Mr. Isaac’s Penny-Squishing Adventure

Meet Isaac, my 6 year-old nephew and professional mischief maker.   Prior to my arrival in Minnesota last week, he’d scaled my sister’s refrigerator and downed a half bottle of Disney princess gummy vitamins.  Luckily, they were iron free. 

My sister, Carole,  is now on a first name basis with both poison control and the Disney princess gummy vitamin people, who are sending her a free replacement bottle for her troubles.  Someone there must have a six-year-old boy.

Carole will have you know, Isaac isn’t much of the Disney princess type.  The vitamins just taste good.   In his spare time, while not sneaking large quantities of supplements, he can be found playing with spiders, hunting snakes in the yard, and beating up other little boys behind his school. 

So, my sister and I decided a little trip to the railroad tracks up the street from my mom’s house to flatten some pennies would be the perfect thing to distract him from any misadventures on the first day of my trip.  

We used to do it all the time as kids…

Of course, maybe teaching him to play around boxcars hauling 1000’s of pounds of potentially toxic material at high speeds wasn’t the best idea. 

Walking to the train tracks on your hands is much more fun!


Carole and Isaac


A view of the trains


Prepping for penny squishing


Run Away! (Isaac and his dad, Caleb)


Squishing complete! "Look what I got, Auntie Jojo!!!!"


I wanted a better angle, but will a 6 year-old boy stand still for a second shot? NO.


He writes his name in the dirt with the newly flattened penny. The adventure is complete!

Checking In

I stepped away from the dyslexic chaos I know as logarithms just before all of my grey matter unfolded this afternoon.   It’s a good thing, because I need it for my Monday night exam.  What?  I promised not to talk about Algebra anymore?  Oh, yes….my apologies.

I did treat myself to a photo walk this afternoon to unwind, which is also a good thing because I haven’t posted anything in a week.  The blogs I LOVE to read have been neglected as well, but I’m afraid I probably won’t get to them until Tuesday.  I’m so excited to have a few extra moments to check in and see all the pictures and stories I’ve missed. 

One thing I do want to share is that I watched Born into Brothels, the documentary suggested by a couple of readers last week about a project in India which helped children of Calcutta’s red light district get an education through photography.   The project was called Kids with Cameras, and through donations and partnerships, continues to operate today.   It’s a fascinating, sometimes heart-breaking story that’s worth checking out. 

That’s all for now.  I’ll check back in mid-week to finally get caught up!

Everyone Needs an Andy

Skype conversation between Andy and I tonight – practice run for if, when I go to Ireland, things go very very badly:

Me:  Hello?  Help!  I’m chained to an effin radiator in Galway!

Andy:  Don’t burn yourself.

Me:  You don’t care.

Andy:  You’re warm and have company.  What’s there to be worried about?

Me:  There’s no whiskey.

Andy:  Be right there after I finish my rum and coke.

Me:  Thanks Mr. Knickers.

For everything from photo walks, to drinks, to saving people from dungeons in Ireland, everyone needs an Andy. 

Camera:  Canon 40d
Location:  Railroad across from the Marina and then Temple Bar;  Bellingham, WA


No trespassing??  Like I ever listen. 

I did lose the lighting more quickly than I expected last night, so my train project didn’t happen.  Instead, I took the path to the marina again and tried to make the most of what remaining light reflected off the clouds. 

I happened to spot a Minnesota license plate as I walked down one of the docks.   This resulted in a conversation with two fisherman, who were enjoying a “once in a century” run with a certain type of fish that I can’t now recall.   Keith, the talkative one, bore a strong Viking resemblance:  bushy blonde hair and beard, leathery skin from too much time at sea, with that far away look in his eyes like something distant and dangerous still beckoned him.    Norwegian myself, and convinced there are some Vikings in my bloodline, I understand that feeling.  I understand that draw towards the unknown and the inability to stay rooted without soon growing restless. 

I wish the fisherman would have let me photograph them, but these tough guys turned out to be camera-shy.  You can view more photos in my “Ordinary Things” Gallery

Camera:  Canon 40d
Location:  Lonesome Dock;  Bellingham Marina