Above and Beyond

I just learned this evening: Our next door neighbor but one doesn't just sweep and wash his sidewalk in front of his house.

He also cleans the gutter out.

If We Kill You, It's All Your Fault

This is by far the most thorough "contract" of this sort I've ever seen.

It's amusing in a way.

But inquiring minds (or at least this one) want to know: Just how binding is this "contract"? Does it hold if I never see it? Does it hold if it's in the wrong language? Does it actually hold in any way, shape, or form, and if so, why?

Flying

I had almost forgotten about these folk. Fortunately, the crowd led me in their direction and, again by being somewhat pushy and resolutely non-claustrophobic, I was able to get a pretty good view. I couldn't see the take-offs, unfortunately, but I saw plenty of in the air acrobatics.

I think they're crazy. I also admire them.

The U. S. Open

What with one thing and another, I actually missed most of the U. S. Open this year--nearly heretical, I know. I mean, some years I've been out of state, but this year I was a mere 2 and a half miles away and still didn't get to the beach on time most days.

However, I did manage to make it to the men's final heat today, and by dint of being slightly pushy and resolutely non-claustrophobic and by standing in the water (together with a few hundred other people), I got a pretty good view.

The surfers spend an awful lot of time bobbing about between waves (says the spoiled viewer used to watching crowds of amateurs), or at least, there's a lot when the surf isn't cooperating, which it wasn't today, but when they do catch waves, it is pretty spectacular.

The one in red1, by the way, is Tim Boal of France, who won the next-to-last heat by some tenths of a point. The guy in white is Nathaniel Curran of the U.S. I guess this one must have been close, too, because, though I couldn't hear most of what the announcer was saying (a pity, that's half the fun), I did hear him lamenting at the end that the computers were down so they couldn't figure the final score.

Ultimately, the representative from the U. S. won. That's him, there at the end, not very visible as the crowd carries him in.

1 At least, I'm pretty sure that's the right color sorting. I tried to double-check it online, and one picture shows one and one the other. So, if you can confirm or deny, I'll be quite happy. Edit: Yeah, further checks indicate this is correct. Whoever had the red pic must have been using an old one from another heat--or even another contest.

The Stolen Earth/Journey's End

Um. Well. Yeah.

I admit, my view of these was colored by the fact that a) I already knew we were losing Donna and found that unforgivable1 and b) I'd been spoiled: I knew how we were losing Donna, and found that nearly unforgivable.

That and my initial reaction to the trailer didn't set the stage for a very happy viewing. I mean, Daleks, again? Just how many times can the Ultimate Threat appear and turn out to be not so very Ultimate after all? And how many times must he or someone else make the Ultimate Sacrifice to get rid of these pests (anyone else reminded of cockroaches here?)?

Speaking of Ultimate...

The writers, or at least RTD, need to take another look or two at the words "ultimate" and "maximum." The president declared "Maximum Red Alert" in The Stolen Earth (or maybe it was only "ultimate," I get confused) and Daleks declared their intention to use "ultimate extermination" on a man and his family. Red alert is already "maximum," and exterminated is as "ultimate" as it gets. I might let it slide if this were the only time it had happened, but the past few seasons have been strewn with stray superlatives--last year, for example, the Cybermen2 announced that they were going to subject the Doctor and his friends to "Ultimate Deletion," various windows and doors got "maximum deadlocked," whatever that means and there are plenty more of those running through the series.

Which gets me to the story which is, after all, what this is all supposed to be about.

It was entertaining, but not one of the best.

I've already mentioned the problem with the Daleks.

Daleks can be great villains, and I know that they were the truly terrifying monsters of the past--I have seen a few of those episodes. And, they have been used effectively in the New Who: the "last" Dalek in Dalek was one such instance--we learned a lot more about the Doctor and what makes him tick, for one thing, and a few things about Rose as well. And it made a great end to the chapter we'd never seen but had only heard about.

