I'm leaving the old intro here, but adding this- it appears the doves have taken over my blog for their fiction. Just as well, I was doing a piss poor job of updating. They're doing much better.

This blog is infrequently updated, full of incorrect spellings, misused words, and general bad grammar. It started when I was trying to use google+ (which I've since given up on) and discovered there was no character limit for posts. If you've known me a long time, a lot of these stories will be old hat. If you plan to know me for a long time, you'll no doubt hear many of them in person. But, folks seemed to enjoy them, so here they are.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

one hundred on thiry sixth story

At some point, years back, I discovered the Library of Congress' online photo archive. I lost at least a full week worth of productivity to looking at old WPA era farm photos, and photos of rail yard repair techniques, and, of course, all these women, working in war factories. In the case of the latter, it is fairly clear that the women were told what day the photographers would come in- their hair is perfectly coiffed, make-up tastefully applied, cute little patent leather shoes peep out from their overalls. They all pose prettily balanced on the wing of a plane, or leaning on a console, and every one smiles at the camera. And then, in the midst of all that, there's this woman- greasy, busy, looking at her machine, and maybe a little fed up with the photographer's interruption.
And because of her, my work caps are always bright yellow.

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