More Finds, Rodney’s Stickers

Random Images

The world is vast & weird.

 

 
More treasures from coronovirus cabin fever [Found Fotos, Milton]. Stickers of photos of art work by Martine Greenlee [The Reveal]. Bought in the three finishes on offer: glossy, matte, transparent. I got the small size as test of concept. I’m sure I can find uses for the medium and the large, which is bigger than half a page. MaGree Shop on Redbubble.

Remember back when I talked about Rodney’s sweatshirt [Wearable Art]? I also ordered these stickers. They never arrived. Or, I thought they hadn’t.
 

 

Now that I see the flamboyant packaging, I do remember them arriving. This fact slipped my mind. I was convinced that they were never sent or that they had been wedged in with other stuff and overlooked. Glad I never sent that bitchy consumer letter to Redbubble.

Stay safe. Stay sane.
Katherine Walcott

Strolling To A Soundtrack, Walk Report, MLK Day Drum Run 2020

Fit To Ride

MLK Day 5K Drum Run Birmingham
Birmingham AL, USA
Saturday, January 18, 2020
 

eQs Photography


 
Results
Time – 56:02.0 (official), 55:24 (my time)
Pace – 17:27 (my time)
Overall – 288 (official), out of 311 (my estimate)
Female, Age Group – 29 out of 32 (official)

MLK Day 5K, Age Group Results, January 18, 2020, Results by The Right Time

Photos
Start photo, above, by eQs Photography, modified by purchaser. I covered up the two people. Not sure of privacy laws &/or propriety, so I just don’t. Obviously, not the photographer’s fault that I am blurry. Focus was on the two in front. eQs race photos

There is a finishing shot by a different photographer. It was more than I wanted to pay for a blog post. Click on the page, scroll down, way down. Crowder race photos

On Course
Back in January, I did my second 5K walk. Downtown Birmingham, again [Proof of Concept], slightly different route. We started on the northside near the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute.

Rain for the first half, allowing me to I feel virtuous while crawling along at a snail pace. Heavy downpour for a few moments, but cleared up before we got too soggy.

The route was lined with drum groups. Marching bands from different schools, a range of drum types. A few were lucky to be under a bridge overpass, or in a park shelter. The rest stood in the rain and kept making joyful noise as we all trudged past. It was AWESOME. By the time the sound from one group faded you started to hear the next. Afterwards, the drumlines faced off for a Battle of the Bands. Too cool. If – in the future – you get a chance to do a drum run, I highly recommend it.

No pics. Have photos. Decided against posting. Most of the performers were kids. Doubles the privacy issues.

No Medal, No Post
I was once again too slow to get a medal [Proof]. They had run out by the time I crossed the finished line. Means they had a high demand, which is good. The organizer announced that they would be getting more medals for the rest of us. Yay.

Never heard. Planned to check back once a polite amount of time had elapsed. I am certainly not going to ask them about a medal now. Since it appears I will be doing a bunch of these [Virtual Bling], I wanted to have this one in the record.

Screenshots from Map My Walk, if I remember correctly. Clearly the timing is not exact. At my pace, who cares? The elevation chart cracks me up. I thought it was a blank space at first. On the pace chart, the first dip is from a quick stop right after the start. The dips toward the end were probably photo ops.

Stay safe. Stay sane.
Katherine Walcott

We – The Unicorns … Arrive, Guest Post

Welcome Meg! [Archives]
~~~

We – The Unicorns … Arrive

Story and Photographs by Meg McKinney

 

 
A small herd of unicorns emerged from my mailbox, without prior notification, or tracking number, one day this spring. I don’t know how they got there; perhaps an admin from another universe shipped them.
 

 
Seeing these four unicorns standing at the entrance, I was reminded of a horse trailer, with the high, round roof, and loading ramp.
 

 
Upon closer a closer look (I was trying to get my mail), I could see that each one has a different personality, color, and animated features.

After a few whinnies, and I promised not to mail them back to their previous location – which they wouldn’t reveal, they told me their names.

“Mystic” is green, high-stepping, and seems ever-ready for adventure, or, at least, center stage.

“Twinkle” is pink. With mane flying, she looks ready for a gallop, here on earth, or in the clouds. She pranced about the mailbox lid, and then went back in line, when the other unicorns cautioned her about being in a new, unknown place.
 

 
“Starlight” is blue, and could be the herd’s scout, or head of security, watching for predators, or the traffic on my street.
 

 
“Melody” is purple, and looks like a staff coordinator, possibly the one who makes sure there is food and shelter wherever they roam.
 

 
Unicorns are mythical creatures, credited with an aura of innocence and power beneath their glittery surfaces. For now, this colorful, miniature herd is among us, here in Birmingham, Alabama, USA.

Let’s follow them, for as long as we can.
~~~
 

