William Warfield – Deep River
Something upbeat (or at least righteously angry) next time, I promise. Suggestions gladly taken.
ETA:
H/t that last one gbear
Open Thread – “When I was about sixteen years of age…”Post + Comments (46)
by Sarah, Proud and Tall| 46 Comments
This post is in: Absent Friends, Music, Open Threads, Post-racial America
William Warfield – Deep River
Something upbeat (or at least righteously angry) next time, I promise. Suggestions gladly taken.
ETA:
H/t that last one gbear
Open Thread – “When I was about sixteen years of age…”Post + Comments (46)
This post is in: Open Threads, RIP
Yesterday proves that it is ever-dangerous to utter the line that should never be said:
“Musn’t grumble. Could be worse.”
I’ve lived long enough — which means I’ve experienced my share of loss as well as joy — to know that words are easily misaimed at such times. But I have noticed that there are things that do help (me); reminders that make either sorrow or rage (both evoked by different events yesterday) a little easier to take. Just for a moment, usually, but better than nothing.
For my part, those self-escaping goads have always been natural beauty. Following that line, and for no other purpose than evoking any of your own such sights or sounds or whatever, here are a couple of shots of things or places that are among my current suppliers of escape from present wretchednesses.
So, first up, a link to a (copyrighted) image I saw for the first time only a few days ago, a picture of one of the traditional human symbols of hope renewed.*
And here’s a shot of the big mountain in the area I’ve been going to in the summer since I was six:
Every time I look at that picture (and the dozens almost exactly like it I’ve taken from that spot over the years) I feel better. Not as much as I do when I’m actually there, but still.
Over to y’all. Got any talismans to help with hard days?
Which is to say, a(nother) blue-tinged open thread.
*That newest possible moon, btw is one of those Don’t Try This At Home Kids shots. To get it, the photographer had to image very close to the sun, and you can see at the link above the rig he put together to do so safely. This is the second solar – esque shot I’ve posted here lately, and it seems to me a necessary PSA to say that doing any kind of amateur solar observing or photography is a tricky business indeed, and one with real risks — so please, if you’re moved to make some images of your own of our star, be careful. This is one of those situations where it is literally true that it is all fun and games until someone loses an eye.
by Sarah, Proud and Tall| 39 Comments
This post is in: Absent Friends, Cat Blogging
Because sometimes you need to drink with your friends and tell stories…
Yesterday, when I went to go to the lumber yard to get a couple dozen bags of topsoil, I couldn’t find my wallet. It drove me nuts, because I KNOW that I had placed it on the second desk in my office the night before. But when I went there, it was gone. I looked everywhere, and couldn’t find it, and then, on a hunch (since she has already chewed up one wallet and made an attempt on this wallet), I checked under the Morris chair in the spare bedroom where Rosie like to stash her (MY) stuff. And sure enough, there it was. I couldn’t figure out how she was doing it, until now.
As I was sitting here working, Tunch jumped up onto the spare desk, nonchalantly walked over and knocked my wallet onto the ground. In a flash, Rosie shot out from underneath my feet at the desk, picked up the wallet, and took off for the spare bedroom. Tunch just sat there and gave me a “WTF are you going to do about it, fat man?”
I just sat there for a minute, stunned. I think I may have actually said “You gotta be shitting me” out loud, because it dawned on me that if they really are working together, I’m screwed.
As I was there, I looked over the counter at his charts, and even upside down I could make out Tunch * CAUTION! *, which made me laugh. I asked if he behaved this time, and before I could finish the question, she blurted out “No!” and several assistants started laughing. He’s such a bastard at the vets they don’t even try to sugarcoat it.
Tunch has been on my tip ALL…NIGHT…LONG… because after the Pens win last night I gave Rosie and Lily left over steak and Tunch some tuna to celebrate the Pens win.
Now, he wants more tuna, and went so far as to knock his food bowl with kibble off the table so both dogs could eat it. BECAUSE IT WAS NOT TUNA.
Fat bastard.
I guess just the proximity to the concept of climbing shit tired him out.
