Upside Ann

 Monument Rocks, July 2025  My shoes were new.  Didn't really look that way after.

  Another summer at the pool.  Once again, I'm on my own.  No Zupe.  No Landon.  Come jump off the board with me.  Please.

 Think I caught my best side... The Bean, Chicago, June 2026

Not a new bite.  This is several days old- practically healed. I was bitten, ironically, trying to look into the mouth of a cat who won't eat.   I probably should have anticipated this....  I am pleased to say that we had recently cleaned his teeth and did not require antibiotics after this injury.  

  Quite honestly, you are not wanting to see me swimming.  This, however, is me sitting on the edge of the pool waiting to get the courage up to submerge more than my feet.  In the original photo (obviously, the lower photo), you can make out the image of my foot/feet under the water.  I took this photo with my phone on "live" then chose the image that captured some of the splash. I used to like to play with photoshop and picnik - but I don't have access to the first anymore and the latter was discontinued a long, long time ago.  So, I looked for a new free program and found iPiccy.  I'm not sure what I think about the image I created.  It feels more dynamic than the original - but it might be more abstract than I prefer.  I don't really care if I lost my feet - well, I mean in the photo - I'd hate to lose my feet IRL - but I don't want to lose the idea of moving water. Thoughts?

 Last year in Colorado - back when my shoes were new - but still quite dusty from all the dry areas we'd walked.  Not as dry as my friend's footstep here... It is probably a velociraptor.  My only hope of outrunning him was giving him was to give him a 70 million year head start!

I recently found my class ring. I realize now from the vantage of time that I shouldn't have had it to find.  Class rings are for giving.  I should have given my ring to the man I loved.  He should be finding it in his box of ephemera - remembering a moment from his youth - and then struggling with discarding it - or not.  The expectation was students would order a ring with their birthstone in the center -- maybe a school color -- but I loved the star-like pattern in the blue.  Blue - my favorite color - at least until the Zupe-man introduced me to Green.  He and I diverge in what makes a heart-stopping green.  He's more of a forest green man and me, you know, prefer mine on the wild side of chartreuse. And what about those veins??!  While you might point to my aging, here you would be incorrect.  OK. Yes, I'm aging - but those veins have been a hallmark of my hands throughout time. (If you're lucky, I'll look for the video of my hand under ...

  Considering my next career as a terra-cotta warrior.  I think I smile too much.  Need to work on that.  Fortunately, my teachers are very patient.

  In decluttering closets, I found I have not one, but two polaroid 600 cameras.  I also have one box of film.  I don't need two Polaroids.  (Do I even need one? but I do have that box of film and it must be less than 30 years old.  It would still be good, right?  Would young people today even understand, let alone experience, the wonder of film that develops in your hand??  And, if they would, would Zupe?) Back to the portrait.   It felt like there might be a cartridge of film already inside the green camera.  I opened the camera up.  Nothing happened.  I pushed the shutter control.  Moment.  FLASH.  BUZZ.   WHIRRRR.  I blink back the stars in my eyes as the flash had gone off in my face.  I had just succeeded in, I almost wrote "once again" but I'm sure I have never done it before, taking a polaroid selfie.  Woohoo.  I held the film and I held my breath. If I had been sincere...

 Finally.  Hair cut.

 I believe the saying goes, "You are what you eat."  I am cool, raw, and mostly orange.  (Except for the hot green part.) Which reminds me of a story. Once upon a time, I was a professional woman flying across the country to attend a veterinary conference.  I was seated in the back row of the plane and across the aisle sat a young girl traveling alone.  I must make a good impression, I thought.  Give her a role model that she might want to emulate as she chooses a life-course.  The plane took off.  I grabbed the clam-shell of sushi I had bought before boarding and began to eat my lunch.  The wasabi began to irritate my throat.  My soft palate burned and try as I might, I could not stop the cough...which splattered rice ALL OVER the seatback in front of me.  I drank water.  Laid off the wasabi AND ginger, just in case, and hoped she hadn't noticed.   After eating, and only coughing a couple more times, I busied myself ...

  This morning I woke to find (yet again) my hair cursed by its "too long-ness".  Bed-head.  Great.  I wanted to bike to work but do I want to do that with a wet head?   Zupe asked why I was looking in the mirror and sighing.  I told him I thought my hair looked silly.  "What do you think, Zupe?  Is my hair silly?  Nope.  In Zupe, he told me I look fine because he sees me "in his heart".   I'm now wondering if I can start each exam appointment this morning with a suggestion that we each look at the other with our hearts.   This has the potential to become the fourth pillar of my philosophy.  

Weeks ago - weeks! - I congratulated myself on only getting punctured on one side of my thumb from the bite of a small, unhappy dog who was maybe tired of folks complaining about the amount of periodontal disease in his mouth. The other side was shielded by my nail.  Woohoo! Since that time, the puncture healed as did the slice I made into the meat of that thumb whilst cutting a lime in half (to make that Cuban pork, mind you).  The nail side bruise just keeps getting bigger and uglier.  I don't understand why the "dead" blood in that tissue doesn't get cleaned up.  I could research that - but I could also be washing laundry or scanning photos or fixing lunch or sweeping the deck or reading my book (I have 5 waiting in the wings) or....

  I look a lot hipper here than I actually am.  That torn knee?  The pants are just worn out.  After I became a mother, I had trouble keeping the knees in my jeans.  They make boy pants with padded, extra-strong knees, but not mom-jeans.  I try to pass this off as stylish- though anyone who watches as I invariably stick my toes through this hole when trying to don my pants knows better.  

  no tiny boobies.... just a long leg- circa 1985.

  Years ago I thought of myself as a piece of paper.  I didn't recognize I had any third dimension.  I had a front and a back but no concept of being visible from the side.  Much like a shirt on a hanger. This particular shirt is soft and old and full of amazing memories.  I remember when I bought this shirt.  Shopping with my mother at Elder Beerman's in Piqua.  I needed new clothes for my upcoming post-graduation trip to New York City.  1979.  I was about to change my life.  In this shirt.   We probably got a sandwich at Arby's after. The hanger.  You noticed that? One of the weird and wonderful things in Fayetteville, North Carolina.  I would go to the Glam-Orama every couple of weeks to wash my clothes...that is until Dave and Mary bought a new washer and gave me theirs. But even then, if the weather was wet, I'd stop in to do my laundry as I never did have a drier. That shirt.  I still wear it.  I shoul...

 I really wanted to be a Minecraft Villager for Halloween last year.  This is as close as I got.  Can you pick me out from the line up?