Except, of course, it wasn't the end. I have to admit, The Daleks in Bad Wolf/Parting of the Ways were pretty impressive. There was some shock value there, for one thing, and the multitude of Daleks chanting did seem a terrifying threat. Once. Then they showed up again in Army of Ghosts/Doomsday and began to seem excessive, though the interchanges with the Cybermen2 helped to salvage the situation. But then--oh, look! There they are again in Daleks in Manhatten, where at least the Doctor didn't "lose" anyone (back to that in a moment), and, oh wow, they're back in full, chanting glory for this season's finale.

See why I couldn't muster much enthusiasm? Having Jack and Sarah sit down and wait to die did not improve matters. I really couldn't believe it of either of them; they've both spent their lives saving the earth from Dire Peril, what's a Dalek or two more? So, making them huddle in corners and bewail their fate seemed more like a desperate attempt to make the viewer think that Daleks again was a fabulously scary idea.

And, um, oh look! Rose is back. You know, the woman who could never, ever, ever come back or universes would collapse? The one who had not one but two moving goodbye scenes? That one. What's more, it turns out she'd been building a device to get herself back almost from the moment she said goodbye, never mind what the Doctor told her about the universe-destroying properties of said machines; she even had help on it. Are the alt-universe people suicidal? Or do the suspect the Doctor of exaggeration? Fortunately for everyone, the universes appear to have started collapsing on their own, so her work turned out to be useful rather than lethal.

Aaand, then, when it's all over, the Real Doctor sends her back to the Other Universe--which is not her original home, so there was no semi-magical affinity to make it necessary--so she can look after the Clone Doctor there. And Clone Doctor needs looking after because he just committed genocide. How's that for a babysitting job?

Mind, I'm not sure what Real Doctor was going to do with all those Daleks; they don't really make good house pets and anyway, by now he should know that genocide is only temporary (see "cockroach"), having tried that route himself already.

Clone Doctor himself was... not the best idea RTD ever came up with. As a "pull a miracle" it beats goddess-Rose, but... as an idea, he's not all that great. And having the Doctor and Donna offer him to Rose as a consolation(?) for losing Real Doc made the whole situation seem tacky & cheap. Had Rose figured it out on her own, it would still have been a bad idea, but it wouldn't have seemed quite so tawdry.

And Donna.

I have been dreading losing Donna for ages, and I was right. I'm going to miss her. I haven't decided yet whether, in the long run, I prefer a mind-wipe (she lost more than memory there) to death, but in any case, she's gone.3

Short-term, I have to say that memory-wiping seems like a cop out. Always has, in whatever story it appears in4. Don't like what happened? No problem, just erase a few minutes of memory and no one will have to deal with it at all. And the people with the lost memories? They seem to get along just fine, though it is very hard to believe they don't have dreams or flashbacks or other difficulties. Donna, for example, is going to have quite a gap in her employment record and no way of explaining it to herself or anyone else. Unless, of course, the Doctor has thought about that and altered the records accordingly, which is not entirely impossible.

But... Donna's gone, and no matter what the Doctor did or did not do for her employment record, memory wipes remain a cop out.

And I am really, really, really (how's that for superlatives?) tired of the Lonely God. Honestly, angst-driven, set-apart-from-it-all heroes are a dime a dozen. Heroes who turn back to admire the werewolf chasing them--those are something special. In fact, I can only think of one, and he wasn't the Lonely God. He was "just" the Doctor. So I hope that whatever Steven Moffat does, he doesn't continue with that silliness.

So, after all that--what did I like?

Harriet Jones, of course, was magnificent, and, while I hate to see her die, it was a great death. Having the Daleks recognize her was a funny/sad moment, and I admire her for sticking to her Christmas Day decision, and for deciding that, even if she wasn't Prime Minister, she was going to stay on the job as defender of Earth (which needs all the defenders it can get).

The planets in the sky. It was a lovely image.

