Garry in blue down by the Mumford Dam in downtown (!) Uxbridge. Background includes the falls and dam, Route 16 bridge, and the odd floral bush.
Are you more a thinker or a doer?
Either I just do it and then have a lifetime to think about how I — if I’d thought about it more — could have done it better or preferably, not at all. As an alternative, I think about it, decide not to do it, then spend years wishing I had done it.
As a third choice, I think, rethink, change my mind, begin the process, stop — write something or take a few pictures — while completely forgetting what I was going to do. When finally I remember my original intention, it doesn’t seem all that important so I read a book.
Why is beauty associated with mortality?
Because dead people putrefy? Because rotting bodies aren’t as attractive as live ones? Even when that individual — when alive — wasn’t beautiful they look worse when dead.
As proof of this statement, I have yet to see a single advertisement for anything using rotting corpses. I mean — seriously — dead people don’t enjoy beer and don’t look good in snug jeans. I’m pretty sure if advertisers aren’t using corpses (who would probably not need to be paid, so it would definitely be to their advantage to work with the dead), it’s probably because corpses are not attractive.
But when I die, hey, if you think this is a good idea, by all means. I’m pretty sure I won’t care.
If everyone spoke their mind (told the literal truth), would this world be a better place?
No. It would be just like it is but worse. Life would be harder, colder, and even more full of blowhards who don’t bother to give a moment’s thought before running their mouths. It’s bad enough now. That would make it oh so much worse.
Your mouth is not supposed to be where random crap just falls out. We are supposed to think. That is why we have brains — which are supposed to be in charge of our mouths. Ponder that.
In the toilet, things just “fall out.” When they stink, you flush them away.
Sadly, once said, you have put it into the world and can never make it go away. There’s no flushing your words. They sear permanently on the minds of whoever is unlucky enough to hear them.
Your mouth isn’t supposed to be the verbal end of your anus. What comes out of it is supposed to have polish. Class. Wit. Elegance. Kindness. Compassion. Love. Maybe even brilliance. Toddlers say whatever flows into their unkempt young minds and that’s okay. They were born to learn and we teach them to not grow up and continue to act like toddlers.
I am sick to death of people who think they are “special” because they don’t know when to shut up.
We went to a party (left early) where one (drunken) woman was blathering endlessly about how proud she was to have started smoking again now that she was done with chemo and cancer. She was proud of this. She has a daughter. What’s her message?
What happened to class? Grammar? Elegant phrasing? Facts before opinions? Where went wit and cleverness? Concepts based on research? Has intelligence gone completely out of style? If it has, we are doomed.
Can religious beliefs affect scientific thinking?
Amongst the stupid, yes. Brighter people don’t seem to have this problem.
An attitude of gratitude: If you’d like to, share some gratitude in a photo, written, or song.
The day is bright and sunny and for this small thing, praised be the rain gods for going somewhere else to do their thing.
All photography Garry Armstrong
Today is another doctor visit, the follow-up to the follow-up of the tests which were the follow-up to the original meeting — and all the other tests. None of which have provided any significant information. But she is the best-looking neurologist Garry has ever met and he would be terribly disappointed to miss this appointment.
You know how the doctors on television shows have these smashingly gorgeous physicians? She is one of them. Ready for television now — without extra makeup.
It’s probably worth the $40 copay to watch Garry enjoy the view.
But this isn’t about our humdrum doctor’s visit. No, this is about the overwrought traffic sign we have in the middle of Uxbridge.
Remember that we are a one road town. Two lanes, one in each direction. There is a crossroad, though the two ends of it are about a block apart. I’m sure someone knows why, but I am not one of them.
Recently, the decision was made that what we really need to spruce up little old Uxbridge was an especially complicated pedestrian crossing sign. It’s so long, I doubt anyone has read it except us because Garry took a picture of it. This morning, looking at the picture of it again, I wondered where the town got it and how much it cost.
It took me four different traffic sign companies before I found it, but I did. I am relentless in the pursuit of trivia. If that isn’t humdrum, I just don’t know what is.
It was not even expensive, so I still don’t know what they do with our tax money, other than repaving the same section of Main Street every year for the past 19 years. Maybe it’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with the town water.
I thought everyone was going to get tired of birds. Honestly, I thought I would get tired of the birds, but it turns out, I find them beautiful and love having them around.
I yell at the squirrels, but I don’t mind them having a piece of the buffet. I would just prefer they not eat all of it every single day. I have switched to cheaper feed. I really couldn’t keep up the high-class buffet with such massive eating going on!
The trouble is, our squirrels are becoming less and less afraid of me. Now I have to make loud noises or they just sit there and stare back at me and I swear they are saying, “Oh yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?”
Truthfully, not much. Make more noise? Wave the broom at them? Or, we could train them to be better trained members of our burgeoning household.
There are endings … and then there are final endings. This particular cemetery is in the middle of town, right across from the waterfall. It predates the Revolutionary War and many soldiers through World War I are buried there.
Our Commons is also full of memorials to those who died in the Civil War, World War I and II … and more. If we have many more wars, there will be no space left on the Commons. It will be entirely composed of war memorials.
That’s a thought to ponder, isn’t it?
Photography: Garry Armstrong
Is it really the last sunny day? I don’t think so, but it’s the last one until sometime next week. At least it wasn’t bitterly cold and it only rained for part of the day. That’s good, right?
I am sure the sun will return. I can only wonder when that will be. Maybe we’ll get a surprise. You just never know.
It’s gray, rainy, cold and the world is made of mud. No hope of flowers because it still feels like the end of winter.
Then, suddenly, the sun appears and you get a couple of warm day and the world explodes in color. Breathtaking barely describes it. It’s like a new world, a new planet. The sky is blue, the birds are singing. Of course, the squirrels are still eating all the seeds, but the lawn got mowed, the dead bushes are gone, there’s a tall fence to keep Duke in the yard where he belongs … for today, at least, the world is just perfect.
Garry went out and took pictures yesterday. Me too. I got serious about birds. He got serious about Uxbridge. There are so many pictures, I have barely had time to scrape along the edges of the more than 200 pictures from just yesterday. Call this “Breathtaking Sample 1” with more to follow!