christmas chest

Christmas.  Open the wooden chest of ornaments.  All old.  All beautiful.  All delicate.  There are hundreds but each one is still precious. 

West African Ceramics

If my life was as hard as theirs, would I take the time to add beauty to functional items?

m-o-t-h-e-r

My mom.

The photo that started it

I shot this photo and immediately made a poster of it. I became aware
of my love of big black shapes when experiencing both Lautrec and
Franz Kline. Now I create them, too. It was this poster that motivated
me to create this blog. Not because of the image but because of what
I wrote on the poster.

Cupcakes

There was an old man who would always come through my checkout line
when I was a cashier at the Fruit Ranch. He called me "Cupcakes" and
tried to slip me one dollar bills. He was always smiling. The Fruit
Ranch... What a great place. I married the watermelon boy.

warmth of the sun

I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my face.  This is my husband.  His face is my face.

the warmth earth

I know, I know... mushrooms are so cliche.  But, it's getting cold outside, and it's supposed to snow tonight.  When I look at this image, I can smell the moist soil that I was laying in when I took the picture.  I miss that warm earth.

the end of another day

Closing up shop.  The same way it's been done for so many years.  I caught this image with the sun framing this worker in a way that accentuates the curve of his back.  It's almost as though the shadow reveals more about his age than his actual body.  He looked nowhere other than at his hands on the cable that shut the door one more time...

A Thanksgiving Awakening

As "the miscellaneous observer," I've begun to record some of my visual observations. This is a bone from my turkey soup that I rested on a box in my home. There is something primitive about the bone. The box is warm and rich. Natural, man-made. Old, new. Death, preservation. Out-of-place, completely at home.

A nap with my cat

It's a rare Friday afternoon when I have just woken from a nap with my
cat. My question: who enjoyed this time more, me or my cat? I wish I
could purr.

KHS

What's the point?

I haven't let anyone know I have started a blog. Isn't the point of
blogging to enable others to read? I have no interest in letting
others "in." What does that say about me?

KHS

gaping hole

A friend just emailed to touch base. We both experienced the deaths of our fathers recently. He said he feels a "gaping hole." I don't feel that gaping hole... that empty space that's left after someone's gone.

I feel bad about not feeling that gaping hole. Thinking about it makes me realize that I've missed the relationship that others have.

I'm not going to think about these things. I will force my life to be shallow so I'm less confused and frustrated.

No gaping hole.

the curse of the popery

Using Google to search for "the miscellaneous observer" I found only 5 listings. Five.

I usually see numbers in the millions. I needed to "own" that phrase so I started this blog.