June 30, 2014 § Leave a comment
My mom grows beautiful flowers, and her peonies are among the loveliest of her blooms. A bouquet of pink and white blossoms from her garden is nearing the end, but it’s still stunning.
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What I’m reading this week, including a series on World War I from The New York Times. I won’t get to all of the new pieces and archived articles, but it’s definitely worth a look if you are as fascinated by that era and the senselessness of the war as I am:
- “Facebook Adé” by Ida Hattemer-Higgins (n+1, June 24, 2014)
- “Fulfillment” by Luke Finsaas (Monkeybicycle, June 30, 2014)
- “The Great War: A 100-Year Legacy of World War I” by various journalists (The New York Times)
- “Let Them Eat Cash” by Christopher Blattman (The New York Times, June 29, 2014)
- “The Right to Write” by Roxana Robinson (The New York Times, June 28, 2014)
- The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen (1978)
June 29, 2014 § Leave a comment
June 26, 2014 § 6 Comments
June 25, 2014 § 6 Comments
Sometimes we (i.e., I) believe life’s daily disappointments and hassles foreshadow gloom and doom for the rest of our day, week, or life because the grocery store didn’t have our favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor on the first day of our period or no one liked the Glamour Shots photo we posted on Facebook. (Glamour Shots still exists, right? Or am I dating myself?)
I’m certainly guilty of overreacting to the tar-like goo life bubbles up my metaphorical drain, but I try like a happy bunny to make lemonade out of it.
Like the time I (accidentally) flushed every key I owned down a gas station toilet. Sure I panicked. Sure I couldn’t quite believe there wasn’t somebody the cashier could call to come on over to take the toilet apart and see if the keychain just might be stuck underneath the bowl rather than well on its way to a Duluth waste-water treatment plant. But when the realization that every last key was gone (gone!) along with my pride, I laughed, impressed I had a good tale to share for years to come.
Alas, I don’t have a colorful story to explain the nonexistence of the photos I wanted to shoot tonight — a night when the mighty Mississippi River is hours away from cresting and memorable shots throughout the Twin Cities are ripe for the taking.
My cupboard is bare because I forgot to turn off my camera last night and drained the battery. I didn’t know it until I arrived downtown to take my historic, sure-to-be-award-winning photos. I looked through my lens and was met with a sea of black rather than plants and buildings and street lights and bike paths and staircases being swallowed up by the river. I even said my first and middle name out loud, just like a parent who finds his or her daughter holding scissors in one meaty fist and a long ponytail that’s not her own in the other.
And, in a moment reminiscent of sending my keys down the sewer all those years ago, I dropped my car key on a platform edge mere centimeters from the murky depths of the Big Muddy, and I wasn’t in the mood to see the humor in it this time around. But the gods cut me a break, probably feeling awfully mean about the camera battery and all, because, miracle of miracles, I managed not to kick it into the rising river when bending down to retrieve it.
Luckily, my iPhone was at hand, but my photos of the flood are mediocre at best, and I leave it to you to do a search online for better pictures.
But if you’re in the market for a before-and-after photo of a jazzed-up thistle, then you’ve come to the right place: