Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
SundayStills - signs of fall
Fall is a time of extreme height
for showing off in a big, ornamental way
fall is unkempt and a bit wild
Saturday, September 26, 2009
PhotoHunt - twisted
My tires are getting a little worn and probably should be replaced now, but I am holding out until November so I can replace them with snow tires. Until then, I need to drive a little bit out of my way to find one of these every couple of weeks. There are very few gas stations that still have FREE AIR. What twisted mind decided it was a good idea to charge for air??
How difficult is it to put the hose back on the rack so that it is not perpetually twisted?
Now, this is a new one I found when I went looking for twisted hoses...
note the "please walk hose back to machine"
And on a completely different tack...
I see this on my way home from the gas station with free air.
How twisted do you have to be to think this is a good look for a front yard??
(click to embiggen for a better look)
for more twisted views, check out other photohunters
How difficult is it to put the hose back on the rack so that it is not perpetually twisted?
Now, this is a new one I found when I went looking for twisted hoses...
note the "please walk hose back to machine"
And on a completely different tack...
I see this on my way home from the gas station with free air.
How twisted do you have to be to think this is a good look for a front yard??
(click to embiggen for a better look)
for more twisted views, check out other photohunters
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
what I like to see
When I was about 12, I got my first pair of glasses. I distinctly remember sitting in our living room and staring at the wallpaper - the flocked wallpaper (well, it was 1970) and realizing I could see the gold flocking. I could actually see the furry swirls raised from the rest of the wallpaper. It seems so obvious, but at the time it was new and exciting. I would sit on the chesterfield and bob my head up and down to see the difference in my improved eyesight. And I'm not even that blind. For more than 30 years I had the exact same prescription. The frames changed. The size of the lenses certainly changed. But the prescription, not a bit. I only needed the glasses for distance and even then, not all the time. I was always losing them at school. So I eventually stopped wearing them unless absolutely necessary. As a result, when I did wear them I was amazed all over again at the clarity and detail.
This all changed about 6 years ago, coincidentally just in time for our provincial health plan to delist vision care. I started having trouble reading those big signs in the middle of the grocery aisles to say what was in each aisle. Worse, I realized that I would be holding the boxes of cereal at varying distances to get the right angle to be able to read the information that is so vital to be included that it is in the tiniest font size available. It turned out my regular prescription needed to be stronger. AND, I needed reading glasses. Bifocals were recommended. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried not to shed any tears. I went home with new, stronger, prescription distance glasses and a pair of invisible bifocals. I sat on the chesterfield and bobbed my head up and down (I was told to do this, to get used to them) to watch television and read a book at the same time. This time, it wasn't so exciting. It was more dizzying than anything else. Then, the invisible line bifocals were almost the same style as the distance ones and within a matter of weeks I had trouble knowing which were which.
I ended up later getting another pair of reading glasses. I keep magnifying glasses in every room because that is so much easier. Except for reading books. I still need to work on that. And now I need another, stronger, prescription. I get headaches whenever I try to read the newspaper or a magazine. I find I check out the print before I even consider buying or reading a book. I can't get away with not wearing the glasses any more. All those blurry letters make my head spin, my eyes water, and scare me even a little. I hate to see anything out of focus. When I upload my photos I spend hours scrutinizing each one to determine the one that is the most in focus.
My mother had macular degeneration and for the longest time she struggled with doing the crossword and knitting as her eyesight deteriorated. I have no idea how she did it. Sheer determination and pig-headedness, most likely. Instead of biting my cheek, I had to bite my tongue to stop from complaining about my needing new reading glasses after 30 years. I maybe don't like anything to be out of focus, but I still have the opportunity to fix that. For the time being.
In the meantime, I have to take a blurry, out of focus photo for my new team blog lens.us.together. It is an unbelievably difficult challenge. I could just take an out of focus shot, but there would be no meaning to that. I need to find one that has a reason for being.
This all changed about 6 years ago, coincidentally just in time for our provincial health plan to delist vision care. I started having trouble reading those big signs in the middle of the grocery aisles to say what was in each aisle. Worse, I realized that I would be holding the boxes of cereal at varying distances to get the right angle to be able to read the information that is so vital to be included that it is in the tiniest font size available. It turned out my regular prescription needed to be stronger. AND, I needed reading glasses. Bifocals were recommended. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried not to shed any tears. I went home with new, stronger, prescription distance glasses and a pair of invisible bifocals. I sat on the chesterfield and bobbed my head up and down (I was told to do this, to get used to them) to watch television and read a book at the same time. This time, it wasn't so exciting. It was more dizzying than anything else. Then, the invisible line bifocals were almost the same style as the distance ones and within a matter of weeks I had trouble knowing which were which.
