Rose of Sharon.

a. Astute readers will notice I’ve completely dropped “Fucking” from the title to my Floral Friday posts. Selah.
b. Yesterday I promised a further rant about the seduction of foolish buyers. I’m gonna pick that up later, maybe, but not today.

1. I’ve added Philosphool to my blogroll. This nascent blog has lots of upside potential, and I hope everyone gives art_prof, the proprietor, a look. She’s already adopted our bad habits of listing movies, books, etc., and so can’t be all bad! Never enough good blogs.

2. Yesterday we got out the bikes and rode to Racing Beach, about 7 miles one way. We ambled up and down the shore looking for sea glass, talking, holding hands a bit. Total of about 2 miles walking. On our way home we stopped at a new raw bar (they call it “Raw Bar”) at Falmouth Harbor. Nice airy place. We scarfed a half-dozen Wellfleet oysters (is a common word modified by a proper adjective supposed to be capitalized?), she had a beer, I a diet Coke.

3. In the evening we went to Hyannis for dinner. We were treating my Honey’s long-time friend Jewell and her wonderful father Everett (that was also my Honey’s dad’s name). This was in celebration of his 94th birthday. A lovely man. He taught us to play cribbage, and we’ve enjoyed the game ever since. We ate at the Road House. Place was jammed. Food was good. I seldom eat restaurant desserts, but I indulged in a sorbet and berry treat. The sorbet was the best I ever had, passion fruit flavor. A very nice evening. Jewell taught both of my Honey’s kids in elementary school.

4. Back to the beach. It was a twoblueday for us on glass patrol. It was also a (much rarer) two red day. Red glass is not found often. The two pieces we found yesterday were not as “fully developed” as we’d like, and we do maintain standards. We brought both home, but only one will probably get to stay. If we bring a piece of glass home, then reject it, we put it back into the deep blue sea (or, as we put it, “back into the factory”).

Petunias.

. . . but where will they roost?

Today I read that home foreclosures are up 55% as compared to last year.

I also read today an article from the Orlando Sentinel.

Greed has been the primary cause of job loss in this country. Greed was, in my opinion, the major factor in the “mortgage crisis.” Gordon Gecko was wrong. Greed is not good. Were there foolish buyers? I suppose, but don’t let that distract you from the truth, Amerika wanted foolish buyers, cultivated foolish buyers, and got them.* Foolish buyers did not cause the crisis, but, safe in our nice houses, we can rail against them (if we are so inclined). I can go to my fridge for a nice cold glass of juice, selecting amongst what is stashed in there, and watch my HiD TV, and think what I want, but the heavies in this story are the banks/lenders. The “derivative” security moguls. Don’t worry though, they’ll land on their feet.

Seminole County is one of Florida’s smallest, geographically. It is now, in great part, just another section of the Orlando megalopolis. I have read that one section of the county is (or was) the highest earned-income demographic in Florida (not to be confused with the trust-fund-inherited-wealth of Palm Beach). Wealth and poverty are crammed into and share this corner of America. The wealthy parts consist of gated communities, with shopping and private schools nearby. It’s a very short bike ride to the other side of the equation.

If you haven’t glanced at the link above, here’s a clue: it’s about homelessness, and, in particular homeless families. “Homeless Families” means, largely, single mothers and their children.

The article I linked to is not my first clue that homeless families are numerous. The local media have covered the story before, showing tent “villages” out in the woods (we have lots of woods in Central Florida). They interview mothers, recently ensconced in the “middle class,” crying helplessly and hopelessly. Yeah, it’s all very sad.

I didn’t start out here to preach. Here’s what I meant to say: When I get home in a few weeks, I’m going to find some way to put some energy into helping the homeless. Exactly what direction this will take, I don’t know.

*I think I’ll rant about “foolish buyers” and our country’s cultivation of them in my next post.

Penguin at the Mystic Aquarium.

1. Woke up about 5:30 today to the sound of thunder and heavy rain. Been pretty stormy the last couple of days. I actually like rainy weather for some reason. Well, one good reason is that I don’t have to waste water on the gardens!

