shadows? Raw how? EMOTIONALLY RAW of course.
Princess of small creatures
Mar. 5th, 2017 12:19 pmLast Thursday
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)

So much story in there. I'm ready to like this lady of small creatures right away.
I got an email request to sign a petition
Feb. 22nd, 2017 11:04 pmLast night I got an email asking me to sign a petition (if you sign one petition, you will forever be sent these emails asking you to sign others) This one had the subject line "biggest petition for bees EVER," and my mind went in an odd direction:
Many are petitioning for bees, but our petition is surely the biggest. We really, really, really want some bees. We've petitioned three times before unsuccessfully, but this time, we collected signatures all winter. There is no one in a 50 mile radius who hasn't signed our petition. Even babies have signed. Even the newly deceased. We will be delivering our petition to the keeper of the bees tomorrow. It is our sincerest hope that this time, at last, we will be granted bees.

source
no more naked toilet paper
Apr. 26th, 2016 08:05 amI believe the unadorned form of naked toilet paper should be celebrated, not shamed into covering up, and yet-- a conversation with a friend this morning got me looking at the usually very frilly, and sometimes very creative, world of toilet paper roll covers. An image search revealed to me a world of Southern-belle-style covers. This is a particularly frilled-out version (Source evil Pinterest page):

Here's a sweeter one, with a homemade head (source).

But some people have let their imaginations roam in other directions:
Octopus (source)

Cupcake (source)

Duck (source)

It's a wild world of toilet paper covers out there!
[ETA: In 2018, only one link had died, but with time, no doubt more will. The Internet threatens to be forever, but all things are perishable.]
Large beasts of weather and sky
Apr. 21st, 2016 10:33 amI've decided to walk to work, even though I work at home.
On my walk today, I stepped in all the large potholes on my street. They are the footprints of some creature whose weight affects the asphalt the way mine affects wet sand. A winter-weather beast, a very large dinosaur or lumbering mastodon. Some kids once tried to charge admission to see them--the potholes, I mean--as a way of raising some quick money, but no one would pay because these dinosaurs and mastodons get everywhere. (No, I'm making that up; no kids ever did that, or at least not on my street, or at least not while I was paying attention.)
Up in the sky, wind has unearthed (... un-sky'd) the white vertebrae of an even larger beast that swims up there. Or maybe it's just that its sky is so thin that its bones are visible through it. I didn't catch it on film but you've seen skies like that--large backbones and sometimes ribs laid out across them.
But now I've arrived at work and should begin. Here's a skunk cabbage from last week, consuming its daily meal of sunlight.

On my walk today, I stepped in all the large potholes on my street. They are the footprints of some creature whose weight affects the asphalt the way mine affects wet sand. A winter-weather beast, a very large dinosaur or lumbering mastodon. Some kids once tried to charge admission to see them--the potholes, I mean--as a way of raising some quick money, but no one would pay because these dinosaurs and mastodons get everywhere. (No, I'm making that up; no kids ever did that, or at least not on my street, or at least not while I was paying attention.)
Up in the sky, wind has unearthed (... un-sky'd) the white vertebrae of an even larger beast that swims up there. Or maybe it's just that its sky is so thin that its bones are visible through it. I didn't catch it on film but you've seen skies like that--large backbones and sometimes ribs laid out across them.
But now I've arrived at work and should begin. Here's a skunk cabbage from last week, consuming its daily meal of sunlight.

I saw this yesterday. It's not really in the woods; it's at the back of someone's backyard, which backs onto the woods. But it looks like it is. The woodcutter was alone in the world after the untimely death of her husband, so she took her child with her when she went a-felling in the forest. She strung up a swing so the baby could rock and sway and converse with the squirrels and the birds while she worked. (They have red plastic in this mythical nevertime.)