Dalek Caan. If the Daleks have to reappear, it's a good idea to have a mad bubbly prophetic one sitting there giggling to himself, even if I don't believe for a minute that he somehow engineered Donna and the Doctor's meeting.

I loved the gathering of companions, particularly the bit where they were all laughing and driving the TARDIS together.

I loved seing Jackie again. I've missed her. Neither Martha nor Donna had anyone comparable working to keep the Doctor in line.

Donna's grandad. He's been a favorite of mine from the first, and his farewell to the Doctor was perfectly done and well timed.

The Doctor running to meet Rose and the shock of his death. Yes, her return was a generally bad idea, and yes, we all knew he wasn't really dead, but it was a nearly-perfect moment despite that.

Micky-the-Idiot. His growth as a character is one example of the things the show does right. It's only the good shows that can take the trouble to develop secondary characters and make them matter.

Donna was splendid, as always: "I'm a human being. Not the stuff of legends, but every bit as important as a Time Lord, thank you." And DoctorDonna was a marvel, very believable as Donna with the knowledge of a Time Lord thrown in. No, that couldn't have lasted, but why not just have it fade?

Caring enough about the show to rant. I don't bother with shows I don't like; I just turn the TV off.

That there will be another season after the Gap Year (though the Year itself worries me. With Donna gone, are we doomed to a series of Astrids?).

1. I still find it unforgivable. Who cares about real life issues such as contracts and contrary actors? I want Donna back.
2 Who are also set to come back again.
3 Though I did just rewatch The Unicorn and the Wasp where there was that nice bit about Agatha never really forgetting what happened. And, yes, I hated that mind wipe, too. It was hardly necessary. However--it does clear the way for Donna to at least regain some of the personality growth she lost with the Doctor's so helpful help. And maybe, possibly, she'll show up on Torchwood's doorstep one of these days, fighting mad and ready to rejoin the Doctor. In any case, I do hope the Doctor deputized someone to look in on her once and a while--besides her family I mean. It would actually be safe to give Jack the job. She seems to be the one individual in the entire universe he doesn't want to flirt with.
4 I can't love Susan Cooper's Dark is Rising series as much as I ought, and it is mostly because of the memory cop-out. Will is always erasing people's memories; it means he doesn't have to deal with the consequences of his family or friends finding out about him, and neither does Cooper; the end also features a wholesale memory-erasure.

Words of Wisdom from David Attenborough

It is a great mistake, on finding an alligator's nest, to think just because its owner is not sitting on top of it that it is deserted.

From Life in Cold Blood by David Attenborough

Lolcats

more cat pictures

Another excerpt from Girl Genius

Take a look at this bit.

And then go back to the beginning and read the story.

It's off the wall.

It's complex.

Everyone is double-crossing everyone else and then un-crossing them.

I have no idea quite where the story is heading.

It's magnificent.

The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester, a book review

It's been a while since I read this one, so I'm hazy on the details.

I can tell you, though, that it is well worth reading. I picked it up because of the title (Can you resist it?) but read it through because it is just plain good.

It's an account of the making of the Oxford English Dictionary and the lives of two of its main contributors, Professor James Murray, who headed the dictionary-making project for forty years, and W.C. Minor, the madman of the title, who provided a number of entries while living in the insane asylum (quite definitely insane). It's the best sort of non-fiction, focusing on the dictionary and its making while also showing how it fits into its time and place.

It's also extremely well-written, and I highly recommend it.

The man who made lists : love, death, madness, and the creation of Roget's Thesaurus by Joshua Kendall

I picked this one out because I loved The Professor and the Madman and thought the story of thesaurus making might be similarly interesting.

It's not.

In fact, I bailed about 1/3 of the way through. It's a fairly average biography with lots of amateur psychology and tales of young Roget's early life. His family was prone to depression and madness, his mother was clingy and lived her life through him (Behind every great man is a needy mother?) and etc. Pretty much the usual stuff, and not terribly well told. Oh, the prose is good enough, at least I didn't notice any glaring errors, but the author utterly failed to make me care at all about Roget or his list making.

