February 12, 2010
January, 2009
Filed under: Forgotten StoriesI usually manage to upload and write about 70% of the photos I take, but occasionally an adventure or two manages to slip through my fingers. To give the forgotten images and stories their chance to shine I decided I'd gather all of the loose ends and consolidate them in a monthly entry.
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Smooth, creamy and melt-in-your mouth golden.
(Pssst! It's goose fat, you know.)
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First full moon of the new year (Cold Moon) welcomed by THE NOTHING. (I love the tiny star way above the expanding darkness.)
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I appropriated an otherwise abandoned plum tree in the backyard and named it THE SHANGO TREE. To freak out the natives (aka MY IN-LAWS) I've begun wedging oversized bones in the branches so they'll get white and weather beaten. (WE'LL SEE HOW LONG IT LASTS UNTIL MY FATHER-IN-LAW DECIDES TO UNDECORATE MY BONE TREE.)
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When Beh was alive she's sit and stare blankly for hours at a time and neither Italics nor I knew what the fuck she was up to. It wasn't until recently - very, very recently - that Italics discovered that "fixed staring" was a symptom of a brain tumor. (Beh was diagnosed with "a brain thing" around May and passed quite suddenly in early June.)
We found this incense burning frog in the local health food store when Christmas shopping on Winter Solstice and couldn't resist its Bok Chek stare.
(BEH WAS ALWAYS CHEWING UP THE FUCKING CARPET, HENCE ALL OF THE CHEWED UP FUCKING CARPET.)
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Chark Park eating part of a buttermilk oatmeal muffin.
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How I spent sick day number three. (I MEAN, SERIOUSLY, HOW DOES THIS SHIT HAPPEN IN A HOUSEHOLD OF FOUR ADULTS AND GO TOTALLY UNNOTICED AND UNCLEANED UNTIL I DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT?)
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Shakey Bear testing every pea to ensure they're all top quality.
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Shakey and Shoney looking like pea gremlins.
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It's an hour of back and forth, and constantly changing positions.
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Sun rising through the trees leading to the disturbed children's home.
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Hezbollah contemplates the garden.
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Graffiti on the door of the disturbed children's home. (I'M GOING BACK WITH A RED MARKER AND TEACHING THOSE ASBO KIDS A LESSON. <- LOL, IN GRAMMAR AND SPELLING, ANYWAY.)
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It was originally used as a home for disturbed children, but also had a stint of being an orphanage, I'm told.
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"Wank" has been scribbled on the lower left window, and "wanker" on the lower right.
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Through the trees you can see how the windows and doors have been boarded up.
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When we amble down to the semi-local cemetery (it's about a miles walk, or so) we pass a now abandoned (but still kept) home for disturbed children.
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Pac-Burger at T.G.I. Friday's (in Scotland).
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A piece of streusel topped summer fruits buttermilk coffeecake (with orange flower water!) discreetly drizzled with a Cointreau & summer fruits happy ending (LOLOLOLOL) made for my mother-in-law's birthday.
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A piece of streusel topped summer fruits buttermilk coffeecake (with orange flower water!) made for my mother-in-law's birthday.
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An impromptu dinner:
A thick cut, boneless pork chop stuffed with a feta cheese, cream cheese, sundried tomato, fresh basil and black pepper filling. Flavored with generic Italian seasoning before wrapping up in three slices of Oscar Meyer bacon. Pan fried, and then quickly roasted in the oven with a bit of white wine, mushrooms and vine-ripe tomatoes.
Verdict? Worth remembering.
(Picture snapped after dinner. (No time for arty photographs!))
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We started off the weekend on the right foot.
(And he even rolled up his Oscar Meyer bacon in a pancake.) (Maybe in another 10 years I'll be able to convince him to drench it all with maple syrup.)
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...even classier? I went to the movies the day after wearing a ripped Punisher t-shirt and a wrench necklace. (SO...DAMN...CLASSY.)
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A cock to ride in T.G.I. Friday's (in Scotland).
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Fuck, what a nightmare. This is a photo of the manometry monitor that I had to carry around last year for twenty-four hours when I was undergoing a battery of medical tests to figure out what was wrong with my stomach. (The short version? Hiatal hernia, weak stomach muscles, GERD, acid reflux and a broken stomach valve. They don't know how it happened, or how to fix it.)
It's not pictured in this photo, but a spaghetti-sized tube/wire had been fed up my nose, down my throat and into my stomach so the monitor could record my gut's activity. (I had to eat, sleep, bathe and live with the chord for an entire day - every fucking time I swallowed the wire yanked like a motherfucker causing the tube to jerk, jump and tighten in my body.)
LOL SIDE NOTE: They had to postpone this particular test because I admitted to the doctor that I was partially stoned. (She claimed the data would be "inconclusive" since I was under the influence of a relaxing drug. Pfft.) Thankfully, she thought I was cute and/or funny and simply rescheduled the monitor insertion without any sort of lecture. (Thank fucking God I didn't mention I was high to the medical stuff who performed my endoscopy because that's SERIOUSLY an experience I can totally live without undergoing again.)