 
Photographing, and writing about, toy unicorn models is a welcome challenge presented by Virtual Brush Box, during the pandemic of the coronavirus. My professional photography work came to a sudden stop, when the shelter-in-place guidelines became effective.

The opportunity to create fictional storytelling — a complete diversion from the worlds of photojournalism and corporate photography –- is new territory, and pushes my skill sets. This is good for every photographer.

Follow “We – The Unicorns…” as they let me know when, and where, they roam.

Editor’s note: The unicorns have been traced back to a breeding farm in New Jersey, here.

Hay Commentary, Or How To Send Back A Meal When You Don’t Have Thumbs

Horsekeeping

Lucky enough to have a horse.

 

 
Sorry about the poop pic, but it was too good to resist. sorrynotsorry

For breakfast, horses get one flake of yummy, green alfalfa hay and one flake of normal, boring coastal hay. Both horses eat the good stuff first, as one does. Rodney is a member of the clean plate club these days. Milton flings the coastal out of his way with his nose. Sometimes he leaves it for elevenses. Sometimes he ignores it all together.

The rational part of my mind says that Milton pushed the coastal away and then moved about. The hay happened to end up under his nether regions. It is of note that the hay has still square from the bale.

Pffft on rational.

Here is what I think of this hay! I poop in your general direction!

Stay safe. Stay sane.
Katherine Walcott

The Mood On Monday, The Ugly Bits

Thoughts

 
A pingback from The Errant Moon (Waves hi!) led me to Imperfect Patience: Oral History. In the post, the author points out that “Publicity shots … always show pretty faces.” They talk about the need to chronicle the ugly as well as the pretty. “According to Landdeck, We are at least thirty years from the time historians will be seriously writing about what this pandemic is now doing to people. We should leave a record. And the record should not be just about the pretty people … We need to record our fears our unattractive and embarrassing fears about outbursts.”

So here I go. If you are researcher in the future, Hello & good luck with your thesis, project, book, interactive hologram.

My ugly truth is that there are no ugly bits. I get to spend the day with my husband, whose company I enjoy above all others. My horses are in the backyard, so even if I can’t ride [Or Not], I can pet noses anytime I want. Having someone around has made me more productive. I’m a week ahead on blog posts, I’m working on my fiction. I even got my work assignment submitted on time, something I have been having trouble with. Plus, there is a built-in excuse for an off day. Sloth got you down? Feeling unproductive? Well, of course you do, there’s a global pandemic going on.

Oh yeah, that.

I’m horrified. I’m terrified. I worry about those I love. I worry about strangers on the Internet. I continue to click on headlines even when the stories will stress me out. I choke up during the Thank You commercials. Still, these are all happening at a remove. I don’t know anyone who has gotten sick. The closest death has been the in-law of a friend from long ago (virtual hug). I’m still waiting on tenterhooks for that first name. That first person I know IRL.

I have been dealt an excellent hand of cards for ducking the disease. Pick an indicator, I’m on the shiny side: female, no underlying conditions, young, or at least youngish, etc, etc. I will hear that the virus disproportionately affects X segment of society and then think to myself ‘I am not in that group’ and then feel relieved and then feel bad for feeling relieved. I feel like Winston asking them to put the rats on Julia rather than on himself.

I have not wanted to say any of this. I feel reluctant to write it even now. Partly, not to tempt fate. I see how easily it could all go bad, e.g illness, job loss, disruptions to the food supply. Partly, I don’t want to be cruel. Your life has gone to shit? So sorry, we’re good over here. Haven’t seen your horse in over a month? So sad, Imma gonna go feed mine a carrot. So, I post pretty pictures and amusing stories. Or amusing pictures and pretty stories. First do no harm.