Pity.

Murder Can Stunt Your Growth by Selma Eichler

I've heard of this series before and been vaguely curious about them.

Desiree Shapiro is a short, overweight, somewhat pushy PI. It makes for a variation on the usual formula, and the titles are clever and eye catching. Anyway, I finally got around to reading one.

I'd rate it as average ok. I might read another one if I'm in the mood for a mystery, I might not. The central mystery in this one--starting with the question of whether or not there even is a mystery--is intriguing. Desiree and her supporting cast are moderately likable, and the prose works.

Yes: This is tepid praise. I liked it well enough. I might read another. I'm not going to run around recommending it to all my friends and relations.

A link for you

Just a bit from Girl Genius.

All right, make that two.

She's Home!

Mom's back! The fever's gone!

She's still tired, of course, but she's home!

Splooosh!

How to enjoy papermaking in a few easy steps:

1) Have plenty of pulp on hand. If you can persuade someone to let you run the blender, stick your arms into the tub full of shredded paper up to the elbows. Do the same to the bucket of pulp when it is full enough. Throw a bit at a friend.

2) Fill your bowl with the pulp-and-water mix. Hold it as high as you possibly can over the deckle and flip it quickly so the maximum amount of water and pulp splashes out. Repeat.

3) Cover the deckle with newspaper and press as much water as you can out. Be very enthusiastic and energetic about it.

4) Wait happily for several days until the paper dries and you can take it home.

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I had forgotten quite how much I enjoy working with kids.

Every year, my sister's church puts on a great Vacation Bible School. I mean *really* great. Jerusalem Marketplace takes the children back in time to Jesus' time--27, 28, or 29 AD. For that week, the kids are placed in one of Israel's tribes. A tribal mom (my sister is one this year), instructs them in the morning rituals of Jewish prayer and talks to them about Jewish life. They go to storytellers to listen to Bible stories--sometimes Old Testament, sometimes New Testament (which is anachronistic for 29 AD, but never mind). Church members dress as figures from Christ's time--there's usually a beggar, a tax collector, and at least one Roman soldier walking around and as apostles (see Matthew the tax collector, who usually turns to follow Jesus on the third of or fourth day of the week), common people who wonder about Jesus, and Jesus himself. They talk with the kids, reenact their parts (the kids are very generous--the beggar is often the wealthiest person in town, truth be known), and often take part in a drama at the well highlighting some aspect of Jesus' ministry.

The kids also take turns visiting various "shops" where wares similar to those in Jesus' day are made. The spend about 30 minutes in each shop making their own baskets, candles, jewelry, and what-have-you.

A lot of kids go every year from the time they are five to the time they are twelve, and then some come back as shopkeeper's assistants to the shopkeepers or, later, to the tribal moms. Many of the adults have played one role or another over the years, some plan on it every year.

I used to attend the church, and pretty regularly worked in the childcare during Marketplace, so I have very fond memories of it and this year, being here and having the time and energy for the first time in quite a long time, I got to wondering about it. Last Saturday, I asked my sister when it was, "Oh, it starts Monday." "I don't suppose they need anyone still?"

Turns out they did: The papermaker had had to bow out at the last moment. My three and a half hours of instruction in the art put me well ahead of anyone else available, so I'm in charge of the papermaking shop.

It is, as you may gather from the above, slightly different from making paper with adults. There is a lot of enthusiasm and a lot of water spread around.

And it is great fun.

Of course, being an adult, I've done some fretting--mostly about whether or not the paper would actually dry; it keeps getting damp at night and foiling my efforts, but we found space to spread several sheets out singly, indoors, so there will be enough for the kids to take some home after the grand finale tomorrow night, and I can relax about that.

