Archive for ‘nostalgic’

November 21, 2011

a memory

My first science experiement took place crouched in my bedroom closet. I was eight. I don’t know what posessed me to start mixing chemicals together but I believe it had something to do with ants. Dad kept trying to kill the fire-ants in the yard and never had much luck. None of the stuff he got at the store would work.

I didn’t understand this, considering my mother had warned me so often about Windex. She said it would make me have pneumonia – which I alredy knew made people die. Actually, she was probably just telling me it had amonia in it but I didn’t understand the difference. I figured those ants could get pneumonia from it too.

Determined to make something that would kill anything, I sneaked all sorts of bottles out from the cabinets – lysol, peroxide, iodine, baby powder, alcohol, dish soap, and of course, windex. I used the little dixie cups from the dispenser in the bathroom and created all sorts of concoctions.

At the annual Railroad Festival, Dad had bought me a wooden, screened in bug house and a butterfly net. I used it to trap all sorts of crawly critters to torture with my poisons. It’s really a wonder I didn’t poison myself, but I was careful not to breathe any of it in so I didn’t get pneumonia.

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September 5, 2011

Photo Tour: Small Town Mississippi

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The town isn’t run-down, I just looked for old things that made for interesting photographs. Though small, it was a great place to grow up – good people and a simple life. My feet stay on the ground even when my head is in the clouds thanks to a good ole’ southern upbringing.

Yup, this gal is made of fried okra and cornbread.

August 15, 2011

E.B. White – Jill Krementz Photo

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I would love to have this framed for my office – when my office is no longer packed with furniture because of renovations in the rest of the house.

August 11, 2011

Stealing Beauty

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Lucy longed for her Italian lover-to-be.

This afternoon while I was having a very unromantic, yet passionate, battle with the roots of some sort of gorilla-grass plant that has made it’s home in my front bed – my mind drifted back to a movie I watched when I was 16. Lucy’s poet-mother committed suicide and she bolted to Italy to find herself, and her father. The scenes were breathtaking. I wanted to go to Italy then and there. I wanted to be the emotionally raw and bright eyed Lucy writing letters to an Italian boy, and losing her virginity under an olive tree. The artist in me yearned, and the romantic in me had found a new, stubborn standard.

These little flashbacks remind me of what a wonderful journey this life has been – and how domestic this artist-heart has become. Main street and mainstream ways. The speed of life steals the beauty in our moments.

August 10, 2011

Writing and the Rain

Rain is thoughtful. Snow is peaceful – but rain is pensive and reflective. Snow wants a latte, and rain wants chicken soup.

It was understandably difficult to go to work today. Rain, after a ridiculously scorching summer, is distracting. It’s draws me inward and upward…reflecting and soaring. I’d rather spend the day barefoot and walking down the middle of deserted city streets; or sitting at the cafe across from the train station at 8am watching the commuter troops, armed with umbrellas and briefcases, pour off the arriving trains. People look proper while carrying umbrellas, and it’s more difficult to rush about on wet sidewalks. It will be okay if they are a little late, after all – it’s raining.

Cities look very different too – It’s nearly impossible to take a bad photograph – even the blurry ones with streaking lights are interesting.

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It would have been such a dream to stay home and write. Darn those responsibilities. Some day – it will be one and the same.

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