I’m really no good when it comes to woodworking. I still have bad dreams about making a lamp in Jr. High wood shop (Not really, but I’ve been known to exaggerate a little). I have always marvelled at the craftsmanship of the early pioneers. With tools ever so basic they created works that are in many ways far more superior to what we do today. I wonder why we have gotten to the point that everything has to be done with power tools and why we price craftsmanship beyond the pocketbooks of all but the most wealthy.

I’m working on my fitness. Getting a little more exercise… ugh.
Actually, I enjoy walking and am simply to preoccupied most of the time to actually get out of the house/office/studio to WALK. This morning I rode with Peggy on her way to work and walked back home from Oklahoma and South Superior Street. It was a nice walk, about 5 miles I guess (if Google maps is right).
What I really enjoyed was the fog over the lake. There was enough fog that the new breakwater extension was largely obcsured. Not spooky, but nice.
I’m looking forward to the weekend. I’m sure Peg will want to mow the lawn, but lately every minute I have with her is wonderful and precious. I can’t wait for her retirement date.
I was too lazy to drag a camera along with me, so here’s one from a few months ago.
If you aren’t sure what you’re looking at, it’s a sand dune, looking a lot like a mountain.
I like all sorts of ladies. For models, that is. Some big, some small, some chunky, others quite trim.
I don’t get many volunteers as trim as this gal. She’s a runner and you can tell the minute she drops her clothes. But I have to say that as beautiful as she may be naked — it’s her eyes that always draw me in.
Part of my series on the human form as dune. We wander along the beach and fail to see the similarities between disparate things that share the same form.
But while working on this one for some reason I remembered the roadside signs found along the highway preceding steep hills.
Trucks Use Lower Gear
Guinness has used a Harp as it’s logo for quite some time. But the illusion, the mental image of the harp conjures up all sorts of things in the mind of a guy who has downed a couple brews no matter who made it.