There you go. The most awesome and simultaneously worthless fucking cat on the planet.
Little creature, formed of joy and mirthPost + Comments (39)
This post is in: Cat Blogging, RIP, Blogospheric Navel-Gazing
I’m pretty inconsolable, but I really do want to thank each and every one of you for trying to do the impossible act of cheering me up. I just can not believe he is gone. We were together for twelve years, basically the longest relationship I have ever had with anyone not a very close friend or family, and the suddenness is overwhelming.
I buried him in his favorite blanket (the one with all the kitties on it that you guys used to joke about), and I put him in the back yard in his favorite spot in the yard, which was the only place that had morning, afternoon, and evening sun. He spent so much time there that I had to put sunscreen on his pink ears so he would not get burnt or develop cancer. Earlier this morning I picked him up and was holding him like a baby- he loved it- and rubbing his belly and he would always lick my hand while I did it, and I actually thought “It’s a good thing he has been saving up his energy sleeping for the last decade because I want him around for another one.” I buried him in a place in the back yard I can see from the deck, so he may not be there on the porch with me, but he will be there.
I almost feel guilty for how I portrayed him as mean and vicious, but you all saw through that. He was really a super sweet cat, and everyone who came to the house would get a complimentary 15 minutes of Tunch on the lap. He wasn’t skittish around folks like some cats- he would walk right up and say hi and jump on your lap. And everyone who met him had two things to say “MY GOD HE IS BIG” and “Wow he is super sweet.”
I never mentioned this before, because I always thought it was really, really weird and I didn’t want to deal with the comments, but one of Tunch’s idiosyncratic behaviors was every time I left the bathroom door open and went to the bathroom, he would come in, and while I was on the throne, lick my toes. I have no idea why, but after a couple years you just deal with it and flip the pages of sports illustrated to the next article.
I just can’t believe he is gone, and in such a violent way after I pampered him and was so protective for so long, freaking out when he got out of my apartment before I moved here with the fence, with me driving around town for hours in the dark, ruining clothes as I climbed through bushes because I saw him and wanted him home where he belongs.
Now all that is left is my memories, a grave in the back yard, and a bloody t-shirt and shorts from when I found him just lying there lifeless in the back yard. God damnit I’m crying again. I haven’t cried in decades.
I’m never going to get over this. I don’t know how I am going to sleep.
This post is in: Cat Blogging, RIP
I am barely keeping it together as I write this, but Tunch was just killed a half hour ago by one of my sister’s dog. My brother was watching her and came to my house and I yelled that I didn’t want her in the house with Tunch, so he put her out back, and we heard nothing at all, but then Kiwi had blood on her face and Seth went out back and came around and broke the news. He tried to hold me back because I wouldn’t want to see it, but I had to. It looks like he died instantly with a snapped neck. I picked him up, held him for a while and had a good cry.
I got his favorite blanket and buried him in the backyard. I’m heartbroken and can not stop crying and think I need a good drunk and to just be left alone.
I love you little buddy. I can’t stop sobbing. I have no idea how I am going to sleep without you next to my head purring. How am I supposed to work without you weaving in between my legs and meowing. Damnit to hell.
And if you would, please make a donation to MARC in Tunch’s name. Tunch’s visage saved a lot of pet lives already, so let’s save a few more.
This post is in: RIP
Stuck’s pastor has confirmed that it was indeed Stuck who died:
Mr. Cole,
I can confirm to you that Steve Arnold Martin passed away after a brief lung illness in a nursing home in New Mexico. I held a memorial service on behalf of the family on June 29th. There were pictures of his dog and hummingbirds at his service. Family members were able to secure a new home for Charlie.
May God bless all who mourn his passing,
Pastor Kevin Collins
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.
by John Cole| 84 Comments
This post is in: RIP
Speaking of HBO series, James Gandolfini, who was simply amazing as Tony Soprano, has died of a heart attack in Italy at the age of 51.
Every time I listened to him breathe, I wondered if he had sleep apnea.
Big loss.