I have a number of photos from our trip that I still want to share. I may not get to all of them today, but I hope you'll indulge the paucity of words here on De File until I'm able to write something worth writing. One thing I do have the energy to convey is that our trip to San Diego -- we mean San Diego County, really, when we use that place name -- was wonderfully enhanced by the time we spent together with gpratt, tpratt, and their darling progeny Mark, whom Skylar loves to boss around in that loving, big-sister way.Come to think of it, that's exactly the way she comports herself with me, so maybe it's more than a function of age difference. Anyway, I wanted to share his cuteness, not least because prattflatt, cpratt, and danlmarmot will surely delight in the prospect.
This one has more of a 50s-feel to my mind, though the house obviously dates from before then. I think I'll call the subgenre horror noir:Makes me wonder where they filmed the original Halloween. Don't these stairs remind you of Haddonfield, Illinois? Mike Oldfield just started playing in my head on cue. . .
It's a shame when inspiration strikes in the middle of a twenty-comment thread that has long since lost its thread.
I'm always looking for new ways to make LJs that aren't like all the other LJs. The dueling memoirs that thewhitaker and classybastard are constructing in relation to their experiences of Savannah -- as well as the trip there and, presumably, back -- are wonderful reading, singly and doubly, because they are so finely grained with the irregular curves of the quotidian. Charlie Bob urges you to have a look.