That. Ain't. No. Bird.
Enter your amusing name for this creature, or a caption, or something –– in the comments area below and I will pluck a lucky winner from the crowd and award him or her a prize.
Such as, perhaps, a bar of homemade almond-oatmeal soap –– or an actual physical book. Or maybe lunch. As the whim takes me. Thanks for stopping by, and thanks in advance for playing!
When the favored daughter of Zeus offers to jostle you about at a high rate of speed, should you refuse?
Does this Diana seem entirely trustworthy? Would she work at the State Fair if everything was, you know –– cool with her? She scares the bejeebers out of me.
Still, in the spirit of competition and fun, write a funny caption in the comments below and a lucky winner will receive a surprising trinket in the mail as a prize. Or possibly a bar of homemade soap. Good luck!
I took this photo in Rome. I don't actually remember why I took it or what I was hoping to memorialize. Nor why I manipulated the color to make it pop like a 1970's postcard.
But while flicking through the many images from that trip, this one struck me as asking for an explanation. A line of dialogue. Something.
So you tell me. Jot down your story, dialogue, caption, in the comments area below.
Winning entrant to be determined not quite at random, as this is a contest. But he, she, or they has a darned good chance to win a plasticky prize of uncertain provenance and dubious value.
Or maybe a pie.
Thanks for the many suggestions for what to name Mr. Linton's new creation!
Because we are flitting about on the road for some weeks, the contest is still open and my blogging will be intermittent. Hoping everyone is having a wonderful July...
That boat was followed by Mousetrap, another Moth. Several of that design were constructed in a porchlight frenzy in the boat-yard.
I believe there's a pupal stage Moth in Rod K.'s garage, and some others in hibernation here and there. The Mousetrap attempted to self-destruct via heat-lamp that first winter –– an unsuccessful effort, for which the house was especially thankful –– but has since gone on to numerous Midwinter and North American victories.
A decade or so later, Frankenscot came to life in the boat-yard. The reanimated corpse of an elderly Flying Scot, Frankie won its division in the Everglades Challenge, gave a few thrill rides to some lucky sailors, and then sloped off the pages of history.
Now, there's the new boat, which I have been calling "the new boat" or "Frankie's Spawn" "The Yet-Unnamed Boat" or "Child of Frankenscot." All names that seem clunky, imprecise, and unimaginative. And confusing.
The contest portion of today's blog: name the boat. The boat is
Make your suggestion below, please, so I can keep track of who said what.
There's at least one prize in it, and I can tell you the word "fabulous" nearly always goes next to the word "prize" in my world.
Fabulous prizes to be awarded utterly at our discretion, though we are pretty free and easy with the loot of questionable value (just ask any of the previous prizewinners).
While holding the end of the small dog's leash on a recent walk, I spotted this hubcap hanging on the outside of a fence. The lyrics from the B-52's "Love Shack" ("Look at my Chrysler, it's as big as a whale/ and it's about to set sail!") started up on the internal jukebox, but then I wondered -- to what car did this belong?
Tell me the story -- there's a prize or two in it for some smart car historian or decent liar.
Hmm. Thanks to the magic of translate Google I'm going to just go ahead and coin this one: Rückwirkendneid. (Oooh, as a special bonus, they threw in an umlaut!) That would be Google-German for "retroactive envy." Close enough for my purposes, espcially with that extra-Teutonic umlaut.
What things beget Rückwirkendneid in the husk of my heart?
Oh, let's see. There's a short list of novels I wish I had written (Elizabeth Knox's Mortal Fire, Jasper Fford's The Eyre Affair, and Kate Atkinson's Life after Life). And inventions -- like my pal K, I wish I had been the one to figure out that sun-protection neck gaiters were going to be a thing. Also, I wish I had invented Tervis Tumblers because they make people so happy. And also, this website devoted to a collection of cool musical covers also kind of does it to me too.
Tell me what gives you Rückwirkendneid (comment below) and I will send the top three responses (or perhaps the first three! or maybe the three regular contributors who have commented on past posts!) a super-neato prize. Or anyway a "prize." Past winners have received things like paperback novels, handmade soaps, and lunch at my favorite Chinese place.
Some phrases lose their vibrancy the farther they get from their vivid beginnings. Once upon a time, someone was darn proud to have invented the metaphor, "She's as busy as a bee," but time and use wore it out and made it into a tired old cliché.
Same fate for "stubborn as a mule." Who among us these days knows the depth of a mule's character? Without an understanding of mules, this comparison doesn't help us get a clear picture of anything.
Back in the day, however, people who knew mules hearing this would nod sagely and think, "That was one stubborn fella."
Sometimes a phrase wanders so far its origin as to be nonsensical: "avoid it like the plague," "dead as a doornail," or "three sheets to the wind"? Wha--? A person can parse them to make sense, but the expressions are fossils.
With that in mind, today's visual pun came as a fresh view (to me at least, after Uncle Mark pointed it out) of a fairly common phrase. Be the first to identify the phrase in a comment below and win a prize.
Why this picture? To start with, it's not a squirrel.
It's been a while, but I do have some pretty cool prizes that are just aching to be awarded to a dear reader or two. Here's the deal: make up a funny/entertaining caption for this photo, jot it down as a comment below, and you might earn yourself or a loved one a prize.
Past prizes have included homemade soap, books, a big neoprene wine-bottle coolie cup. There's also a jar of Flarp that needs a good home.
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