the hundred and ninety eighth story

Once upon a time there was a little plane who DID like his cropdusting gig, he really did, but... he dreamed of learning skywriting.

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.