A BLOGGING FOLLY

I had the strangest dream last night. I was at my desk and all around me were little creatures.
Little people with bird heads. Part animal, part human, these little creatures were.

They were polite in their manner. They danced around in my stupor, whispering and giggling. I liked these little creatures at my desk.

 They were strange indeed, but I was never scared. In my dream I could see my computer.

The little visitor's were hopping,  flying, and even crawling out of the screen. I was amazed.

The box on my desk, all aglow, supplied these curiosities, to my delight.



It was a strange new world  before me. All these little creatures and me.

My new little friends, they introduced themselves.

They spoke and said, Hello Kevin, our names are Temptation, and this here is Knowledge, and over there is Greed, and standing to your right is Lust, and behind him is Curiosity, and the tall girl there, her name is Convenience, and of course lets not forget our friend Fear. Just look into your screen and you will always find us.

Please click to enlarge.

ON THE STREET WHERE I LIVE

              The show stopper you see before you is an EUPHORBIA TRIUCALLII, commonly called a pencil cactus and in this case a coral pencil cactus. Typically green, this color was introduced about ten years ago, which given full sun stays this orange pink. As beautiful as it is, be careful, it has a white milky sap that is toxic. If you work with it, wash your hands and never get it in your eyes. Trust me, never get it your eyes. I did and for about two hours I wanted to die. It was like watching The Joy Luck Club, Old Yeller, Madame X, Imitation Of Life, and the death of Bambi's mother, all in one sitting. You get the picture. Enjoy the plant, just don't touch.



HOW THE DEAD TALK BACK

I stated in my prior post, Ashes to Ashes, that I went to a wonderful, but strange estate sale last weekend. Here are few more pieces to show and tell. So this is the tell part. The last descendant of this family line lets say his name was John, well John was living with a man, let say David. Well it seems, John, while still living with David, decided he wanted to be Jenny. So I was told, David, while now living with Jenny, decided he now wanted to be Denise. So it was Jenny and Denise living in this big old house. Are you still with me , confusing I know.

I was told they were a happy couple and lived for many years in the big old house. I hope so. As I look at all the photos of dead relatives I wonder who were these people. I have many questions in my mind about the their world back then, the clothes, the silver, did they entertain often, were they social? All these things entertain me and take me away from  the present world tragedies. I need to escape.

As sad as estate sales can be, we won, they loss, in a way isn't it the ultimate recycling. It's passed on to me, you, and to anyone else who cares to own some of their history. Nothing is used, it's already there given to us by the deceased.  Maybe, in some way, that is how the dead talk back.





ASHES TO ASHES

So, I was at this private estate sale this weekend, a big three story Craftsman, full of everything this kid loves. Including the ashes of the deceased found by me in two little boxes in a sack on the mantle. Not for sale, I was told. Please, if you are going to have a sale, put Mother and Father away, before someone walks away with them.

I did buy a black tin box and on my return home looked at the contents closely and to my surprise found all the deeds to the oil wells in Louisiana, gold and silver mines in Oregon, land grants, deeds, birth certificates all dating back to 1831. Oh, and course cemetery plot locations. And yes, I was a good boy, I drove back and handed them the black tin box. So here are a few things to show and tell, more later I promise.



 







 

 





HAVING A WONDERFUL TIME, WISH YOU WERE HERE

 Don't you just love the Madonna Inn.

FREEDOM

What do you get when you add one trusting client, one green vinyl chair, and three different fabrics?

DRINKING IN THE RAIN

It's tax time, so if anyone is thinking of striking out on your own, think about it long and hard. This the only time of the year that I hate my life and want to be somewhere else. In fact, I want to be in this bar, with friends, in the rain, drinking bourbon, on Bourbon Street, in the Quarter. We'll talk later, back to the paper work.