Monday, June 20, 2011

My Boys

What is it about baseball that keeps us young? That allows men to feel like boys? That creates this bond between father and son? Bryant Gumbel said, "The other sports are just sports. Baseball is a love."
I never thought that I would feel that way, but it has this quality of being something bigger, something to be revered. I love going to my son's games, learning the strategy involved, watching these 11-year-old boys turn double plays and steal second and lay down beautiful bunts. I'm afraid it is getting into my blood.
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This photo was entered into the I Heart Faces photo challenge

Tuesday, June 7, 2011


I have issues. I am willing to admit it. For as long as I can remember, I have loved pens.
I'll backpedal and admit thatI love handwriting, but that didn't start until later in life. My mother forced my 5th grade teacher to give me a failing grade in handwriting because my writing was so atrocious. Fast forward to the 8th grade, when I had an ecentric teacher who made us practice handwriting everyday. And she marked it wrong if it didn't match hers exactly. So, although she was bizarre and intense (really intense) I credit her with improving my handwriting and helping me to love the art of forming letters.
So, why this picture? I took it for a "Collection" theme. These are bottles of fountain pen ink. Yes, you can still buy that stuff. I absolutely love writing with fountain pens. There is something about the liquid ink, the way that there are variations of depth of color in each stroke of the pen, that seem like artwork to me. I especially love it when I use certain papers and the blue lines repel the ink a little bit, giving even more variations in the pen stroke.
If I didn't know it would be completely insane, I'd have even more bottles of this stuff. Yeah, I get ink all over my hands. Sure, the liquid ink smudges easily. Yes, I have ended up with fountain pen ink on my face. But it's all worth it for the handwriting. In this day and age of email and text, we are losing the personal touch of a nice, handwritten note.
And so I treasure my bottles of old-fashioned, impractical, fountain pen ink.

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Saturday, June 4, 2011


Surprise, indeed. The entry didn't post. whoops.