what would have happened.

I found this photo today. I wish I could call her and tell her I'm going to be in the newspaper on Thursday. She would have loved to have a clipping to show her friends.

***

I am supposed to be in the newspaper on Thursday. October 1, in the San Francisco Chronicle. (When I say I, I mean me and the i live here:SF project.)

I say supposed to just because, well, you know how things are. I guess the Chron could still change their minds and not run the story but I should be more confident about it and say Yes, I'm going to be in the paper on Thursday. You should pick up a copy. And get an extra for a friend.

I'm still going to be excited about the whole newspaper story in a little while, but that sharp sticking poke of loss from finding Little Helen in my photo software is taking a few minutes to shake off. Keeping busy does wonders in the intentional forgetting and moving on department but it still does catch up with you.

I can picture her sitting in that blue recliner, next to her metal TV tray with a collection of PARADE magazines and clipped coupons and cough drops, with her collection of small, perfectly sharpened ends of pencils (she liked to save the tiniest bits of pencils and rubberband them in bunches), and this newly printed newspaper article about her first granddaughter, who has a photography project that got into the San Francisco newspaper. Can you believe it? Little Julie Michelle! In the newspapers!

She would call me and tell me how proud of me she was.

I know she would.

don't forget to smile

One of my own found photos.
Have absolutely no idea where I took it.

***

That patented smiley face has hardwired one of those knee-jerk ughs in me. But here I like it, and I do smile... perhaps because it's unexpected and the bike is a bit grotty.

Suddenly something trite and worn becomes a little less so.

I have steadily –at first unconsciously but now intentionally– been putting myself on the anti-trite movement: write-what-you-mean and use-your-thesaurus (or your brain) kick. I've found myself in a morass of sophomoric language (ie., drivel) that I have created all by myself. (Also, I think I am getting crotchety in my old age.)

I think I've let my pictures do most of the talking and it's turned into a bad habit. Which means that certain words will be used on extremely rare occasions (by me) on my blog anymore, unless they're the words I really mean to write and are not subbing for something else just because I'm too lazy to think about what I'm trying to describe.

These words include, but are not limited to, the following: sweet, lovely, awesome, amazing, little (that's going to be a tough one), darling, fantastic, wonderful (another doozy), really, love. Should be interesting.