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January 9th, 2012

1st of 52 Weeks

Originally published at Big Ugly Man Doll. You can comment here or there.

This is not a photoblog, and I don’t want it to become one.  But, since SOBUMD last year took 365 pictures, one per day, and it seemed interesting, I’m trying it this year.  On the other hand, I figure if I post the damn things every day, you’re going to get pretty tired of seeing them – so, I’m aggregating them week by week, Sunday evenings.  We’ll have 366 days this year, but I figure the weeks are pretty safe:  I can run Sunday through Saturday and not miss a thing.  Right?

I tend to aim for larger pictures, so I apologize if they’re huge.  I’ll try to use cut tags for my LiveJournal friends, and use thumbnails on the main site.  Mind you, I say “try” – I’m not as technical as I let on.

Ready for Week One?  Let me know what you think?

Day 1 - Fire
Day 1 – Fire

Day 2 - Berries and Barns
Day 2 – Berries and Barns

Day 3 - Messy Bed
Day 3 – Messy Bed

Day 4 - Gold
Day 4 – Gold

Day 5 - Tree
Day 5 – Tree

Day 6 - Pink Morning
Day 6 – Pink Morning

Day 7 - Invisible Car
Day 7 – Invisible Car


Yep, looks like another post from the Big, Ugly Man Doll!

She’s a Sport

Originally published at Big Ugly Man Doll. You can comment here or there.

The Reigning Queen of Pink, High Duchess of Fluff, and Protector of Barbies was sitting in her room this evening, in her pink chair, next to her pink lamp and under the pink curtains, writing in her journal, when I knocked and was admitted into the royal pink chambers.  I noted aloud that it was pushing a quarter to ten, and that despite the evening’s pretty snow, there was pretty much no chance that school would be delayed or called off – time for bed.

“OK.”  She really is a good sport about going to bed when told, I don’t know why.  She hopped down, closed the journal, and walked to her desk, where she put the journal away carefully in the second slot of the journal/magazine/paper holder thingy.  She then took the pencil, a large feathered (yes, pink) thing, and walked 2 feet down to the pencil/pen holder purse thingy, unzipped it, placed the pencil inside, and zipped it back up. 

She then turned to me, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “I think I got the organizational genes.” She took a step toward the bed, thought for a moment, and said, “Except neither of you really have the organizational genes.  I don’t know where I got them.

Oh, snap.  That would be grounds for grounding if (A) I weren’t laughing, and (B) she weren’t dead right.  She’s an organizational sport, that’s all there is to it.  We agreed that she had a very useful random mutation, and I put the little pink mutant to bed.

Yep, looks like another post from the Big, Ugly Man Doll!