Years ’n’ years ago, I owned VW Beetles of the 1974 Super variety. Two, in fact, both the color of Crayola Sky Blue. Made one a pet project- removed the interior- all the seats, panels, ceiling, carpet, hardware, windows, seals, etc. Stripped and sanded the exterior down to the metal to build it back up again- primer on up. Had art cars on the mind at the time (still do)! The first paint job sits on the bottom and the redo sits on the top- complete with many a glued gem in going for a perma-raindrop-esque kinda deal. I’d love to do another someday- something wacky and outlandish, possibly clever! ♦
I don’t like not writing and sharing, at the very least, a little. Been trying to post on Instagram the last few months and I’m awful at it. Have had an account for years lying dormant, so thought I’d (finally) give it a go, but after a time, ten likes feel the same as fifty and who the heck cares.
I’ve a backlog of photos I’d like to post that were supposed to find their way to Instagram, but I haven’t tended to business. Yet. I’m more concerned with the photos I’ve let pass by in recent times like the car key that landed perpendicularly onto the elevator crack. Had it landed parallel (onto it), a photo wouldn’t have done any good in capturing the abyss beyond.
I made some pretty nifty zombie heads in jars to celebrate a Walking Dead themed work celebration that deserved a pic or two. Zombies used to scare the poopella outta me, blame it on the release of the 1990 version of Night of the Living Dead. The plodding methodical body with no mind to reason with nor to outmaneuver. Zombies were second only to anything in a mask. Obscure the eyes, cover the nuance of movement upon the face, leave nothing to be “read”? Michael Meyers embodies both the methodical plodding AND an engulfing mask. Love what you fear.
Oh, and that time the engine nearly fell out of my car wiping the oil pan out entirely and was salvaged only by a portion of a passenger-side floorboard. That was meant for a photo, but I was just glad to not have injured anyone. Now a mere two weeks later, all is again safe and up to speed quite literally. My lovely little Beetle lives on.
Did manage to capture my favorite gift wrap job from a mucho talented friend.
And I’ve taken some holiday photos for the sharing. Christmas feels like a marathon this year and I’m one pie crust behind. A different kinda tree here, a bit of a Charlie Brown up and off the ground so Julian’s little body can have free reign to move about without fear of a tree mishap, like accidentally donning the thing. He’s not a cat after all (resists temptation to post video of felines harassing holiday foliage).
Speaking of little bodies, I’m an aunt! Sure, I have a little over five months more till we meet, but aunt, I am. Bean calls the baby Button. There’s much speculation over whether Button is a boy or a girl, and I say, “Don’t worry, we’ll ask her when she gets here.” Yes, Bee, Bean and Button.
Still wondering where I belong in the world overall. Thankful for the pockets I fit here and there. Wish I had an everloving clue on where to look and what to seek, cuz it’s getting late(r) in the game, and it’s all going so fast. ♦
I was in the drive-thru at McDonald’s recently. (Hey, it happens.) The cashier told me to pull forward and they’d bring out my order shortly. There was a monstrosity of a truck in front of me already awaiting their order as well, but I see that if I ease just close enough, the lady behind me can pull forward to the window and proceed in picking up her own order. Sure, she may have to wait a moment to pull away just as I do, but food in hand is a win. While she tends to the transaction, I look down to my phone on which I access the book I’m reading currently. I hear honking and look up to see the woman from behind now attempting to pass me and the truck ahead in the less than adequate space adjacent us. She’s got an ice cream cone in her right hand that she intermittently licks from and is shaking her left hand at me angrily. She’s mouthing stuff about a phone.
Does she not see the monstrocity of a truck barring my/our way?
Does she really think I’ve stopped short in the drive-thru line to play on my phone?
With two hands clearly busy, just who is driving her forward-moving vehicle?
I wanted to vindicate myself, point out I was reading a “book,” I’m not a phone fiddler, and I’d done her an intended favor by creeping forward enough to allow her to gain access to that everloving ice cream, but no, I accepted the fact, it was really just a dragon situation. ♦