Oh, and I've had excellent helpers from the Jr. High group who have been extremely patient not only with the kids but with the whole messy business of trundling the thirty-plus deckles indoors each night and helping prepare pulp for the next day (they weren't the ones up to their elbows in it, though, that was another, younger group of helpers). They've also become very adept at the art of flipping a deckle over quickly and slamming it down hard so that the paper will come out intact, a technique this particular variety of deckle requires--especially when it has really super wet paper in it.

I've had a marvelous time and, yes, I'll do it again next year if I'm still in the area and if they decide they want a papermaker again--the potter & I had a disagreement today over whose shop was the messiest, but I don't think there is any real doubt--with paper shreds and bits of pulp all over the ground, I think that mine takes the prize easily.

////

Prior to this, I had also volunteered for Power Lab, the VBS at my home church, which does a more typical rotation of VBS's. I had thought to spend some time quietly in the preschool, but what they turned out to need are team leaders for some of the elementary age kids. It'll be my first time helping out there. I wonder how it will turn out?

Update

Thank you, everyone who has been praying.

I have better news todayl

The last test of Mom's blood showed absolutely no sign of the septicemia and the ultrasound revealed no abscessed organs (whew!). Both of those are answers to prayer.

She still has spiking fevers, though--not as high, but definitely spiking, which has the folk at the hospital somewhat puzzled. They're running tests for malaria now--yes, even after all this time, it might still be in her blood and might actually have taken all this time (13? 14? years) to show up. The pattern of the fever spikes does match the "typical" malarial pattern, so it is a possibility. Remote, but a possibility. I don't actually know what all else they're testing for.

Advent for a Dancing God

I finally found my copy of this--by looking for something else.

Advent for a Dancing God
By Jennifer L. Woodruff

God is dancing still. Why, I do not know;
wild rains are blowing, and the night is deep;
wind shatters all our human hopes; we weep
for what was lost yet never was let go.

How he is whirling in the wind and rain,
still terrible and passionate and dear;
one step too far away, one breath too near,
we fear lest he might never come again.

God is dancing still, though we build a wall
and make some little bricks, and hold our hands
against the rain; his ruthless love demands
not half our room nor half our door but all.

O in the darkness of a night gone out
come find me once again, descend, be born,
be racked by wind and crucified and torn
yet never stop the dance. How could I doubt

Your peace more frightening than any pain,
your dark embrace that burns and purifies,
the searching sharp enchantment of your eyes,
the absolute perfection of your flame?

God of all wind, all dance, all fire, all grace,
heal what I cannot hold, receive my prayer
and give me strength, surrendering, to bear
the dark and dancing splendor of your face.

Prayer Needed

Just a quick update. Since last night, my mom has been in the hospital with septicemia. She's getting fluids and antibiotics intravenously. Her fever is down--but it isn't gone & it ought to be, with the treatment. They'll know more for sure in a day or so when the cultures are complete.

There are all sorts of possible complications from infected organs to a resistant superbug, so your prayers are much appreciated at this time.

Who Knew?

The Book Arts class is going on a field trip to the UCI library next week. This requires signing two separate forms, one absolving them of any and all responsibility if we drive our own vehicles (they are not supplying a bus) and another stating that "I understand and acknowledge that this Activity may be dangerous and hazardous and by its very nature pose the potential risk of severe and serious physical and emotional injury/illness, or even death, to all individuals who participate in such activity."

Just what do they keep up in Special Collections?

The Non-Park II

If you look here and here, you will see that I was quite mistaken. Bartlett Park is practically the Garden of Eden; it's even been proposed as a model for some other park.

Additionally, you will learn that it is "one of the most rustic, natural parks in the city."

*I've never seen it look the way it does in the first site, mind you.

**They left out the broken bottles. Of course, so did I. There's only so much you can get in one image.

The Non-Park

There's an odd sort of unkempt wilderness area a couple of blocks away from us. I've been by a few times and idly wondered what it was. Today I finally went around back to see what I could find out.











It turns out it's a park.

Sort of.

It also turns out to be dedicated to someone.

