From Giant Rubber Duckies and dolphins to drones. From big cars to toy trucks, boats to front-end loaders, horses to wings, everything in the world has a way to move itself around.
For the Wit’s End Challenge: Transportation.
I bought Yolanda one of those new (rather expensive) self- wringing mops at Costco. It is microfiber and the strings were looped at the end with a twist handle so you could just circulate the handle and the mop would wring itself without having to put your hands on the wet part. The other day I asked how she liked it and she said it was fine, but she had cut the ends off so it was like her old mop. Oy vey!!! At any rate, it is just as good a toy for the cats either way. Here Frannie does a little dance with Yolanda. Usually, she puts them out when she mops, but thought you’d like to see the fun.
(Click on first photo for larger views of all.)
I absolutely love this photo. Whatever Dee is relating to Colleen has turned her cross-eyed. Lynda, bored, couldn’t care less and has taken solace in her iPhone. Whoever is lurking to the side could probably fill us in on what is being talked about here.
I just completed a mixed media assemblage titled “Chaos Theory,” but living up to its name, I forgot to photograph it before I took it to the gallery. In lieu of it, please click on the first photo to enlarge and read the story of all of these other examples of chaos!
If you’d like to read the poem that goes with the Donald Trump pinata, go HERE.
Some relationships are doomed from the start. Truth is, his kisses came at too dear a price.
The Customer is Always Right
This photo would not be oddball except for the story that goes with it. I was in the same store that had the life-sized horse lamp with the lampshade on its head. Remember that? (A party horse, I surmise.) I could get through a year of oddballs on just photos from that store, but this particular photo is more about the subjects than the photo itself. I saw a woman who had been carrying her somewhat heavy and fussy child around the store for some time. Finally, as I waited in line to make a rather large purchase, (not the horse) she walked up and held the sleeping child out to this man, who had been helping me to buy the table and chairs and who did not look any too pleased to be taking charge of his son. His stance was awkward and his arms extended in a manner that showed very little connection to the child.
“Is this your son?” I asked, smiling fondly at the child who was cherubic in his sleeping state.
“No,” he answered.
“Do you know the mother at all?”
“No,” he answered, “I just work here.”
The mother, hearing our interchange, broke into the conversation. “I have been holding my son for a long time and my arms are tired, so I gave him to this man to hold for me.”
This may not be as funny in the telling as it was in the viewing, but this man in no way volunteered for babysitting duty and neither did he look at all adept at it or interested in continuing to serve as “baby-check” boy. It struck me as funny, and still does. How much of this story can you see in the photo?