This one’s called, “I finally got my beach body.” 
Category: Uncategorized
Snapshot #8, I dunno
Can you say “Paradise?” Unfortunately, this one has been titled, “Studly Doright Has the Flu and I’m Sitting on the Balcony of our Hotel Room.”
Snapshot #8, I think
I love the names of Florida towns. I call this one, “If you can’t pronounce it, you must be in Florida.” 
Snapshot #7.5
I zoomed in on this photo of a faerie in my backyard. I’ve entitled it, “Contemplative Fellow.”
At the Car Wash
I took my Mazda into Tallahassee to wash several months’ worth of road grime away. The swirls and colors of the detergents were mesmerizing, so I began snapping photos as the car was pulled through the wash bay. I wonder if Jackson Pollack was inspired by a car wash?
The Obituary Writer
Absolutely wonderful piece by Ray Sharp. Read more at raysharp.wordpress.com.
Chapter 1
It was the kind of small town, and the kind of small-town newspaper, where people still read the obituaries. And he was the last real obituary writer; instead of replacing him, they turned the job over to funeral directors, who just filled in the basics — profession, church, hobby, survivors — a paint-by-numbers outline of a life.
But I’m already getting ahead of myself. He was the last, and he was the best. He wrote the best damned obits you’d ever hope to read. They were funny and sad and beautiful, suspenseful even, which was quite a trick when the title always gave away the ending.
And he was a real writer, to be sure, narrative arc and pacing, and, of course, character development, for what matters most after we are gone, for most of us good and ordinary folk, is not plot, but character. He had a…
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Virginia’s Voyagers
An important post.
I’ve written about my mother many times.
She was an enigma, the entire time I knew her. She was cool, gathered, quiet and definite. She was tailored and streamlined, her blouse always pressed and her seams straight. She was careful and spare. Her entire presence was like a cool cloth on a fevered brow. I will never know anyone as gentle as my mother.
When she died, she had Alzheimer’s. She had stopped cooking, golfing and talking. She stacked cans of beans and hash and then decorated the towers with Christmas bows. She kissed my father’s hands the night before she died but she had forgotten everything else about her life.
So fifteen years after she died, I am walking in the local Alzheimer’s Walk. I have no idea what took me so long to do this simple thing – of showing up, claiming her and her Alzheimer’s Disease, doing…
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Watching My Husband Work
watching my husband work at his job,
you know I love him so,
is somehow akin to watching paint dry
or listening to spring grass grow.
Explanation, Studly Doright called earlier and asked if I’d come to his office in Tallahassee so we can run some errands when he gets through with work this afternoon. Like an idiot, I said “yes.” So here I am watching him type and listening to him make major decisions via phone calls.
I did spot this oldie but goodie photo of the two of us. It was taken in ’04 at his office’s Christmas party in Orlando. Honestly I thought I was fat back then! Oh to be that fat again. I’m sad to report, Studly still owns, and wears, that awful gold sweater.
Numbering Things
I recently began blogging a series of photos I’ve snapped in and around Tallahassee. From the start I was super conscientious about scrupulously sticking to the truth: photo #1, #2, and so on.
Now, I’ve lost count, so I’m just labeling them willy nilly. Next up, photo 9,456, 785, 321.7. Enjoy.
I call this one, “A Pair of Keets and then some.” 
Snapshot #6
I’m calling this one, “Perspective is Everything.” I snapped it in the faerie department at a local nursery, gardening, and landscaping business.
Praying for Eyebrowz 