Alice in Wonderland

Here's a picture of my big girl and her two little sisters. Lydia's a great babysitter to them when we're out--responsible and a good decision-maker!

Under the Bridge

Lest one might have begun to think my blog featured lots of color (see Tulipalooza), I thought it best that we restore order by throwing in a dash of gray.

Tuliptopia

Macbeth's Spaghetti

Okay, you food bloggers out there: Would this photo work for your blog? Or, is there too much thought of death here and too little thought of culinary delight?

Just askin'.

It

What Lies Beneath

Andy D: Welcome to the Bean, my friend. I think you'll like this place. Anyone who's been fully beanstalkered never looks back.

For what it's worth, this photo nicely captures how I truly do view the world most of the time.

Christy refuted (once again)

So Christy, you can't see this and say I don't take my kids to fun places, like this park with scenes of yummy Chicago being devoured by bizarro long-tongued red creatures and plastic dinosaurs.

Wait, I didn't take them here.

Still, they BEG me to take them to art museums. That's a lie, they don't.

Still. I definitely take them to fun places.

Like art museums.

Building emerging from a rock

1451 feet into the clouds

This will forever be the Sears Tower in my mind, not the ridiculous "Willis" Tower. As my dear father-in-law would say, "Come on! Gimme a break!"



I considered calling this photo, "Eraserhead."



And some flags in the wind for you pleasure sans crazy-a$$ hair.

Glass, wood, and woman ascending

I completely forgot about these photos from over a year ago, and when I went to the AIC this year, I took yet another set of photos of a woman in this same area.

Hmmmm......not only am I not original in my photos in the broader world, I'm not even original within my own photo sets. (I'll display those soon.)

Four eyes

Photo of my image reflected at the base of a (middle-sister) Lindholm vase. The solid glass of the base reflected a separate image from the hollow glass at its core.

I wasn't going for creepy. Creepiness goes out of her way to seek me out.

Railing

The statue is the same, captured from different perspectives. These photos are a year old. I have a lot of catching up to do.

Bounce

Though this shot is just over a year old, Lydia looks so much older now. Sigh....

Divided

More reflections. These taken exactly a year ago today when I took the kids to the Hunter Museum of Art in Chattanooga. There is a fabulous piece of art that's essentially nothing more than a billion and six little mirrors. I'll be posting more in a day or two (and perhaps I've already posted some already).

Four Square

I'll likely take this photo down. I like the idea of it but I just executed it poorly. Lots of clutter I didn't think about in the photo. I had the camera over my head so I just guessed what would be in the screen, so I suppose I'm lucky to have captured what I did. Still, luck don't make it good.

Happy fractures

Taken (against rules, natch) at a certain art gallery in GA. My kiddos and one of their friends from school. Lydia is barely discernible on the far right side about two-thirds of the way up the photo.

Self-portrait

My most insightful self-portrait! (Or not. I don't know.)

Remorse of a hearing person

Here below is my revised and sanitized discussion on the hearing impaired:

"If genetics are determinative, someday I’m going to lose my hearing. My attachment to Led Zeppelin and Radiohead will surely prove counterproductive in my future struggle to forestall the inevitable.

The end."

Rabbit of prey with murdered victim

Yet again we regrettably note that rabbits are inextricably associated with death--and death of a particularly gruesome and grim variety. Last summer I was minding my own business at the Montgomery Museum of Fine Art, thinking my typical cheerful and well-adjusted and positive and upbeat and encouraging and life-affirming thoughts when, tragically, I happened upon this bird-destroying (and presumably bird-devouring) work of art.

Prior to this experience, I had always considered rabbits as hapless victims of murder, as exemplified--if you recall--by my mother-in-law's cruelly realistic depiction of a rabbit in its last frightened moments, shivering in terror in a pool of its own blood.



Since that time, I've noted the theme of rabbit death in countless other works of art. Why are artists so cold-blooded, so fixated by poor Bunny's death?

I do not know the answer to this question, and this makes me sad in my heart.

But here at least, we see the rabbits are not taking their deaths lying down. They're fighting back. I was shocked by this particular rabbit's brazenness.

Artists, lock your doors at night. Because it starts with birds, but who knows who their next victim may be!

Thoughtful reader Andy D. reminds us that history is replete with examples of killer rabbits. You likely recall when President Carter was attacked by a trained bunny assassin. This photo of the event was released only after he scurried from office to take refuge in his rabbit-proof bunker.



And here is a rare film capture of one of our most notorious killers, a medieval rabbit of profound unholy intent.

In memory of Hank

Hank (AKA "Hank the Tank" and "Hank the Happy Dog") was the dog--more puppy than dog, really--of Andy D. and his wife Tracey. Hank has a special place in my heart not only because he was the sweetest, happiest, most loving, most rascally dog one could ever want, but also because he was the dog that taught my youngest daughter Nora that she need not be afraid of (all) dogs. Dogs can be good, and Hank the Tank was a terrific boy. When Andy D informed us the other day that because young Hank was suffering badly from cancer and slipping quickly and they had to let him pass, Nora was, along with one of her sisters and one of her fathers, simply torn up inside. So in honor of that lovable rascal Hank I decided to put together a little tribute to him with some happy (if also tender) music.

Nora told me that "Dad, I hope they get another dog as nice as Hank, but you can't replace Hank." She also told me that she loved Hank for four reasons.

1. He always remembered her and her sisters when they visited.
2. He was always happy.
3. He was always loving.
4. She taught him how to dance.

Admittedly, I have no idea what she means by this last point, but it's neither the time nor place to interrogate her. I'm sure she did teach him how to dance.

The last thing she said was, "Dad, I want to keep Hank in my heart."

Me too, honey. Me too.