As one who loves to take pictures, I have a list of missed shots. To qualify for the list, the photo opportunity had to present itself before my eyes while my camera was in my hands (or on my neck). The list exists only in my mind (until now).
The first missed shot that comes to mind is my young nephew in Disneyland when he almost pulled the head off of Pluto, the Disney character dog (a rapid-fire series would have been nice).
Before Christmas, I added to my missed shots list while in a Macy’s toy department with my three-year-old grandson, Jory. It would have been a string of exposures like this – (you can watch them in your mind):
Image 1: Jory looking at a toy on the shelf.
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2: Jory pulls the toy with both hands, spins around and shouts again, “PUT
THIS ON MY LIST!”
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3: Jory loses balance – staggers
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4: Jory drops toy
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5: Jory stumbles and kicks toy
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6: Jory falls on toy
I’m
standing there with camera in hand and never fired a shot!
You know that feeling you get when everything is clean, in place, and ready to go? I don’t have that confident feeling, but…. here goes.
I am moving my blog, taking it apart piece by piece and reassembling it here on my new site: www.couldausedanotherday.com.
Actually, I have moved it, this is it. I moved it from the WordPress host to an independent host. If I have succeeded, the site will have all the original content.
Other than the new Theme (the new look) the only difference you might notice is the advertising that would sometimes appear near the bottom of the blog post page. The only advertising you will see here (if any) will be ads of my choosing.
There will be some background differences you won’t notice, unless of course, my blog site is suddenly arcing through cyberspace like a flaming meteor until it hits and splatters across the inside of your monitor screen, bursting into millions of fiery pixels. So, if clicking around you see anything you think might need attention, please let me know. Leave a comment or use the new Contact page.
In the website relocating process, I have brushed up a few lines, added a few pictures, and reviewed quite a few memories. Can you believe this blog goes back nine years? And here I remain – happily among the living.
I love to write, and as long as I can entertain myself, I hope to continue.
This exercise has helped me remember how much I appreciate your reading and commenting on my posts. I don’t think I can adequately express my thanks.
I completed my annual ritual of closing the two tiny screened windows at opposite ends of our shop. They let a little air circulate. I closed them tight for the winter, along with our foundation vents and storm windows (the old kind you close separately).
Weeks ago, I retired the summer box fans from the upstairs northern windows and closed up the others. Now, I look out the windows and it’s raining leaves.
My favorite summer shirt, a tattered relic of a tie-dye tank shirt who’s odometer has rolled over at least once made it through one more season, barely. My wife, Diane, recommended it lands in the rag bag, but I was thinking more along the lines of a commemorative flag display box.
We enjoyed an August visit with our kids and grandkids in Michigan.
We got to meet some of their friends and attend our granddaughter, Sauvie’s birthday party.
Brandon has a policy of not posting his kid’s pictures online, so this might be as close as we get to seeing her here.
I helped my son, Brandon, work on his Corvair Rampside pickup. It had two or three fairly high priority issues needing attention.
It’s good to feel helpful, but I don’t think we fully resolved any issues at that time.
It was more like: identify the problem, begin the fix, and discover a part can only be ordered online to complete the fix. I think we got close on a couple repairs, so maybe I was nearly helpful.
If we were a fishermen family, he’d be proudly displaying a catch – but look how clean that automatic transmission pan is!
Brandon heard and verified by an app that there was currently a good possibility of seeing the Northern Lights from his town. If I had a bucket list, seeing and photographing those lights would probably be on it.
The moon-rise over Lake Superior was promising.
The elusive Northern Headlights in the parking lot was about as close as we got to any aurora.
It was definitely worth staying up late and hiking through the dark, up a closed “park district(?)” road to reach the most likely viewpoint on the water’s edge.
I enjoyed the hike with my son, even if we didn’t see the Northern Lights.
We enjoyed a September visit with our kids and grandkids in Florida.
We got to meet some of their friends and attend a little
kid’s birthday party (Déjà vu!).
This was the son rising when we arrived at the airport in Orlando
Their riding lawnmower would only run (very poorly) with full choke. Moving the choke to off, the motor would die immediately. I was able to clear the carburetor and install a fuel filter. It felt good to get that running right.
Later in our visit, my wife, Diane, announced that she and I
were taking our grandsons to Jeremiah’s for ice cream. Jeremiah’s specialty is a mix of ice cream
and flavored ice.
