Photo Montage

A motel we did not stay at on the way to Florida, whose signage met the perfect shade of dusk.


Ripley's Aquarium of the Smokies in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, as testifies my skullcap, purchased thereat.


Where can that fish be? It is a most elusive fish. And it went wherever I did go. Oh fishy, fishy, fishy fish. A fish, a fish, a fish, a fishy-o. Oh fishy, fishy, fishy fish, that went wherever I did go.


Father and sister, under the sea, in an octopus' garden, in the shade.


The look on sister Emily's face is so purely human; so between breaths; between trying and not; between caring and not. This is the face of Maya the earth mother, whose joy is as much in creation as it is in destruction. Who smiles and gives birth; who smiles and strangles her newborn child to death. This is the face of nothing and everything. And the fish are pretty too.


And then Grandma and I hung the Christmas lights.


Buster, angered by the existence of anything larger than a bowl-sized body of water, fought a battle with the pool, and to my surprise smelled little like a wet dog should.


Victor's Thanksgiving table setting, pre-carnage.


Carnage.


Back in Michigan the cat gets a Christmas gift; proceeds to swat at the mouse on the stick for three consecutive hours, falls asleep next to it, wakes up and renews pursuit.


Christmas day at cousin Jeremy's. Three extended branches of the family tree pile gifts beneath the pine and try to tolerate each others' existence for a few hours. They meet with an unlikely success!


Be the ball.


I order a cheap electronic drum kit. It comes broken. I tell customer support where they can stick it. They overnight me a new one.


The new one.



An early morning flower blooms one day as I'm preparing for work.


This very morning all my suspicions are at last validated. I am being stalked by some hairy-palmed, peeping-tom of a rabbit!

...Even 'Rocky' had a montage.