I ended up later getting another pair of reading glasses. I keep magnifying glasses in every room because that is so much easier. Except for reading books. I still need to work on that. And now I need another, stronger, prescription. I get headaches whenever I try to read the newspaper or a magazine. I find I check out the print before I even consider buying or reading a book. I can't get away with not wearing the glasses any more. All those blurry letters make my head spin, my eyes water, and scare me even a little. I hate to see anything out of focus. When I upload my photos I spend hours scrutinizing each one to determine the one that is the most in focus.
My mother had macular degeneration and for the longest time she struggled with doing the crossword and knitting as her eyesight deteriorated. I have no idea how she did it. Sheer determination and pig-headedness, most likely. Instead of biting my cheek, I had to bite my tongue to stop from complaining about my needing new reading glasses after 30 years. I maybe don't like anything to be out of focus, but I still have the opportunity to fix that. For the time being.
In the meantime, I have to take a blurry, out of focus photo for my new team blog lens.us.together. It is an unbelievably difficult challenge. I could just take an out of focus shot, but there would be no meaning to that. I need to find one that has a reason for being.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
SundayStills - purple
Purple is, you might admit, an unusual colour for decorating a building. At least at this northern latitude.
This has faded a bit over the years, but still stands out on a street with otherwise unadorned brick facades.
(you can see she owns the store to the right as well which has purple awnings.)
I am noticing a recent trend for cladding new buildings, or renovated ones, with bright bold colours. Mostly they are red, yellow and a bit of blue, and this one,
most definitely purple.
I think it will look great with the white snow that will surely fall
(way, way, in the future)
And behind this purple hoarding will eventually be the new Centre For Performing Arts.
which, by a happy conicidence, also has a purple logo!
(on the door of their old office)
We have had not a drop of rain for over four weeks now. We also are getting frost warnings overnight and warm, sunny days, making it difficult to not be outside. (taking so many pictures)
The clouds have contributed to some very dramatic sunrises and sunsets, portending some changes. This is a sunset from last Thursday as seen from my balcony.
see what other purple was found by going to SundayStills.
This has faded a bit over the years, but still stands out on a street with otherwise unadorned brick facades.
(you can see she owns the store to the right as well which has purple awnings.)
I am noticing a recent trend for cladding new buildings, or renovated ones, with bright bold colours. Mostly they are red, yellow and a bit of blue, and this one,
most definitely purple.
I think it will look great with the white snow that will surely fall
(way, way, in the future)
And behind this purple hoarding will eventually be the new Centre For Performing Arts.
which, by a happy conicidence, also has a purple logo!
(on the door of their old office)
We have had not a drop of rain for over four weeks now. We also are getting frost warnings overnight and warm, sunny days, making it difficult to not be outside. (taking so many pictures)
The clouds have contributed to some very dramatic sunrises and sunsets, portending some changes. This is a sunset from last Thursday as seen from my balcony.
see what other purple was found by going to SundayStills.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
now, where were we?
What was I writing about before getting so distracted...
Oh yeah, New York's Central Park.
I left my place in a snowstorm and arrived in New York in balmy 38F sunshine. Of course, I'd been working all night and it was mid afternoon when I got in the airport bus to take me to the hotel. I was meeting an old friend whom I hadn't seen in years. She was actually a friend of a friend I had met while travelling in Belgium in 1979. I met her when I went to visit him in Australia in 1989. We had kept up a Christmas card correspondence ever since. This trip had been planned for months and I was simply going to see her for a couple of days during one of her layovers on those extensive round the world things that Australians do so well.
New York is only an hours flight away, and after a delay of two hours which involved snow clearing and de-icing, I got to the hotel she had booked for us and was prepared to check in and grab a bite to eat and wander around to get a feel for where we were in Midtown before she got in from Peru sometime after midnight. Fine. Except there was no booking for me, or her, at this hotel. Nothing. No help. Never heard of her.
With a heavy heart, and a heavy extra sweater and boots (remember the snowstorm?), I wander up and down the streets asking at EVERY hotel I came across, and there were quite simply, no vacancies. Long story short, I call my friend who likes to help and knows NYC very well and after a couple more hours I get a hotel room and I crash into bed watching the news that Heath Ledger has died. My luxury room on 56th St is now a basic room on 97th St. It is under renovations and the room has no view, but has at least a comfortable bed.
The next morning I get some maps and plan out my two days of solitary touring. I decide to do Midtown and Central Park the first day then head down to Soho and the East Village the next day. I walked and walked and walked. It was still so very warm for a late January day, and clear and almost windless. It wasn't quite dark yet when I thought I'd get something to eat and watch the skaters at Rockefeller Center before heading up to the top for the night view (because by then I was too tired to walk to the Empire State Building). I walked down Fifth Avenue, taking architectural pictures of the very expensive shops instead of actually shopping in them when suddenly I hear someone call out my name. In a very distinctive Australian accent. I turn around, and there is Fiona. She was coming out of some shop about a block away and saw me and followed awhile to make sure. We had not seen each other in almost 20 years. It took me a few moments to bring my jaw back up off the pavement where it had fallen open in shock. I used to be amazed (and slightly unbelieving) at how that Seinfeld gang used to run into each other in such a huge city. Now folks, I am here to tell you it is possible. On the street. On Fifth Avenue. At 5pm. (the point being rush hour, not the coincidence of the fives).