That is my ugly truth. I’m having a nice time. Except for the existential screaming.

Stay safe. Stay sane.
Katherine Walcott

We Are All In This Together

Lettering & Graphic Design

 
Update. The Disappearing Post. Short Version. Scheduled two by mistake. Removed one. Saved for later. Long version. Been a while since I’ve had a scheduling error. I guess I was due. Was having trouble with this design, see first attempt, below. Since it was getting late in the week, I scheduled a reserve post to go in this space. Then I came up with this approach. Scheduled this post. Forgot about the other one. Didn’t realize until I saw the email message. I “Follow by Email” so I can see what goes out. Good thing in this case. Took the post down. Put it back in the reserve pile. Will use. At that point, those signed up by email will get notified again. Or maybe not. We’ll all find out together. Sorry for any confusion.
~~~

 
My version of an assignment by calligrapher Carol DuBosch, “I challenged my students to create a square page with the mantra: We are all in this together.” Student work Instagram post.

See also this booklet for an amazing example of creativity with available materials.

DuBosch is the author (painter? creator?) of the previously mentioned The Calligraphic Coronavirus Chronicles [Throw Ink At It].

Process Notes. Computer fonts rather than originally drawn letters. Noticed the “square page” requirement as I scheduled the post. Ooops. My contribution was choice of fonts, colors, & spacing. Wanted to use three complimentary colors. The combination of blue, red, & yellow have their own meaning on this blog [An Attempt To Freeze Time]. So, I went with purple, orange, & green. My first attempt was an exercise in horizontal kerning. I pushed in the letters of the first and last words. The intent was closeness. The result was claustrophobic.

 

 

Stay safe. Stay sane.
Katherine Walcott

Moonrats, Fiction Fragment

Words

Team Leader: Do you know what a Lunar Liaison does?

Disgruntled Team Member: Yeah, she watches the machinery and obsesses about how much I shit.

Team Leader: “The shitting oversight is so that your colon doesn’t shut down the first time it has to process a steak in earth gravity. But that’s not what I meant. Do you understand her position?

Disgruntled Team Member: Yeah. We pay her. I saw the grant budget. Good wages for a chef.

Team Leader: How have you lived on the moon this long without having a clue?

Disgruntled Team Member starts to object. Is interrupted.

Team Leader: Do you do know that the Lunar Liaison has final authority in any project?

Disgruntled Team Member looks doubtfully at the slight woman in black seated across the table. Her expression is hidden by a pair of dark sunglasses. On the table between the three of them them rests a single screw.

Disgruntled Team Member: Her?

Team Leader: Her. If she says this project is unsafe, we are done. It’s over. We pack up and go back to Armstrong Base. No recourse. End of story. Experiments abandoned. Money forfeit. Good luck getting another lab slot after that.

Pauses. Continues.

Team Leader: As far as you are concerned, she is god. She wants us to drop everything to spend the day looking for the source of that screw, we say ‘Yes, Ma’am. Where do you want me to start?’

Disgruntled Team Member pouts: It’s so tiny.

Team Leader: Sure, it’s tiny. Maybe it fell off the back of a video game. Maybe it holds the life support backpack to your spacesuit. Do you want to take that risk?

Woman in black stirs. Starts to speak. Voice is so soft both listeners have to lean forward to hear her.

WiB: I go to bed running maintenance checklists in my head. I wake up in the middle of the night listening for the water cycler. If it was just your miserable ass on the line, I’d let you implode and write it off as death by stupidity. But it’s not. It’s all of our asses on the line. The airlock blows. We all die. The air handler releases carbon monoxide. We all die.

Disgruntled Team Member looks over at Team Leader. Finds Team Leader nodding in agreement.

WiB: We are sitting three feet away from the most hostile environment humanity has ever lived in. We are in a tent surrounded by starving bears. We are in a diving bell at the bottom of the ocean. We are in an asbestos cabin under 10 feet of molten lava. You go out there, you are dead in seconds. Is any of this getting through to you?

Disgruntled Team Member: You trying to scare me?

WiB: I don’t want you scared. I want you terrified.
~~~curtain~~~