2. Honey’s Bro’ and his daughter came to visit yesterday. Every year about this time my Sweetie takes this girl (16 now and driving!) out for back-to-school shopping. We figured that at this age she’d be over it (not the shopping, of course, but shopping with her aunt). Not so. They went off to Hyannis while I spent the day post-processing photos and napping. Bro’ was off fishing in very rough seas, with my Honey’s cousin. They stayed for dinner and headed back to Worcester. She had to work today as a lifeguard.

3. I persuaded the teenager to pose for photos for me. I am terrible at taking pictures of actual living human beings, so I’ve decided to practice. In keeping with my usual procedure, any pictures I post of her will be only on Flickr, and only visible to those designated family and friends. NOTE: I read this later and because the Web is what it is, I hasten to add that this teenager posing for me meant she sat on the porch steps, and in a chair on the porch, in full dress and in view of family. I realize that in our times, saying I got a teenage girl to pose for me could be misconstrued.

4. I’ve been avoiding serious topics lately, in part because, well, I just get tired of allowing myself to worry about stuff I can’t do anything about. I have no interest in the political process, which has, as usual, devolved into really inane TV ads. As to who is qualified to be President of the United States of America, one thing is sure: Nobody with a lick of common sense is qualified.

5. So, staying in the un-serious vein, how about that Johnny Edwards? In terms of expressed ideas while he was campaigning, I kind of liked him (especially when he beat up on the insurance industry–a bunch of leeches and a drag on society). It never surprises me when powerful men screw around on their wives, and that they lie about it. It was ever thus. Just once, instead of the phony-baloney “mea culpa” speeches, about “making a mistake,” and “feelings of invincibility,” I’d like to hear one honest man say: “Man, that girl was hot and I really wanted to f * * * her. So I did.” I’m sure Bill Clinton will give Edwards the names of the cretins he turned to after he got caught, you know, “ministers” and “counselors.” Therapy and Counseling, the twin hideouts of every famous person who gets caught being a jerk, a criminal, or both. Maybe Mr. Edwards has a “sex addiction!”

6. I did watch the men’s relay team beat the trash-talking Frenchies. As little as I enjoy the endless hours of Olympic swimming coverage, this was certainly dramatic. Of course, the Press was all over how this preserved What’s-His-Name’s shot at umpteen medal (which, they say, will be an “historic” thing if he gets them. Whenever they say “historic” I get queasy. Do they mean the event ranks up there with, say, freeing the slaves!? Idiots!). I don’t think those other 3 swimmers were particularly thinking they were the Greek chorus for this guy (it’s early, I can’t come up with his name. More Coffee!).

Oh, yeah, Mark Spitz was apparently whining that he wasn’t “invited” to this “historic” Olympics! What? Translation: I want to be in the limelight a bit and get a free trip to the Olympics. Hey, buy a ticket, pay for a hotel and go if you want. What a jerk. Yesterday’s news, this guy.

7. Babycakes started first grade, that’s bigger news for me than all the tinhorn pols and egocentric athletes.

8. I’m reading The Fatal Shore, a non-fiction tome about England shipping criminals to Australia. The hardships and cruelty are chilling. Also, the “class” consciousness of the Georgian and Victorian Brits is appalling.

9. I’m running out of gas here. Not much to relate. Feed the birds. Water the hanging plants. Eat, sleep.

10. So, have a nice Tuesday. Wake Up!!!!!!!

This is an image I took looking through the glass at the Beluga whale exhibit at the Mystic Aquarium. It is not as high in quality as some of my photos, being shot through somewhat dirty glass. I liked the effect of the reflections on the underside of the water surface juxtaposed with the view above the surface.

I really don’t have much on my mind today.

Somebody made a frog from Sprite cans, and it appears here in Mystic during the sidewalk Art Fair. Usually I make an effort to clear the background of clutter in my photos, either by how I position myself to shoot, or by the magic of Photoshop. In this case, I thought it best to include it.

