A Rainy Day

Miscellaneous Unseen Images of 2008: Have you seen this? The making of a photo album after the road trip. I didn’t know if I showed this or not. I never did get the image to fade out properly while the type stayed dark black. Later on, I had great struggles with all my pictures being light until I remembered to reset things back to the defaults.

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Himself: It was a “He had to put up with me,” day, and “He” was a very kind G. It was a “he” decorated day too. Herself: The morning was ok, but after lunch I was in total agony. Some IBS button got pushed, and I was a quaking, miserable, lump. Powered down water as I guessed it was the mixed up fiber therapy that did me in. Mucho better but not cured this morning. I’ll stay quietly at home in the rain today drinking water. Imagine, rain. Balance: Making it a quiet day. Yesterday Dinner: Using the slow cooker to solve my thorough tiredness with cooking. Put two recipes together….(since I didn’t want to cook 6 one-inch thick porch chops for six I did a roast): 2 ½ pound boneless pork shoulder. Mix and pour over it: 1 cup orange marmalade, 1/3 cup Dijon mustard, and a little crushed thyme. Cook on high 3 and ½ hours, low 10 hours

The year is shrinking rapidly. I have volumes of badly shot images that no one has seen, but little time left to show them. Golly gee.

While I was staying as immobile as possible yesterday afternoon, G was up and down on ladders hanging his oversized lights on three levels of the house. After a quick trip to Longs for new light bulbs, we now find ourselves decorated and lit up for the season outdoors too.


Photo G: Does one corporation really think they can switch one whole city from black clothing to colored stuff thru marketing. Speaking of oxymorons.

I actually got the upstairs organized so I can find all the stuff that needs mending. Only recently did I discover that the mending was winning. There’s a dress to have the shoulders lifted, a button needing sewn on, a sheet that needs lengthening. A quilt that needs a seam ripped out. Small things, but gee, they pile up with a magic rapidity when one hand doesn’t work. And I’m the one who said she would do these things.


Now here is a truly poor shot of the Jeremiah O’Brien. No class at all in this shot.

The trees begin to move in the wind now. The streets are damp. Tires hiss on the wet pavement. I take a moment to run downstairs into the cold house and start the pot roast in the slow cooker. Later today, while I have my nose pressed up against the glass, maybe I can catch an image or two of the rain as it rolls across our desert city.


Walking to work: The Callan Hotel, 2007. Another boring shot, but a record shot of our vanished Chinatown.