I am not sure that this is really an honor.

Peculiar Shelving

I have my hands on a copy of The Singing Sands. The chances are it was in the library the last time I was there looking for it.

What neither the reference librarian or I noticed at the time was that it is shelved under "Mackintosh."

Elizabeth Mackintosh happens to be Josephine Tey's real name, but it is not the name she wrote under, and it is not the name on the book cover.

Even more confusing: Several of Tey's mysteries are shelved under Tey in the mystery section and at least one is under "Tey" in the fiction section (I did a lot of hunting before I went back to the catalog and noticed the "Mackintosh").

I suppose this does mean that people not looking for her are more likely to stumble across her unexpectedly, thus brightening their lives, but it still seems odd.

Anyway, I have a copy now, and I'm going to curly up and read for a while.

Fireworks

It was a lovely Fourth of July.

I got up in time to go see the parade, though I did miss the first few floats.

HB is enormously fond of its parade; people start staking out their places as soon as they are allowed, using tape, chalk, and signs to mark their boundaries. Some folk bring big trucks with bleachers. All in all, it is quite a festive event and worth going to just for the people watching.

I'm not, myself, quite patient enough to sit through the two hundred and some floats; instead, I walk down the line taking pictures as I go. A lot of other people have the same idea, so what with the crowds and stopping to take pictures, it takes a good couple of hours to reach the pier.

There's a street market there this weekend, a much more blatantly commercial market than the usual one. Our usual market is full of handmade items and farm-fresh fruits, giving it an air of authenticity and innocence. The Fourth of July market, on the other hand, is replete with plastic, chock full of chemicals, free samples, and ads.

Actually, the free samples were quite disappointing this year. Starbucks was good and had quite a line waiting for their little cups of mint mocha. Then there was the usual energy drink, the same one, I think, that shows up every year. And there were folk from Sobe handing out something called "Life Water." It has ginseng (so the label says), bright orange food coloring, lots of sugar, and no apparent flavor beyond "Flat, sweet, and vaguely chemical." It was cold and free and the day was hot, and I still couldn't finish it; judging by the number of partly full bottles I saw in the trash cants (and, alas, left on the street), I wasn't the only one with that opinion.

In any case, the real fun is people watching, and there are scads of people to watch--see the pictures in previous posts, for example.

I got home in time for a late lunch, wrestled for a while with the Mage Trio aka the Troublesome Trio and enjoyed a lovely barbeque with the family.

Then came time for the real event of the day; fireworks! My sisters and I walked down to the pier to join hundreds of others waiting for the city show. We thought it was crowded when we got there, but by the time the show actually started, we knew what crowded really meant. There wasn't a bit of space left.

Well, not by American standards, anyway. As the one who's been in Mexico pointed out, there was still some space between people.


HB puts on a spectacular show, so it's no wonder the crowds come. I filled up my card before the grand finale, but the pictures should give some idea.

It's the first time I've taken pictures during a firworks show, and I found watching on-screen and real time simultaneously fascinating; the little frozen pictures on the camera catch moments that I don't notice while the fireworks are in full blaze and burst.



After the half hour show finished, we joined the slow but steady shuffle off the beach and down the road, gloating over our good fortune in living within walking distance. Foot traffic might have been moving slowly, but cars were not moving at all--not for many, many blocks.

It was a good night for a walk, too.

Josephine Tey, a book review, well, more like an author review, really

It happened again.

I ran out of library books.

This left me with nothing to read but the several hundred books already shelved in the house.

Naturally, I moped for a bit.

Then I pulled The Franchise Affair, by Josephine Tey, off the shelves and started reading, quickly following that with Brat Farrar, Miss Pym Disposes, To Love and Be Wise, and The Man in the Queue. Now I'm moping because we don't happen to own The Singing Sands, A Shilling for Candles, or The Daughter of Time and they weren't on the shelves when I last visited the library; this last really ought to delight me because it means someone else is reading them & they'll stay in print, and it means people are using the library, so I shall duly try to be delighted while I wait impatiently for the books to be in.

