A Guest at the Party

One of my favorite things to do when watching a movie I know well is to watch the extras, or the actors in supporting roles when they are used as set dressing. I watch their performances intently, hoping to catch them out of character. Maybe their focus is off somewhere else (are they supposed to be looking somewhere off in the distance like that, or has their mind unconsciously wandered?), or I wonder if the inaudible conversation they are having with another actor has anything to do with the film. I wish I could read lips. (more…)

Alice Street

bad paint job“Go back the way you came…” the woman started to explain.

“What, that way?” he said pointing back over his shoulder.

“Is that the way you came?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, then, go down the street to your left and when you get to the house with the bad paint job…”

He held up his hand. “Wait, wait. Do I go back the way I came, back that’away, or do I take a left?”

“Either works. You’ll see the house with the bad paint job either way you go.” (more…)

The Common Corps

avant gardeIf I have ever been, or will ever be on the outer edge of a thing, it will only be my own life. I know what it is to explore the fringes of my world, but not that of an entire society. Nor am I interested in being part of such a front line. Fact is, I am happily enlisted with the Common Corps.

That doesn’t mean I avoid those who deliberately seek the unusual and strive for originality. I am an excited observer of many things that play on the brink of what is familiar, and I like being enthralled with the unexpected. But I also genuinely enjoy the mastery of things that are common. I don’t reject either the mainstream or the unusual. (more…)

And lately, a long lately…

boredI’ve commented on WordPress blog prompts before. As previously stated, I have a like/dislike of them. They are not always inspiring and many times ask us to reveal more personal insight than I wish to put in my blog. But more often than not, one will provoke me in some way to respond. For that reason I check in every day, like a kid anxious to see what the prize in the cereal box will turn out to be. (more…)

The Four-minute Rabbit

Me at a recent visit to John Updike's childhood home, which is in the planning stages as future museum of the "Rabbit, Run" author's life and times.

Me at a recent visit to John Updike’s childhood home, which is in the planning stages as a future museum dedicated to the “Rabbit, Run” author’s life and times.

My family is a rare breed of city park-dwelling bunny rabbits. Our folks moved all 1,023 of us kits to a sprawling urban farm where we had acres of carrots, spring greens and kale to feed on. Our father taught us how to evade Wabbit Season and Mr. McGregor, while our mother made sure we knew our dandelions from our thistles. It was an idyllic childhood.

After completing my education at the Beatrix Potter Academy, I enrolled at the University of Lagomorpha where I majored in Medical Testing and minored Easter Basket Weaving, graduating Ochotonidae Cum Laude. Instead of settling down right away like all 721 of my sisters did, I decided to pursue a graduate degree. Like all good cottontails, I put myself through graduate school working as a Playboy Bunny at the Rarebit Den. There I met the famous milliner Mads Cloche. We dated for a while, but I soon discovered he was extremely unhinged with a self-destructive tea time addiction. I broke it off and focused on finishing my studies, finally completing my dissertation in Cutaneous Saltation. (more…)

Smiley Santa Foyle

For Prompt this, if you dare challenge (Take three or so of the most searched posts on your blog. Write a post that fuses them together): I was hoping to come up with something absurd, but I guess my mind’s gears don’t grind that way. My three most searched tags/posts are: Naked Santa, Smiley Face and Foyle’s War


Rhonda let out a little giggle, and with a bright smile that spread from ear to ear, took out the silly naked Santa Claus doll from the box of the other odd-ball Christmas decorations and tree ornaments. So many happy memories were attached to this funny little guy. (more…)

Oh, Scotland, my (ancestral) Scotland

Clan Rose Hunting Tartan

Rose Clan Hunting Tartan

I don’t know all that much about my mother’s ancestry except to say, from what I’ve been told, there is some English, but mostly Irish, and then, mostly Northern. So is much of my father’s ancestry on his mother’s side, Irish that is, but in his case, mostly Catholic. And then there is my father’s lineage; my “sire-ship,” which is entirely Scottish. Highland clan, Scottish. To make matters more complicated, my father was a total and complete anglophile.

To say that I am feeling every one of my recently past relatives and our mutual ancestors turning in their graves, and that I’m feeling very, very multiple personality-like today, as Scots vote to secede from the UK or not, would be accurate. I literally don’t know which way to turn.

So, I thank the Great Whomever that I ended up being born into a multi-generational, died-in-the-wool colonial American family line. Otherwise, today’s vote would be a very difficult tug-o-war to have to endure. If Scotland stays with Mother England, whatever. It seemed to work, one way or the other, for not only the past 300 years, but off-and-on before that. If they do split, well, all I can say, as an American, is…it will be rough at first, and probably for a good long while, but they’ll get the hang of it. Eventually.