A fellow Flickrista mentioned that there would be a sidewalk art fair in Mystic, Connecticut, over the weekend, so we decided to go. We made a mini-vacation out of it. We drove down to Mystic on Friday afternoon, went to the aquarium (mostly I wanted to see the Beluga whales there). We drove into town to get the lay of the land for the next day, assuming the place would be mobbed and parking would be at a premium. After a short walk, we drove to Foxwoods and stayed overnight at the new MGM Grand. We had a very nice expensive dinner in their steak restaurant. Each offering of beef on the menu told whether it was grass-fed or corn-fed, and what ranch it came from. Pretty much the same with the side dishes. We indulge in pricey meals rarely, and hope we feel we weren’t ripped off when we do. We did not feel that way at this high-priced lucullan feast. Every one of the staff was delightful, professional, and effecient. I tried a zinfandel I’d never had, and it was tasty. Yummy! I probably forgot to mention it cost a lot of money. After dinner we did a bit of gaming (no non-smoking rule in that joint!).

Up in the morning and back to Mystic. We got there early, and parked as we had plotted the evening before. We had a pleasant breakfast and toured the show. The weather could not have been better.

The lift bridge over the Mystic River is right in the middle of town. The art show was on both sides, but the bridge only opens once an hour, at twenty ’till. The day was gorgeous.

There was a mix of good, bad, and indifferent art, with the usual smattering of crafts and jewellry. There were several photographers, a couple of them quite good. We bought nothing.

We took the scenic route home. We went through Watch Hill, Rhode Island, and up the coast to Wickford (on Narraganset Bay) because my Honey wanted to visit a stamp store there (remember, she has her own such store in Florida). Bit of traffic onto the Cape (Saturday is when the renters come and go, so lots of cars festooned with bicycles and kayaks and such). It is also Falmouth Road Race weekend–many thousands run from Woods Hole to Falmouth Heights. “World Class” runners attend, and the only suspense is which Kenyan will win. It’s an odd distance, like 7 miles.

I want to do a bit of editorializing here. The cost of the two of us to go through the Aquarium was $48.00. We did not go into the Mystic Seaport feature, we had been there before, but it would have cost us, together, $37.00. Both of these attractions are wonderful places for families to go, but I really wonder how they afford it, especially if they are from a distance and need lodging. The Aquarium had a pissant little aviary they’d added, mostly full of parakeets and lorikeets, not much variety, and it was an additional $2 to go in there. There are much better aquariums in the USA, and these do not nickel-and-dime you. These joints make Disney World and Universal Studios seem like a bargain (higher price but so much more to see). Okay, rant over.

Morning Glory, originally uploaded by twoblueday.

 

Looks like a fine day for flowers.

Skiff and footbridge, Bourne’s Pond, Cape Cod.

I have previously mentioned that I get comments from “Pearl.” These usually involve Pearl telling me, in abusive, coarse, and vulgar language, that it disagrees with me about everything, and that I’m a waste-of-skin liberal lawyer, and that I should rot in hell, etc., blah, blah. I have deleted most of its comments, and enjoyed editing/bowdlerizing one of them recently. It occurs to me that this entitiy “Pearl” reads my blog for no other reason than to aggravate itself, and to get some sexual satisfaction from berating me. Well, my blog is here for all to read, and to curse with vile oaths.

If “Pearl” thinks it is getting under my skin, it is wrong. It is providing me with some amusement, thus pleasure. “Pearl” has no blog to reply to, and has used a number of different e-mail addresses all of which are, I suspect, either phony or stolen. (The blog-Trolls tend to be cowardly like this).This last time I did fire off an email to the probably false email address which came with its comment, saying (please forgive me my female friends) “Don’t they have pills for PMS?” I guess I assumed that it, “Pearl,” was female for the purposes of that pretty puerilie response. I assumed all along the message would just bounce. It hasn’t yet, and now I wonder if whoever it stole the e-mail address from is puzzled by the strange message. In the interest of fairness, I’m going to quote “Pearl’s” latest diatribe (I will never again allow an unexpurgated/un-edited comment by “Pearl” to appear in the comments section). So:

“So, just shut down your useless blog ! You’re just another arrogant, lawyer who made our world more complicated, risk averse, and loaded with tiny print disclaimers. Just spend more time with your shrink to deal with the depression”.

“Pearl” left out the epithets, oaths, curses and vile imprecations this time. It was responding to my post “Quack.” I find it ironic that mindless snipers such as “Pearl” accuse others of ruining the world.

Oh, welll.

Duck on a dock.

