Glad to see you are posting at Insty again. I first came here, a few years ago because of his links, and then more regularly because of your posting there. Long time reader, increasingly frequent commenter.
I was thinking, Mother's Day is a boon for religion, that is, the afterlife. Because who want's to believe that when mom is gone, deceased, that that's the end of her. So we have this man-made afterlife where mom goes right on living. In her best dress.
1968, summer night, Washington Square, NYC, four older black guys passing a bottle in a paper bag singing Benny King. The best rendition of "Under the Boardwalk" I have ever heard.
Svedish angst in Visconsin. Except there in the giant inverted bowl of night that is the midwest (to quote Shep) the little figure is so crushed so obliterated by the vast ever expanding ever receding nothingness of space that surrounds her you cannot even hear the scream.
Sixty, but your post would still be there with my name on it. And my real name isn't particularly secret. I just don't use it for blogging and commenting so that new acquaintances don't go googling my name and saying, "Omigod! She's one of those awful conservatives!"
Ralph, are you saying that important roots are exposed in my pictures or not?
My goal: removing those circles entirely. Would prefer trees just coming out of the ground. If that's not possible, I'll have to come up with something else and am open to suggestions.
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34 comments:
It's open season on humans in Wisconsin today, and Althouse is about to bag her first one!
"In order to pass you must answer three riddles!"
Glad to see you are posting at Insty again. I first came here, a few years ago because of his links, and then more regularly because of your posting there. Long time reader, increasingly frequent commenter.
Have a nice Mothers' Day.
Uh, like, where's the ocean?
You can't have a boardwalk without an ocean.
(you're from Jersey, you should know that)
At the Boardwalk Café...
...we'll be having some fun.
Jason (the commenter) said...
It's open season on humans in Wisconsin today, and Althouse is about to bag her first one!
"Gonna have me some fun."
"Uh, like, where's the ocean?"
It's a sewerage reclamation project. A better answer would be: where's the poop?
It's a sewerage reclamation project. A better answer would be: where's the poop?
No shit!
It's a sewerage reclamation project.
Althouse: "Excuse me sir, I'm here to reclaim my poop!"
Ann Althouse said...
"Uh, like, where's the ocean?"
It's a sewerage reclamation project. A better answer would be: where's the poop?
I know stuff like that is a fetish with some people, but fun???
I was thinking, Mother's Day is a boon for religion, that is, the afterlife. Because who want's to believe that when mom is gone, deceased, that that's the end of her. So we have this man-made afterlife where mom goes right on living. In her best dress.
Thing is, some guys do that for real.
Usually, it's the smell that attracts the cops.
Sewage reclamation project.
Sewerage is the design and construction of the infrastructure necessary to dispose of sewage.
The boardwalk extended
To the horizon with colors unbended
Lest tranquility be upended
Don’t stoop
To answer ‘where’s the poop?’
Happy Mother's Day, Althouse!
1968, summer night, Washington Square, NYC, four older black guys passing a bottle in a paper bag singing Benny King. The best rendition of "Under the Boardwalk" I have ever heard.
Lovely pictures.
If you don't mind I am making copies for our non-profit group as an example of a nice boardwalk over a marshy area.
We have a project in the works to make a path similar to this with stations for bird watchers. It will give people some good ideas.
It's a sewerage reclamation project. A better answer would be: where's the poop?
In that case you definitely don't want to be UNDER the boardwalk.
Manly Spanish athletes all over the world are in tears over the death of The Great Ballesteros. Jiminez, Olathabal, Nadal. Sergio is next.
European or African?
I did the boardwalks and crushed rock trails at Pheasant Branch Conservancy in Middleton, WI. A fab day weatherwise. Lots of people. Lots of moms.
Svedish angst in Visconsin. Except there in the giant inverted bowl of night that is the midwest (to quote Shep) the little figure is so crushed so obliterated by the vast ever expanding ever receding nothingness of space that surrounds her you cannot even hear the scream.
No joy, Freeman, "the content is unavailable."
Are your roots showing?
Time to go back to the salon.
I took the bicycle back country route to the store today.
@ Freeman.
Your link is to Facebook. Not everyone has a Facebook account. You should link to a photo site or post the URL's to the photos.
Thanks, Sixty.
DBQ, bleh. I was hoping I could use an existing account. Guess I need to sign up for Flickr.
Okay, here are the pictures hosted elsewhere.
Maybe a group of largish native stones to shore up the slope. Sixty is right, the critical fragile roots are out at the drip line.
Be glad--they used cinder blocks to edge the plant beds in my yard. Ugly and difficult to remove after 40 years.
Sixty, but your post would still be there with my name on it. And my real name isn't particularly secret. I just don't use it for blogging and commenting so that new acquaintances don't go googling my name and saying, "Omigod! She's one of those awful conservatives!"
Ralph, are you saying that important roots are exposed in my pictures or not?
My goal: removing those circles entirely. Would prefer trees just coming out of the ground. If that's not possible, I'll have to come up with something else and am open to suggestions.
Ralph, nevermind, I understand what you were saying after rereading.
Looks like a plank road to me.
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