The Touring “Blues”

I have a disorder. It’s best if I just get this out in the open.
I group things together in colors. For example, the produce section is my personal heaven.
All the oranges in one bin, the green lettuce in another, the yellow lemons perfectly collected together.
And all is right in the world.

There’s no name for my disorder except ‘weirdness’. When I begin to edit my photos, I see them in groups of colors. And today all that I saw was blue.

Moody blue. The blue awnings on this building and the subtle blueish tint to the awakening sky set a quiet tone to the photo.

A creepy flier for ‘Wiley and the Checkmates’ performing at the local library originally captured my interest. But the hint of blue from an adjacent flier, tacked on the mustard colored wall sealed the deal today.

Need I say more?

Two colors of blue paint, blue books in the window, a blue flier on the door, blue chalk displaying their sales…Blue overload for this girl.

And yet somehow, I survive. In my blue shirt. With my blue eyes.

My Fairly Normal Parents and the Christmas Tree

I have fairly normal parents.
If they were more normal, then I might have had a better chance at not being so weird.
Alas, those are the cards that I have been dealt.
And so, I am weird.

I’m pretty happy with those cards-I like my fairly normal parents.
On a recent tour, Biceps and I were in my parent’s hometown.

Once again, they exhibited signs of weirdness; confirming my suspicions as to why I am so weird.

From across the park, Biceps and I watched as my fairly normal parents investigated the structure of the downtown Christmas tree.

My fairly normal mother realized she was being watched, inviting us over to join them.

Of course, we obliged.
Let’s be honest-Biceps and I were just as curious as my ‘fairly normal parents’ about the tree. We just like to watch from afar and tease a bit first. It’s what we do.
We love you, Mom and Dad. Even if you are weird.

Ole Miss and ‘Ol Mr. Ornery

Being pent up on a tour bus for hours on end can make one crazy. Arriving in a new city just as the sun is coming up, and the world is still asleep, (and of course, there is fresh coffee at hand…)
…that time of solitude makes the long drives worth it.

Ole Miss (Oxford, Ms), is a cutesy little city straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

As soon as we arrived, we grabbed a cup of coffee…

…and had our run of the town-as its inhabitants slept.

When you throw a little caffeine in Biceps after driving all night, he starts to get extra wily.
Especially in front of his most preferred audience of one-me.

He started by jumping into the frame over and over. That’s his blurry, cute face in the frame far left.

And then he started doing this with his coffee cup-over and over and over and over and over….

Boy, did he think he was hilarious.

Knowing he would continue to do this with each shot, I decided to dig into this man’s psyche.
After a thorough analysis, I was able to comprehend the motivation for the orneriness.

Like a little kid, he just wanted his picture taken.
My cute, ornery man can be so easily appeased sometimes.

The Strange Happenings of Little Rock, Ar.

Fifteen minutes of trekking around the nearly vacant downtown of Little Rock in search of coffee, Biceps and I witnessed several peculiar occurrences.
We had no idea that this southern town would offer a plethora of bizarre events-to be shared with the generations to come.

This, my dear readers, is a bird sticking its fluffy little body out of a small opening in the surface of a storefront. He and many of his friends, live in these holes.
Why are the holes there? One can only speculate.

That “stuff” below the bird is, yes, bird dookie. Apparently, it’s better to live up top than down below.

I think he’s pretty proud of himself and his positioning in life. There’s nothing more irritating than a proud bird.
Moving on…there is much more freakishness to see.

Is this possible by human efforts or has some mythological creature paid the trunk of this car a visit?
Could it have been subject to an anvil dropped by a road runner?
One can only speculate once more.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one:
A box truck drives into a lot. There’s this lonely sign in the lot that says to the box truck, ‘Hey, park really, really close to me. I’m lonely.’

But when the box tried to leave the parking lot, the lonely sign couldn’t bear the thought of being by himself again and he grabbed onto the box truck for dear life.

So, the moral of the story is, never listen to talking signs.
And always take your camera with you when you go to Little Rock.