Sometimes I think the best thing to do with my blog is just post pictures. If I dare to comment on other blogs I should restrict myself to “Nice picture” if they’ve posted one, or “Right On!” if they’ve said something.

I say this not because of any specific thing which has transpired, but because I should have learned by now what a shitty medium the internet is for communication at a personal level. People who interact live and in person have a wealth of information to work with in assessing others, and understanding what they say. Here, just the words. No smiles, winks, nudges, hugs, pheromones, “body language,” or other non-verbal traffic to lubricate the exchange of views. I have taken offense where none was intended (at least I hope it wasn’t!). Others have taken offense I didn’t intend.

Yesterday, I found I had been, over time, bothering someone with my comments. I have a sort of “emperor’s new clothes” view of anything I see done in the public sphere by those who make it their business to want to attract mass attention, my attention (or, not coincidentally, separate me or others from our money). It matters not whether they are politicians/public officials, entertainers, athletes, “news” people (or was that covered by entertainers), musicians, writers, or anything else. At bottom, I really like, respond well to, anything done which exhibits the spark of the extraordinary, the superlative, the “divine,” if you will, the creativity of the human spirit. But I don’t say “great” when I mean “okay.” I don’t say “splendid” when I mean “don’t give up your day job.” Simple competence is not excellence, and I’m not gonna say it is.

In my personal relations with peope, the few I seem to allow myself, I do not demand much. Kindness, warmth, a bit of tolerance for my foibles. These people are not looking to make money off my attention, or to satisfy a lust for public acclaim. A shared meal, a laugh, discussions of the daily transactions of life, that’s all.

So, I found myself, in this online world, this “blogosphere,” looking to extend the “personal” part of my life. Maybe I was hoping for some of the benefits of, dare I say it, “friendship,” without the level of effort and commitment necessary for knowing someone “in the flesh.” There’s no free lunch, though, and that’s a lesson I seem to have to re-learn. all too often. Maybe it’s me.

So when I say something negative (”that movie sucked,” “that book was a waste of ink”), I forget it isn’t automatically leavened with the other aspects of my personality. Every “you didn’t do that very well,” is accompanied sotte voce, by “and I think you could do better, there is more in you,” and, indeed, other non-negative emotional and intellectual content. But, of course, as I discussed above, all anyone here sees is me putting something down. I doubt if I’m going to adopt a writing style in which I include paragraphs of disclaimers for every simple statement of my point of view, but I should understand better that if you (any person interacting with me) sit around on the porch with me and share a bite, a sip, and shoot the breeze, you are going to have a sense of all those disclaimers, those ameliorations of my pronuciamentos, but if you just read my blog, and my comments on yours, you are not.

So.

I don’t know the name of these flowers.

1. Yesterday was errand day. Nothing particularly odious, just a few stops to make. I’m gonna cheat and spread them out so I get my Ten Things in. A beautiful windows open day, but for a couple of passing showers.

2. The Post Office. Up to the East Falmouth Post Office to mail some pictures. A nice lady was at the Barnstable County Fairgrounds when we went to retrieve our entries. She approached and said she really liked my Best of Show photo, and was wondering if she could barter something to me for it. The lady who runs the photography aspect of the fair said we should discuss it outside her hearing, so that my amateru status wasn’t impaired. Her definition of a “professional” photographer is anyone who has ever sold even one photo (and I’m not sure I disagree). Anyway, I told my admirer that I’d happily make a print for her and send it to her with no recompense of any kind. She admitted admiring one of my other shots as well (a Blue Ribbon winner). I made the same offer. So, yesterday, we mailed her the prints. My Honey went into the tiny room where the postal clerks serve the public, and I waited in the other room where the PO boxes are. A couple of other folks were also in there when a lady drove up in a big, black, 500 series Mercedes. She checked her PO box, then paused to tear up some items of mail into tiny pieces and throw them in the trash. She announced to all within earshot that “you’ve got to shred everything, illegal immigrants are stealing our identities.”

