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photo / weekend — Comments Off
10
Aug 14

Catching up

The post with extra pictures returns to the place that needs them most, the Sunday space on this sleepy little site. Let’s get on with it, then.

Sometimes you just have to go to the big box stores. My second cousin needed a toy and candy and I needed to have some keys duplicated. Somewhere in all that I found a Spiderman mask. Why wouldn’t you take that opportunity?

These aren’t, by any means, the largest elephant ears my grandmother has ever grown, but they are pretty.

She’s growing things that she says are from Africa on her porch right now, huge plants that are probably trees that are threatening to overtake the place. And then she tells me she can’t grow anything, that it was really her mother that had the green thumb. A lifetime of evidence to the contrary.

Listened to this on the drive home on the 1940s channel. I’ll take it as a sign of good radio programming. Also, there are no vocals in this song:

Hodges Chapel, on the Samford University campus. I shoot this building a lot, I know, but it is on the way to my building. Also, see the crane in the background? That’s working on the construction site for the new business building, which everyone is excited to see completed:

Allie is enjoying her afternoon nap, or she would be if only I would stop disturbing her for pictures:

cycling / photo / running / Thursday — Comments Off
7
Aug 14

The difference between riding and running

I always watch other people ride and think “I wish I could be on my bike right now.” I’ve never watched people run and thought “I would love a great jog right about now.”

Maybe I just don’t run enough — and I thought about a run tonight, but I was too spent from my brief little bike ride. Maybe I haven’t jogged enough in the aggregate. Either way, the run is never is good as the ride. The road looks different, moves differently and feels different in every way.

(I’d never see the curves that way on foot.)

Maybe a good run just doesn’t teach me as many things as even a mediocre ride.

I dropped three riders on my first hill of the day. So I can be capable enough in my weakest part of the ride, if I know when to do it. I’m a fairly instinctive attacker. It felt great to swing out from that little group and go over them. I have something almost approaching a decent uphill sprint. I can be strong, in short bursts, even if I haven’t been using my legs recently. And it feels good to fly up a hill, to get to the top, look back and not see anyone there.

I struggled with my pedals, again, and had to stop to straighten the cleat in my shoe, again. So that means finding a parking lot, stopping, pulling out the multitool, taking off the shoe and tightening the screws. I think I learned why I got these shoes for a song. Those three people never did catch up. I must have dropped them hard. Unless they turned. But I take the optimistic view about these things on the bike.

I rode up and down my favorite parking deck, practicing the 180-degree turns at both ends. I probably enjoy that too much, the incline isn’t too bad and there’s all that descending to do.

I passed two other cyclists, but one of them was a kid on a sidewalk. Also, I apparently now own the top spot in one of the local sprint segments. This was all supposed to be a slow and easy ride, but my fast is so slow, I’ve learned, that I can’t tell a difference.

I did not run. There was nothing to learn from it. Maybe tomorrow evening.

memories / photo / Wednesday — Comments Off
6
Aug 14

Signs, signs

A few weeks ago I wrote about one of the signs in my grandparents’ part of the world. The old Coke sign had been there all my life, and finally it faded beyond recognition. And then the city elders, or the Chamber, or the Coke people, someone, repainted it.

This is a few years into the new version of that sign, and it still looks obnoxiously bright. For some reason all of the Coke signs of the world should be distressed or full-on ghost signs.

Except for this one, in Cartersville, Georgia, which Coke has authenticated as the original outdoor Coke sign and restored.

I took that picture in 2006. I wonder what it looks like today. Here it is in 2012.

Just down the street from the new-old Coke sign is one of the best signs ever:

I don’t know what a deer-turkey is, but I’ve always been curious to find out.

If you notice the last line it says “Drive a little to save a $” and then there’s a picture of a deer head. So they do either taxidermy or emoji. Who can say?

Anyway, said all of my sad goodbyes and sad and extra hugs and then hit the road. Stopped at campus, where we got new computers installed in the newsroom and in my office. Signed paperwork, delivered paperwork and hit the road again, for home.

Dinner with friends, and then a quiet night with the cat.

iPhone / photo / Tuesday — Comments Off
5
Aug 14

I took pictures of roses and Rudbeckia today

I forgot to take a picture of something I wanted to use for a joke later. I smiled at a stranger. I talked to someone I never speak with. I drove the long way.

I had peanuts with lunch. My 10-year-old cousin shared his candy with me. I had a nice chat with his mother.

I stared at dirt and flowers.

There were errands and downtime and a puppy and family and television news and small things like the rare perfectly microwave experience. And there was the August sun and the summer heat and flowers.

family / friends / Monday / photo / video — Comments Off
4
Aug 14

Not the normal Monday

An update to yesterday’s garage door mystery, from the prankee, himself. To set this up, he got into his car and backed out of the garage, but the garage door was closed. His wife saw him outside later kicking and beating on the door. Probably she saw him trying to put it back on the rails. That happened last week. And on Sunday:

I went for a run today for the first time in a while, it seems. I did four miles on the old road, down the hill, up the other side, around the curve and down and back up and down and turning around and repeating the whole thing. It looks like this:

The rain was from Saturday. Today it was positively summer, almost August in Alabama, even.

I met the local postal carrier. She’d written a lovely little note on my grandmother’s online obituary. That’s the way it is here, or that’s the way my grandmother lived, that so many people that she did business with have stopped to visit or attended the visitation or have written things. We had a nice chat right through here:

The postal carrier was emotional about it all too, so there I stood, sweating in mid-run, trying to keep my composure and thanking her for writing and telling her how perfect the timing of it had been. My grandmother made gifts for her, mittens for the winter and so on. She, meanwhile, had brought treats for the dog every day. I told her the truth: every time I visited, my grandmother mentioned the mail lady. She thought a lot of her, and the kindness was mutual.

It is like that a lot here.

I believe the preacher said something about that during the memorial service, to know her for even 10 minutes meant you would always know her, and always remember her.

I have had the good fortune of having several heart-to-hearts today. I visited the grocery store. My grandfather asked me if the garage door was opened or closed behind me. I looked, for a long time, through the rearview mirror. There’s no garage there, but it was a fine joke. (He’s such a strong guy, by the way, and though none of this is easy, he’s showing all of the great qualities that make him such an admirable man.)

I saw several members of the family and friends. I wrote thank you cards. I found that I wanted to write them, which is to say I wanted to have them written, but I didn’t want to go through the process of finding the things to say. I’ve added new numbers to my phone. I still have a few calls to return. Some of those will land on Tuesday.

Until then, keep an eye on those sneaky doors.