Sunday, December 11, 2011


These men were greeters
at a hotel at Disneyland.
The one on the left is
playing the part. The other
fellow looks "real" to me.
OVER TIME, as I've downloaded photos onto my computer, I've tucked images into a folder labeled "Blog possibilities". As you know, sometimes several of the pictures together yield possibilities to illustrate a story for the day's entry. 

However, there are in excess of 2,000 items just sitting there, a little like the envelope of what I call "bastard stamps", gathered every time postage rises to the point that I don't even know what some of the denominations are. Mr. Bob refuses to use them to mail his bills, so it falls to me as the thrifty one to find uses for those bits of paper. 
I wish we could sit down together and sift through some of these gathered images, although I know that your attention span would expire before we got very far, so my intent (the road to hell is paved with those, you realize) is to grab a random dozen of them every weekend and share them. Whether you'll find that interesting or not is anyone's guess. We'll find out soon enough, by the comments.
Here we go:

I'm a bit appalled to look back and see the size of servings I used to dish up. My servings are far smaller now; yet I'm much bigger. 

Remember the blanket I wanted to make for Owen, with stripes going alternating directions, only I ended up with 36 trapezoids? Frances saved the day, but my plan was thwarted, par for my craft course.

Why in the world? Was this a mistake? I found it too interesting to toss. Now I can.

Montrose is a prime area for studios to shoot movies. Our store came close to being chosen, but plans never culminated. They pay big bucks and make a big mess.

My second (and last, knock on wood) bout with gout. What you see is uric acid crystals trying to rise to the surface. Hurt like a son of a gun and took forever to heal. 

Usually patriotic, I find this scene amusing when maybe I shouldn't. 

Do you love this sign? Is that one hour later for opening or closing?

Mr. Bob is a tough nut to crack.

This appeared in a blog long ago. It was the view from our table as we celebrated our 49th wedding anniversary.

I may yet do a series of houses high on a hill. The idea intrigues me. 

Proof that I had a droopy right eye all along. Talk about short hair!

"True nostalgia is an ephemeral composition of disjointed memories." Florence King


  1. The randomness is exquisite and interesting, as usual. Fun file tidying.

  2. WOW! I enjoyed this a lot ! Keep it up Babe!
    A Non Y Mouse

  3. We would watch paint dry if you had wielded the brush. You just make stuff interesting, darn it.

  4. I'm so glad I get to sit by and watch you go through the old files...wish I could have done like wise when you were doing the moving out exercise. T.O. Joanne

  5. It's a bit like the fun of peeking through someone's open window---can I mean that in a good way?

    Where did you celebrate your 49th? If it's local, I'd guess Castaways.

  6. Oh, Jane -- this is a great idea! Fun photos! And your comments are pithy gems! (try quickly saying that 5 times!) Did not know about the gout -- hope it has not occurred since then.

    Good point about the filming in Montrose! The large trailers used to fill the parking lot on my street. I wish OUaT had been chosen for a backdrop or something, though. Love, Jeannie

    ps Your baby picture has the same pose and expression as mine!!

  7. A random "lookback." Always fun!
    I was always intrigued by those houses high on a hill, too!

  8. Love it!! Stories... A picture tells a story and you tell great stories... The gout deal i never knew.. Love it Jane!

  9. Fun post! Looking forward to future pictures from your "blogging possibility"n file. Love, Shelley

  10. This woman is enjoying your "randomness" a lot!

    Sending happy-health hopes --


  11. Susan H writes: What a wonderful collection of memories and pictues. Be well, both of you!

  12. These are just a joy--I smiled and laughed throughout them all...well, all excepting maybe the one of the poor sore finger. ouch!