3. The Birdies. I was out of bird seed, so we stopped into a store called “Just Birds”or some such thing. We had not been there before, but it was convenient. I bought not only a big bag of food, but another “squirrel proof” feeder. I provide much food to the birdies through the summer, and love to watch them. Sometimes they stand in line waiting for their turn. Mostly goldfinches, chickadees, sparrows, nuthatches, titmousies, house finches. Some bluejays and crows try to eat, but the feeders are not really good for them. After I put up the new feeder, our local cardinal (the builder of our house named him “Louie”) fed a couple of times! Cardinals are, I’m advised, usually platform feeders.

4. The Drugstore. Not much excitement here, but we did have some coupons and saw some sale items and “saved” over 18 bucks. While we waited in line to check out, a second register opened and the clerk said, “Next in line, please.” Well, a lady about 4 places back in line jumped over to pay for her stuff. I find this stuff laughable, and the others in the queue did too, it seemed. No riot ensued. I guess these minor agreesive victories provide the rude perps some measure of self-affirmation, and who am I to complain? Pissant aggression/competition is sort of the norm these days, anyway.

5. The Scannell House. I had taken our friend Brenda around Sunday evening to get photos for her garden club. We went to several houses which had been selected for recognition. Yesterday we took prints to her (I have a pretty decent photo printer here). This led, of course, to some socializing, and more pictures, one of which you see above. I know this family via my Honey. They both had sons at the same time, and they are both named Matthew, and they lived on the same street. Wonderful family.

6. City Hall. We have some trees we want to trim, and one which probably has to go completely (disease). So, we called a tree guy. So, you need a permit. So, we have applied for said permit. Well, a hearing is scheduled on our application for Aug. 13. We got an email asking for more info and a “certified plot plan.” We had a small site plan, and we took it in. The friendly environmental clerk said we needed a more elaborate plan showing not just our house and lot but adjacent wetlands, etc., etc. (requiring hiring a surveyor) Hmmm. We paid $60 or so for the permit application. A survey would cost who knows how much. We talked further with the clerk, and it turns out she had assumed we were immediately adjacent to wetlands. We said there’s a little dirt road between us and the wetlands. She took our little site plan and said maybe it would do after all. All this is somewhat burdensome and complex, but, hey, am I a Greenie or what? Most people just whack away. The tree trimmer guy, after telling us the appropriate procedures, said that the old “better to get forgiveness than permission” deal wasn’t such a great idea. Big fines for un-permitted trimming.

7. Box Lunch. Great roll-up sandwiches, now featuring whole wheat bread. We go there often, we treated ourselves yesterday.

8. Dahlias. They’ve been prolific. They need to be watered frequently. They need to be dug up and stored in the winter. Thank goodness, it rained.

9. Brett Favre. I think I’d rather hear about Britney Spears, Branjelina Brats, Kirsty Ally’s waistline, the shipping news from Bremerhaven, or pretty much anything other than ol’ weepy eyes “comeback.”

10. Today. In for car maintenance. That would be in Hyannis.

Later.

Continuing with yesterday’s photographic theme. This shed or playhouse is on the grounds of one of the cottages in the campground in Oak Bluffs, on Martha’s Vineyard. Note the bunnies.

Another of my early wake-ups. Rose about 5:00. Fog horn going, of course.

I am in a sort of strange mood lately. Things are bothering me. Petty, pissant things. I work very hard to bite my tongue, knowing anything I find frustrating is unworthy of mentioning. Mostly to my Honey, who the hell else do I talk to?

Yesterday we kayaked in Great Pond. We paddled all the way inland to my Honey’s old house on English Street, facing Perch Pond (one of the upper arms of Great Pond). Her family (meaning her parents and the two kiddies, Honey and Brother) were Worcester people, and began coming to the Cape over 50 years ago, I gather. They had more than one house over time, including the one occupied now by Honey’s son who won’t speak to her (since the divorce, truly, that’s another long, sad story, not for today). The house on English Street we have driven by. It looks neglected from the street, and, I can now testify, it looks neglected from the water. The nice dock it used to have is gone, the grounds are slovenly looking, the siding needs paint. Anyway, it was a nice outing, a bit of exercise, and I spent the rest of the day in sloth and idleness.

We rented “10,000 B.C.” on pay-per-view last night. Fluff.

I’m pondering the matter I found offensive on NHFalcon’s blog, and whether I’m overreacting. I’ll consult an expert.

Truly just rambling here today, ain’t I?