Singing, er, spinning in the rain...

It's a fun thing to do, especially when the neighbor kids are out in it, too. So they're in, like, third grade. What's your point?

(Yeah, you wish you were cool enough to spin in the rain. I know, and it's understandable. I'd be jealous of me, too.)

Orange & Blue...

sweeping, crumbling-- soil and wheat
















whispy, wand'ring-- phantom clouds
















billow, bubble-- free the rain....
tremble, flashing-- bolts of light
















nourish, liven-- purify...
burning, floating-- sky aflame....
















branches, shadow-- earthly hues...















sprinkly, spangle-- darkened dirt...















droplets, splashing-- famine's bane....




















ending, twilight--swiftly dark...

Argh and Art

Have you ever wondered what version of "Argh" is used the most? Arrgh? Aaaaargh? Arrghh? Your wondering is over: IntroducingThe Argh Page

I came across this lady's art, which I am enjoying immensely. Speaking of art, an Art & Personality experiment from BBC.
In Random Kinds of Factness today, it mentioned there is a legitimate phobia of balloons : baloniphobia, or globophobia. This is a sickness my cat constantly suffers from. But fear not, there's help. And if you thought you possessed a nameless fear? Click here.


"We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth" Pablo Picasso

S-N-O-W

Well, forget spring. I woke up to about an inch of snow today. It's mostly melted now, but the weather is still frigid. If it doesn't heat up soon, I shall be moving to Florida. Bring on the hurricanes. At least it will be warm. I might go picture crazy again today and post some snowy photogs. We shall see...

Well...

It was a looong Saturday (thus all the pictures), but a beautiful one:
















Even though traces of fall remain...

















Spring is in the earth, if not in the air...

The 'colours' of Spring

This is what I call "overcast"...
















And this is the color of wind:
















It's a cheery season here in Idaho, eh?

















Dead leaves, greenish-brown grass...

















And some kid threw his baseball into our backyard...

















Ain't it lovely here? LOL

'Tis the Season...

Since 'tis Saint Patrick's Day, here's a salute to some Irish music:

Well, a Celtic Canadian band, at least.

And actually Irish Irish musicians.

Then there's K t Tunstall (Scotland, Ireland...meh, details...)

And, of course, the ever-present, ever-obnoxious Flogging Molly...

I am not a butterfly!

Otherwise, it's pretty much true. Incidentally, 3 is my favorite color (prime numbers in general are cooler, of cousre).

Your Life Path Number is 3

Your purpose in life is to express your unique self. You are a creative and artistic person with an interesting view on life. Witty and outgoing, you enjoy sharing your crazy ideas with anyone who will listen. A total social butterfly, you're the life of any party. In love, you inspire and enchant your partner. You are often an object of fantasy and desire. While you are very talented, you sometimes lack the ambition to put your talents in play. And while your wit carries you a long way, you occasionally use it to mask your true feelings. Your natural abilities can bring you all the success in the world ... if you let them

What Is Your Life Path Number?

Pawky

(adj. Cunning; artful; sly)

Secure?

Well, I guess we don't have to worry about the port issue anymore.

So...Am I Dead Yet?

Another dream. This is, perhaps, the strangest I've had, not because of its spontaneity but it's complete absurdity. Now, I have never watched Chucky or the Bride of Chucky (there is a movie by that name, right?), but said bride appeared in--and indeed, starred in--my dream last night. She was a freaky looking, red haired doll who came "alive" after dark and committed heinous crimes, mostly killing people. The details are very scratchy, but I know for some reason, the doll would choose a family to be "loyal" to for twenty years, staying close to them at all times, apparently trying to kill them (no, that doesn't make sense to me, either). And--lucky us!--it chose my family! (You didn't see that one coming, eh?) Anyway, we decide there must be good in this demented doll and want to try to save it somehow (I don't remember how we thought we would do this, but we were convinced). The sequence of events is very vague (I think it was rather haphazard in the dream, as well), but I know we began at our house, went into our neighbor's house down the street (it was at night and we were trying to escape being killed); we also repeatedly went to a gas station on a road in a forest in a canyon. Said canyon forest road is a recurring setting in my dreams. Anyway, we eventually gave up all hope for any remaining goodness in the murder-prone doll (incidentally, we kept it from killing anyone while she was being "loyal" to us, although there was blood on occasion, though I know not what the source was...) and left it in a thrift store on a bright morning, hoping we could get far enough away before it came "alive" that evening that it couldn't find us. It did. So, we tried to "kill" it. I think there was an axe involved. It didn't work. Then we were back at the gas station, and something happened there, and someone ended up dead, but whether it was me, someone I know, or the doll, I can't remember. Needless to say, it was quite the strange reverie. If I had recently seen some horror movie, or watched a lot of them in my life, I might expect this sort of dreammare. But I haven't, and am rather perplexed as to the source of it all.

Interestingly, as I was relating this to Aunt Bee earlier, I mentioned my favorite part of dreaming is when I land--like, after falling. I don't especially like the sensation, but I am intrigued by the mystery of the subconscious and its ability to project experiences apart from motion or memory, and this is the greatest example. My mother promptly expressed her surprise, since there has, apparently, been much speculation about what would happen if one landed in a dream, a common assumption being that the dreamer would die. As I immediately checked my pulse (and have done so repeatedly since), I'm quite certain that I am, in fact, still alive. I didn't know the sensation of landing was so exceptional, even unheardof. Eh, it's a shame really. It seems to me that falling without landing would be the worse experience. If the fall has no conclusion, when do you wake up? I hate that weightless, drifting, uncontrollable illusion; the shock is much more tangible. And I can never recall what occurred before falling (although it's never a very long distance, just a few stories high or what not), only the impact, and the awakening. Eh, who knows...