A Rose is A Rose
You know me, I don’t photograph anything that doesn’t have tons of color (after which I supersaturate the image in Photoshop turning it into a scene from What Dreams May Come), but this rose, in a Waterford Vase in Diane’s office, caught my eye. I snapped it outside on a glass table top.
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We leave Thursday afternoon for our annual, Maine, fall camping trip. Adam hurt his back, and will be home wishing he were with us, Dan, who has dropped out for good, will be in Miami on business. That leaves the two Marks, me AND a new member, Chris Schreiber, Mark’s young, strong-like-bull son.
Ginger’s told me, “You better bring my husband and my son back alive, or I will kill you.â€
Ginger’s comment reminded me of a similar one I heard last summer. As I was organizing the camping trip for Matt and his many friends, that person, who arguably loves me even more than Ginger, said, (and I paraphrase), “If you bring those kids back with so much as one hair on one head out of place, I will never forgive you.â€
hmmmm, to be killed by Ginger or not forgiven by your beloved…which is worse.
Comment by curious — October 19, 2004 @ 1:09 pm
I think even without “that person’s” admonition, we were acutely aware of the status of the hairs on their heads. But it’s hard to say in what way we put them most in danger — the unsecured and exposed tent on the frozen lakeshore in the torrential thunderstorm, or their own ubiquitous plethora of firearms and edged weapons. Their hairs weren’t the only ones we worried about mussing……..
And now I wonder if my invertebrate abstention could lay at my feet any of this year’s yet-to-be-written saga…..
Comment by den mother — October 21, 2004 @ 8:28 am
Did ever a rose be shown to look more like dead skin……….?
Comment by P.S. — October 21, 2004 @ 8:29 am