That first sounded to me like a suicide mission, but in a spirit of positive cooperation, I asked if she knew how to get to Jeremiah’s. Our daughter-in-law, Aubrie, gave her directions – printed directions.
We buckled the boys (including dinosaurs) into their third-row child safety seats and headed down the road. Diane read the directions: turn right at the first light, but then she said, “it also says to stay on this road and turn right on another street– I don’t get it.
What is your preference? I asked. “Turn right – here,” she said. I did, and she directed another right turn when we reached Orlando Ave. We now had no idea how to get where we were going, so we drove on.
She was trying to make sense of the map and directions when five-year-old Kellen asked if he could see the map. He said he knows from cell phone maps that if there is a big red question mark, that would be our destination. Diane held up the map to show him there was no red question mark on this map.
Then, two-year-old Jory asked, “Can I have the map?” He didn’t want to see the map, he wanted to have it in his hands. I was pondering the likelihood that a two-year-old might look at a road map and say, “Yes, you need to turn right at the next light,” when much to my surprise, Diane turns around and stretches to reach back to hand him the map (the boys were sitting in the third row – in the very back). I hear Jory say, “Oh-Owwwh…. it fell down (between the seats). I can’t reach it.”
Diane can’t reach it either. We continue down the road with no directions and no clue. The apparently worthless map was stuck somewhere back there between the seats. I was wondering if this had ever been a plot for an episode of The Twilight Zone.
‘There’s a store,” Diane said, “I need to stop.” She went in and I was attempting to get directions on the phone – but it began ringing. It was our son, Robin, calling to see how we were doing.
I told him we were lost.
He said he found page two of the directions still on the printer. I thought, “that perfectly fits this story.”
He told us to go the opposite direction on Orlando until we see Firehouse Subs, Nathan’s is behind it. We did, found and ate ice cream with flavored ice and made it home with all present and accounted for (including dinosaurs).
After four weeks of twice-daily sinus rinsing and thrice daily nasal spraying, my asthma/allergy specialist stated the cause of my nearly constant post nasal drip – causing nearly constant throat clearing and cough – remains unknown. Not just unknown, after all the tests, there is not one clue.
My latest quarterly cancer test result was again my favorite outcome – “Stable.” I can live with that. It may be as close as I can get…… to normalcy?
I remain thankful to God for this life full of blessings.
God is great, life is good, and grandkids are amazing.
I was looking out through the little windows in our front door one morning when the furnace came on. I felt the heat from the register next to the door and waved my bare foot over it noting that it wasn’t putting out much warm air.
Could something be wrong with the furnace? I checked the next register and it was producing much more air. Has the duct disconnected? Did it somehow get crushed or has it become a comfortable home to a small animal under the house? I made a mental note to check it out very soon.
I put it on my “mental note” list, walked out the door and promptly forgot about it. If the thought had survived long enough to land on my written list, it wouldn’t have made much difference.
I keep lists to remember and prioritize, but lately, I haven’t been adding to or even looking at the master list or its sub-lists. Lists are no longer necessary; all I have to do is look left or look right and I see multiple things demanding time and attention.
I recently stepped into a block of time that was too small to start or resume a project, but big enough that I could……….. What could I do with this unoccupied, uncommitted moment?
I looked to the left and saw the furnace register – I could push my inspection camera (cable camera) down that heater vent (instead of crawling under the house with a baseball bat and generic varmint eviction notice) and try to discover what is restricting the air flow.
I pulled the register cover off and fed the cable camera down the hole. The cover is not fastened to the floor, it’s just a snug, drop-in fit. The camera sent a live video report to my cell phone.
I could see something resting in the black, flexible, insulated duct. A small, rolled up blanket? No, it turned out to be a shirt, a kid’s shirt size 2t – but there’s more! Behind the shirt was a pair of kids Oshkosh size 6 (US) shoes!
Careful analysis of this evidence produced a short list of suspects or persons of interest who may have witnessed or might otherwise have some knowledge of how those clothing items came to be abandoned in the duct, and could possibly shed some light on the motivation(s) for whoever put them there.
Maybe they were wet and it seemed a good place to dry them
My ear-nose-throat doctor thought Pulmonary Function Testing (including a Meth test – the Methacholine challenge) would be prudent to rule out my lungs as the source of my chronic cough and throat clearing, before talking seriously about the previously mentioned, “procedure.”
I took two tests. Both involved a lot of breathing and hard blowing into a mouthpiece connected to a hose. I suggested the technicians might enjoy more enthusiastic patient participation if the mouthpiece incorporated a kazoo.
