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Monthly Archives: January 2014
Forty eighth in a series creating a collage using five elements.
This is John Capewell’s eldest son John, Junior who looks like he’s in some sort of body cast. I’m not sure if it was the result of an accident or maybe some corrective measure was taken for curvature of the … Continue reading
The Finger Factory? Was it a cottage industry or was there a brick and mortar building where workers punched a time clock to crank out life-like severed fingers?
These bars are sort of like my recipe for lemon bars – if my lemon bars were dressed up for a night out on the town. The addition of rolled oats, brown sugar, and sweetened condensed milk, make them especially … Continue reading
Forty seventh in a series creating a collage using five elements.
Unlike the photograph in last week’s post, I know what the subject is and where John Capewell was when he took this exposure. This was and is The George Washington Equestrian Monument in Richmond, Virginia. It looks as if Capewell … Continue reading
It was the “BIG” Christmas surprise from my friend Dan – a Kindle. You know, the jaw dropping, shock when you open a gift and have your socks knocked off? Yeah, it was one of those! I love my Kindle – … Continue reading
Sorry. I can’t resist a pun, and I’ve been itching to use this since the late 1970s.
Determined to lift myself out of my “what-to-make-for-dinner” fog, I give you Chicken with Tomato Peanut Sauce that I found on relish. Breaded, boneless chicken thighs, browned on top of the stove, and finished off in the crock pot. I … Continue reading
More old sign love – I spotted this beauty on an errand run!
I posted this monument/fountain not knowing what or where it was or is, hoping that one of my faithful readers would come through, and my readers came through! A couple people suggested that this was in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park, but … Continue reading
I have here a mystery that I’m hoping won’t remain a mystery for long. John Capewell thought enough of this to shoot a glass negative, but sadly, I don’t know what it is.
…as if the intricacies of movement were as byzantine as a minuet.