Picture Day!

Remember picture day? At my house it involved a fair amount of squabbling between my mother and I as we butted definitions regarding what was my most attractive outfit. She favored crisp, navy and red dresses; I favored anything pink or purple or, I fear, paisley (this was the 70s, after all). And, inevitably, she would spend forever on my then waist-length hair, coaxing it into pretty waves that would, of course, fall out by picture time. (These days my hair has inexplicably chosen to have natural waves…..that I spend time straightening every day with a ceramic brush or a straightening iron….just try to tell me life isn’t ironic.) Any, this is not that kind of picture day. Rather, it is the kind of picture day wherein I am just daring enough to taunt Blogger by trying to upload some photos that will undoubtedly make it stomp its little feet and howl with rage. Never let it be said that I don’t live dangerously.

This first:

…is in our back yard. I just loved the crisp redness of these leaves. Just off camera is, horrifyingly enough, a spider web strung from the low branch of the tree to the ground, with a large spider pulsating menacingly in the middle. If the picture isn’t all that great, consider that I was taking it while trying to keep one eye glued on the spider and while trembling slightly. It is also worth pointing out here that my skill with a camera is such that, if you have the choice of having me take your picture and having the most important event of your life—say, your wedding day—captured on paper by a three-year-old with the 64-pack of crayola crayons, take the kid with the crayons. Every single time. You won’t regret it.

This next picture is one of the stepcats, Miss:



I like this picture, largely because she looks so interested in something, so like the mighty hunters that are her ancestors…..and not a bit like the egg with legs that she actually is. I swear, the fat gene could be easily isolated from this cat. We don’t feed her any more than anyone else, but I’m still half afraid that we may be shopping for a new cat door in the “stout” section of the pet store one of these days.

The view from the upstairs passageway, just outside my anatomy and physiology lab:


It really is that pretty around here. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am, but views like this bring it back to me. See the row of mountains in the distance? I wasn’t ever in the right place to get a picture of Mount Rainier for you, but I’ll do it one of these days. It’s Seattle slang to say “the mountain’s out” when the weather is clear enough to see it well….we know it doesn’t really go away but, during those long gray winters, we still wonder just a bit.

Mr. K’s second sock, nearly completed:

He loves the first and I’ll have this one done tonight, most likely. As you can see, he wanted ‘em looooooong. I nestled it in this lovely red tree on campus, proving once and for all that I very much love the wonderful folk who read my blog and will stop at nothing to make pretty pictures for you (nothing short of acquiring talent with a camera, that is), because I was getting quite a few interesting looks from the still somewhat pubescent boys. What, your mothers don’t go around balancing partially knitted socks in autumn trees and then frantically snapping photos before they fall out? Huh. Weird. Then again, I think anyone who walks around with his pants hanging off his ass and his boxers as the main fashion statement has a hell of a nerve calling me weird, yes?

And finally, this shot of the backyard, simply because it looked so pretty when I drove into the driveway.



The barn-looking thing is really a toolshed, and one which I typically refuse to enter for fear of hooved spiders. After all, these ones have tools…..that can’t be good.

Lastly, I have a funny for you—probably the funniest part of my day. I had an appointment with my doctor today (nothing interesting enough to write about, or serious enough to worry about, I promise) and she wanted me to see a specialist for something but couldn’t remember the name. No worries—she would have someone call me. After I finished class, I found a message on my phone so quickly dug out a pen and paper for the name and number of the doc and called them back. First they put me on hold for about 12 years (no, I never exaggerate….why do you ask?). Then there ensued a conversation that rivaled Abbot and Costello for sheer frustration and misdirection. She couldn’t figure out what I needed and I couldn’t figure out what she meant and—well. You understand. But I was nice to her because I’ve done her job and frankly, I would hug every single medical receptionist in the world if I could because really: if you have an employment choice of medical receptionist or setting fire to your nose hairs while singing broadway show tunes and poking yourself repeatedly in the leg with a fork, the medical receptionist one would be the riskier choice. Seriously. Anyhow, we finally got it figured out and she gave me the name of the guy. Great, I said—can you spell his name? And she did—just like this: “Oh, sure. That’s K like in cat…..” I was so glad that she realized what she’d said….’cause if she hadn’t, laughing would have been just plain mean.