Sidetracked Charley

Magique Pointing a Bird Magique is not a pointer. She is supposedly a retriever mix - Standard Poodle and Labrador. But like her owner sometimes she just gets a wild hair. A couple weeks ago I decided to go back to freelance writing. I used to do a lot of it before the infamous head injury. It was a good way to make money from home. Well, mostly from home because generally at some point you have to go out and do some footwork. The local newspaper wanted a freelance writer and it seemed an easy and painless way to find out if I could still do it. I do, after all, keep a couple blogs going. But it is a bit like sourdough bread. The first batch is a bit difficult because you have to get the mother started. And then reacquire your skills in kneading, etc. And before I just did the articles or the photographs. Very seldom both. not easy to handle a camera and a pen and notebook and remember what it was you were going to ask the person standing before you. And with a local newspaper...

Don't know that we had a spring. And some would argue we didn't really have a winter. The lack of moisture seemed to have effected everything. And when it came at last it was as if nature wanted to cram all the months past into one week. Friends are even already reporting the leaves of Aspens turning gold. In the last week there has been a nip in the air mornings. Hoodies are again my morning computer time attire. And I washed the lap blanket for my legs. Time soon to dig out the house slippers from where ever they have lost themselves. Knowing me and them, under the computer desk or the easy chair. Which brings me to fall cleaning. And the often endless list of to do's before the snow flies. There is talk of an early winter. And this year it is not just my end of summer tasks but those of a neighbor recently widowed. We debate what she wants to pay me for vs what I would do out of friendship. With luck we will have an Indian Summer and lots more time to get it all ...

The Darkness Lording it Over the New Studio Construction I so miss her My black cat slinking by in the shadows silently always there Watching over me The Darkness. J. Binford-Bell August 2013 With Wee Willow her misses her too

It has been a dozen years since I began my first online journal on the now extinct Y!360. It was more than a blog and less than a chat room. And in spite of my proclamations to the contrary more than a social network. I made some long and fast friends and some not so fast as it were. And as Yahoo brought it to a close we followed each other to various other social platforms to stay connected. I came here because of its blog capacity and not its social networking. It took me a while to miss my ethernet friends that migrated to Multiply and then to Facebook grumbling all the way. I miss Y!360 still. It was a unique experiment and not everyone's cup of tea. But those of us that loved it have not been quite happy with anything else we find. And too many have learned to grumble all too well. When the dictators come out and think they can reshape the social platform and those on it I escape to the quiet of my forest - my blog - where I can do what it was I first sought the blogos...

I know it was week 32 because I do that 365 Day Photography challenge weekly blog on Creative Journey . Though I must confess I recently double checked that because I was pulling photos out of a folder marked week 33. That all probably comes under the category of TMI - Too Much Information - for those out of the texting loop. It was a week about completion and rain and flowers. It was about rediscovering my garden. Seems to have gotten along without me quite well. Hail storms had necessitated the replacement of the plastic cover. While at that task I opted to put a double fold of the old plastic just across the top to help cushion the other plastic and add more protection from hail. The squash plants have developed a powdery mold which I am told will respond to aspirin dissolved in a misting bottle and sprayed on the leaves. I harvested Swiss Chard, Collard Greens and Kale which I chopped and blanched and then frozen in an ice cube tray. These cubes are to be used this winte...

Vietnam Veterans Memorial Chapel I was one of the generation which found the rituals of our parents no longer valid. We are the Vietnam Generation. How sad our lives should be defined by a war. Some of us went to war and some of us went to war against war. A lot of us in our way questioned the older generation and its wars and rituals. And now we are that older generation. Many of those who fought in Vietnam and survived their tours of duty are now dying because of exposure to Agent Orange. It is bringing us all to places we thought in our youth we would never be. Friends and clouds gathering We celebrated the life of Steven Ryan Oliver on what would have been his birthday. Steve would have been the first to tell you he did not want a funeral. He was a Buddhist and a Vietnam Veteran. No doubt he faced the possibility of a death in a nameless jungle in a country we all did not know existed until our friends started vanishing into it. Just another missing in action. But he ret...

One thing good about the last one or two months is I found that the excuse I do not have the time is just that - an excuse. I am amazed myself with just how much I have accomplished over and above my normal tasks and chores and agenda. No, not everything on the todo list is done but like I discovered in college, the smaller the window of time open the more I got done. The biggest time waster is a whole day off. And listening to other people explain in detail why they do not have the time to meet you for lunch or drop off the check or pick up a bag of sugar for you when they're in the store. This week I probably bordered on rude to long winded explanations about lack of time. "Do not let me keep you. Bye," and hanging up works wonders. Course I may never hear from these people again but they already explained they do not have time so no loss. I am more than willing to "waste" time on friends as long as it is not on listening to why they have no time for me....