Turns out, her travel agent screwed up the dates, so a frantic phone call to her back in Australia, and a few hours later, (remember Heath Ledger has just died, so rooms are still filling up) she gets a room booked. An upgrade to a suite in a very swanky hotel in Soho.
We had a much shorter visit.
And in the meantime, I fell in love with New York.
Oh yeah, New York's Central Park.
I left my place in a snowstorm and arrived in New York in balmy 38F sunshine. Of course, I'd been working all night and it was mid afternoon when I got in the airport bus to take me to the hotel. I was meeting an old friend whom I hadn't seen in years. She was actually a friend of a friend I had met while travelling in Belgium in 1979. I met her when I went to visit him in Australia in 1989. We had kept up a Christmas card correspondence ever since. This trip had been planned for months and I was simply going to see her for a couple of days during one of her layovers on those extensive round the world things that Australians do so well.
New York is only an hours flight away, and after a delay of two hours which involved snow clearing and de-icing, I got to the hotel she had booked for us and was prepared to check in and grab a bite to eat and wander around to get a feel for where we were in Midtown before she got in from Peru sometime after midnight. Fine. Except there was no booking for me, or her, at this hotel. Nothing. No help. Never heard of her.
With a heavy heart, and a heavy extra sweater and boots (remember the snowstorm?), I wander up and down the streets asking at EVERY hotel I came across, and there were quite simply, no vacancies. Long story short, I call my friend who likes to help and knows NYC very well and after a couple more hours I get a hotel room and I crash into bed watching the news that Heath Ledger has died. My luxury room on 56th St is now a basic room on 97th St. It is under renovations and the room has no view, but has at least a comfortable bed.
The next morning I get some maps and plan out my two days of solitary touring. I decide to do Midtown and Central Park the first day then head down to Soho and the East Village the next day. I walked and walked and walked. It was still so very warm for a late January day, and clear and almost windless. It wasn't quite dark yet when I thought I'd get something to eat and watch the skaters at Rockefeller Center before heading up to the top for the night view (because by then I was too tired to walk to the Empire State Building). I walked down Fifth Avenue, taking architectural pictures of the very expensive shops instead of actually shopping in them when suddenly I hear someone call out my name. In a very distinctive Australian accent. I turn around, and there is Fiona. She was coming out of some shop about a block away and saw me and followed awhile to make sure. We had not seen each other in almost 20 years. It took me a few moments to bring my jaw back up off the pavement where it had fallen open in shock. I used to be amazed (and slightly unbelieving) at how that Seinfeld gang used to run into each other in such a huge city. Now folks, I am here to tell you it is possible. On the street. On Fifth Avenue. At 5pm. (the point being rush hour, not the coincidence of the fives).
Turns out, her travel agent screwed up the dates, so a frantic phone call to her back in Australia, and a few hours later, (remember Heath Ledger has just died, so rooms are still filling up) she gets a room booked. An upgrade to a suite in a very swanky hotel in Soho.
We had a much shorter visit.
And in the meantime, I fell in love with New York.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
having coffee and dreaming
These past few days it has been all about TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival) and the appearance of Himself - George Clooney.
No, I have not seen him, except on numerous news reports and on the front page of all the newspapers, because, who wouldn't want to see George Clooney on the front page?
But, I discovered today, that while I was sitting at one of my coffee haunts last weekend, the owner was setting to prepare a meal of a lifetime for ... yes, Clooney. He wanted a special Italian meal to take out. Okay, for his plane trip home. Airline food that isn't anywhere near airline food. Unfortunately, owner Mr Albanese wasn't allowed to meet Mr Clooney in person. But it was two degrees of excitement to that 6 degrees of separation to Himself. I lunched at the bakery where the owner (who, okay, I've also never met, still...) made lunch for Clooney (who he also didn't actually meet, still...)
I bet it is crowded in there today. Sigh.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Monday AMuse
making do, when things get broke
mason jar mailbox
umbrella works where sunroof is stuck
Saturday, September 12, 2009
SundayStills - mechanical transportation
Ah, summer cruise nights ...
this Viper barely fits two
are now over for the season. As much fun as I have at these events, I know very little about the inner workings of these old automobiles. I am all about the body. The curves. The colours. The style.
The instructions for this challenge was "transportation
for two or more passengers"
this Viper barely fits two
but this model always has that little extra room in the rumble seat
and a no frills interior on this one, with a bit of home made decoration
I still lament the loss of those no draft windows
and FINS!
and FINS!
and a certain whimsical look in the Crestliner
or just pure whimsy as in this DeLorean
or just pure whimsy as in this DeLorean
see more examples of transportation at SundayStills
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)