One of Those Days

Blogging is full of pitfalls, even in addition to the fact you must actually write sometimes. This morning I wrote a post about the fond feelings I was having for all five living presidents as they gathered for the Bush Library dedication.  But it needs a lot of editing which, because of the following, I do not feel like doing.

 I just found out that it is not kosher to include any photos from the web on one’s blog without the express permission of the photographer even if the website where the photos live is credited—for example a tourism site. Fortunately I’ve used very few and I have always made sure it was clear they were not mine. But, feeling rather criminal, I rushed home to delete them. Which, in addition to already feeling like a cheater, made me feel like a blogging failure, a depressed blogging failure.

 So then I ate too much bread and olive oil which made me feel kind of bloated and made my throat hurt from all the salt I put in the olive oil.  

 Now, to end this perfect day I will watch four Downton Abbey episodes, mostly seen before but my addiction is so total that I cannot bear to think I might miss even one illness or one duplicitous act.

 So because…well just because… here are some old photos newly scanned that only various family members will enjoy but damn it…they are mine!  Well I think my brother took a couple so I suppose he may sue.

Snowy Minnesota.

Snowy Minnesota.

Out at the old place on a cold winter dawn.

Out at the old place on a cold winter dawn.

Summer. In the front yard with some of mom's fowl--what are they anyway?

Mom's kitchen. Something is baking I know.

Mom’s kitchen. Something is baking I know.

When the California kids came to spend part of a winter in Grand Rapids. Teresa, Steven and Great Grandma in a little place I was house-sitting fronted by a logging road where the trucks passed day after cold miserable day.

When the California kids came to spend part of a winter in Grand Rapids. Teresa, Steven and Great Grandma in a little place I was house-sitting fronted by a logging road where the trucks passed day after cold miserable day.

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About mneset

Writer, Traveler, Director/North Fourth Art Center

Posted on April 27, 2013, in Living LIFE. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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