So Now I’m The Crazy Neighbor
My mother thought a good idea for a Mother’s Day present for my grandmother would be a framed photo of myself with Pugly, but she said that the photos I’ve taken of myself with the wigs on are all so fun that I should do the portrait with a wig on. O.K. No problem. In New Orleans, I used to do the costume wigs and costume stuff all of the time.
O.K. This is Maine. Definitely not the same as New Orleans.
And rural Maine? You cannot go out of your front door wearing a blue page wig, a Indian-made blouse, and blue jeans and carrying a tripod, a camera and a Pug and not have every single one of your neighbors come to the edge of your yard and stare like you’re about to climb up a water tower with a rifle or something.
I did actually try to explain that I was doing a Mother’s Day photo project at my mom’s request but they just kind of looked at me odd.
Now, the people who live next door with the Pug won’t even look at me when they’re walking their dog at the same time I’m walking Pugly.
And the sad part is that the pictures didn’t come out because of the position of the sun and some horrendous squinting I did. So Gramma ended up with a lovely photograph of just Pugly, which is probably better anyway.
tags: Pug, dog, the puppy, neighbors, dress up, New Orleans, rural, Maine, Mother\\\'s Day, family
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on May 14, 2007 at 3:54 pm
HippieChyck said:
i think u should climb the water tower in your wigs and heels. then crown it with a tiara.
on June 16, 2007 at 6:15 am
Poetry said:
4 June 2007
After the storm, my mind cleared.
And a high wind arose and blew the tropics north.
running quartz crystals through a blender.
sand through your engines.
bubbles in your bays.
estuaries reaching out toward forbidden seas…
sand through your eyes.
5 June 2007
Calm as baby’s breath
as peaceful as the storm’s eye
Clouds spread and drawn with rough strokes of stratospheric winds
a warm and windy tropical day.
7 June 2007
Black water at dusk.
Lighting on the horizon.
Warm winds coming in across the darkening waters.
A flash of white wings as an egret takes flight.
And Thunder like God clearing his throat.
8 June 2007
Morning star in the still of the clear, dark waters.
a sky as clear eyed as a young girl.
bruised and tattered storm remnants limp off in the gathering light.
9 June 2007
Tickled her fancy.
giggling all the day long.
pretty good for a Saturday.
Clouds on the lake floating aimlessly by.
She smiled big–grinned really.
12 JUne 2007
A silver sky
ripe for the mirror.
you can not see yourself in this mirror
you can only see others
moreover, you can only see what others choose to expose.
Their houses, their boats, their sea-doos.
Birds skimming low over the water could
like as not
see them selves if they were to look down
as they skim low over the water
but they never do.
Rather they allow their reflections to chase them
quick and sharp over the still, glistening waters
while the bird’s mind remains ever fixed on
food, or other birds, or escaping those damn noisy humans.
A dense forest impenetrable as a gaze.
13 JUne 2007
Like angry bee’s eyes
the metal screen seen through the bamboo blinds.
A million insects dot the lake spreading micro ripples
14 June 2007
Of Fly Catchers and hidden lakes.
Of sleeping lizards and morning dew.
It is of birdsong and misty dawns
and fleeced clouds floating in a still pool.
The waters ripple awake in the gathering morn.
The first water birds head out for the far shore.