I had forgotten quite how much I like Tey. She's one of those rare creatures, a mystery writer worth rereading.1 Her prose is beautiful and her plots intricate and intriguing. I will *not* say that her characters are "realistic," because I don't think they are, particularlly. What they *are* is believable, vivid, and likeable, which I find far more important.

Tey didn't write "a series" as such, though Alan Grant is the hero in five of the books, sort of an antagonist in one, and possibly has a walk-on in another. That last bit of trivia is by way of telling you that when2 you go to the library, you don't have to wait for any one particular book to be in before starting. Dive in anywhere! I will confess that Brat Farrar and To Love and Be Wise are particular favorites of mine, but they are all good.

As for me, while I wait for the Tey books, I will console myself with Sayer's work. I have a lovely omnibus edition with Whose Body, Murder Must Advertise and Strong Poison in it. That should keep me busy for a while.

1. She's also dead, unfortunately, which means the 8 she wrote is all we'll ever have. It's not fair!
2. You are going, right?

Paper Making and Painting with Bleach

Well, since I last wrote about the book making class, we've made paper and painted with bleach.

Making paper was something I've wanted to try for a while and it turned out to be tremendous fun. Now, I have several sheets of paper lying on the floor in my sister's room (she's away for the moment) with a fan on them to help finish the drying process. I have also added a deckle to the List of Things I Desperately Desire, even though the original reason I've not tried homemade paper remains: It takes room. One needs space for big, splashy tubs full of paper pulp and a large, flat area on which to dry the sheets when they come out. Still and all, I want to do it again.

Painting with bleach was not such a big hit with me. To begin with, it's bleach. It smells. Then, too, once the paper has been marked with bleach, it's been marked: There's no erasing crooked lines or undesired dots. It isn't that beauty is impossible, several of my classmates produced quite beautiful works, it's that I, personally, dislike it. So far, it's the only process we've tried that I will not be repeating.

In any case, I'm adding book making to my list of Things Everyone Should Try at least once. It's fun, creative, and relaxing.

*In case you're curious, I also think everyone should be given a camera and sent out to look at the world. I think they'd be much happier for it.

A Busy Day at the Beach

No. You don't own your likeness. They do. Forever, in case you were wondering.

But it's all ok. After all, if you don't like the idea, you can just stay away from the beach and avoid downtown HB.

These, I think, speak for themselves.

The 104th Fourth of July Parade!

The Fourth of July Parade is a big event here. People reserve their spaces in advance, decorate houses, and plan their parties around it.

I don't make it every year, but this year I was able to go down to observe the festivities.





Fifers fifing. Do fifers fife?

The photo of the Wells Fargo coach is posted out of respect for Stagecoach: Wells Fargo and the American West, which I recently read & enjoyed. Otherwise, I probably would not have even particularly noticed it amidst all the rest.


I find it amusing that the Garbage Collectors regularly have an entry. This one isn't as good as last years, but they can't all be winners, can they?

Horses!

What is a parade without horses, bit and small?

The Post-Parade Parade

The Biggest Parade This Side of the Mississippi is followed by another, less-celebrated, parade.

A Very Practical Ministry

I observed this with equal amounts of respect and amusement.

Paste Paper

I'm finally taking that Book Arts class I've been eyeing for the last several years.

The room smells of pastels and paste and paper and we all have bags full of scissors, crayons, colored pencils, and an assortment of other Grown Up art materials.

There's a little time for lecture, some time for demonstration, and a long spell of quite happily making stuff.

We've made books from single sheets of paper, several folds, and one cut, books from boxes, and accordion books. This week the focus is on paper, so today we learned paste paper painting, which is a sort of grown up version of finger painting, very messy, and a lot of fun. Tomorrow we'll make paper and bleach already made colored paper.

Oh, and I own an awl now. I've always wanted to own an awl.