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When I last asked for questions about Britain or the U.S., Dan Antion wrote, “The last night I was in London, I had some kind of gooey toffee desert (sticky something). I wrote my friend in Ipswich and said, ‘why did you send us the Beatles and keep this a secret?’ but he never replied. This makes me think there’s a law against describing that dish. If you choose not to write about this or toffee, I’ll understand (but it will confirm my suspicion).”

Never one to be scared off by sensible considerations or petty legalities, I’ll tell you everything I know on the subject. And more. Much, much more.

Irrelevant photo: a volunteer cyclamen that planted itself by the back door

It sounds to me like Dan stumbled into an underground club where sticky toffee pudding was being served on the sly. While he was on the pavement humming…

“Essence”
Painting by Timothy Fleming
From fineartamerica.com

what binds you to me
I don’t know you
we’re in no way alike
we share no close blood
wear different hued skin
speak separate tongues
hold dissimilar soils
in the crease of our hands
pray discretely our rituals
calling God unalike names

what binds you to me
doesn’t our marked disparity
minimize any loose ties
of a broad shared humanity
making distinctions of culture
and clan our definitive essence
perhaps it’s our shadows who
know the wise answers but
how can I ask when I can’t
tell which shadow is mine

*******************

“An emancipated society would not be a unitary state, but the realization of universality in the reconciliation of differences.” – Theodor Adorno

“Well, are you ready for a fairy tale?”

“Oh, yes!  Things have been so depressing lately.  Tell me a good one, Uncle Fox!”

“Once upon a time, there was a future President who was born deep in the African savannah, under the acacia trees.  From the time he was a little boy, it was his goal to bring the Islamic faith to the American nation.  As a young man, he made the long, perilous journey from Kenya to America.  His Marxist mentors were already waiting here for him.  They subjected him to the toughest kind of mental training, until he was turned into the perfect instrument of subversion.  When he was ready, his handlers helped him infiltrate the Senate.  Little did the American people know that a fascist dictator would soon be unleashed upon them…”

“But I thought he was a Marxist…”

“Shhhhh!  Don’t ruin the story!  Remember, this is…

“I think we Brits are a bit short on things to celebrate at this time of year,” DoneDreaming wrote when I asked what people might like to read about. “With Thanksgiving coming up I wondered if you could give us the lowdown on how we could join in. Do we Brits have what it takes to re-instate Thanksgiving over this side of the pond?”

Well, as every card-carrying American knows, the most important element in a Thanksgiving dinner is canned pumpkin, and—shock, horror, and I hope I don’t create in international incident here—it’s not sold in British supermarkets.

Okay, all you Americans who buy a prefab pie, settle down out there. I’m not bad-mouthing you or your pies or your dinners. My mother did the same and she was a wondrous and wise human being. Not a great cook, but if I had to choose between the two qualities…

I get Ben Carson’s deal. He wants to be a badass in the worst way.

And when his actual life story didn’t score enough badass points, he gave it a little more juice, moving himself from spectator to perpetrator, wisher to doer. For most people, being a world class brain surgeon would probably be badass enough but not for Dr. Carson. He had to have come from a really rugged, dangerous place, overcome a lot more than the MCAT (Medical College Admission Test) and 24-hour shifts as a resident. That would be plenty badass for me, working around the clock, saving lives, drinking black coffee, sleeping on a cot in the supply closet like Dr. Kildare. And then there was the separating of the conjoined twins. Super badass in my book.

But I have to admit, it would be even more badass if Dr. Carson had really tried to stab…

This time I will share some of my pictures that I have taken during  Elena Shumilova’s workshop and edited for this blog. To those who haven’t read my previous posts about the workshop, there are two links:  http://inesemjphotography.com/2015/10/23/back-to-the-north-inishowen/ and  http://inesemjphotography.com/2015/10/30/elena-shumilovas-dream/

To start with, I want to make it clear that I have never had any intention to copy Elena’s style, but I did wonder how she makes all her images to look so warm and alive, and how she brings every single detail of her composition to perfection.  I wanted my photographs to be perfect too :). I did learn some of Elena’s techniques, I came home enriched and joyous,  but I know that it is just a beginning of a magic journey, where hard work and inspiration walk side by side.

Elena’s workshop encouraged me to use my painting skills in my photography – something that I do very seldom, and only…