My impression in the past century is that our cultural accouterments have taken a design shift for the worst. Furnishings and clothing used to reflect how a human being moved, worked, and lived, they were part of how we expressed ourselves. Now these mass-produced items of house and self seem devoid of heart and soul. They are made of hard, harsh lines with uncomfortable cut and material, designed by those who did not, could not care. Farm implements and sewing machines used to be of fine wood and have beautiful metal scrollwork, now only collectable weapons seem to be so embellished. Cosmetic bottles for both men and women used to be elegant with filigreed caps, now only bottles of alc

I very much miss walking about with the breeze on my face, arms, and legs—it was such a visceral pleasure. I am glad that I realized the joy of a breeze for the years I had it. Recently I was wheeled about in a medical complex, from one pointless, expensive test to another, and the attendant's fast push on my wheelchair put a breeze on me that brought back delicious memories. Caption: Annmarie Throckmorton In The Breeze 2012.

I cannot clear off the small and trivial details of life to which I must attend, they come through my computer and onto my desk too fast. Most days I manage to clear half a dozen or so invoices, notes, letters, records, corrections, queries, complaints, and what-have-you, yet more come in anew than I have cleared. And the new niggles coming in have a propensity to transmute into even greater complexities that make them the devil to resolve. This makes it very difficult for old me to find the time and energy sort out my major tasks in life. How are others managing to cope with these overwhelming minutiae? Caption: Coping With Minutiae by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019

I had my little dog named Big close by my side from 1989 to 2001, I still miss her from time to time. I took Big with me almost everywhere I traveled, she was a most excellent companion. Once she rode with me on a red, five-car tram through the Mammoth Cave complex in central Kentucky. I had no place to keep her as the day was too hot to leave her in my vehicle. Dogs were prohibited in the cave for all the obvious reasons, including they could get lost or otherwise misbehave. But Big was so clearly a very good little dog, and I plead so earnestly for us to take the ride through the cave, that the conductor took a vote and the fifty or so other good-natured passengers voted unanimously to

Every single speck of life dies, and most of us deeply regret our passing in pain, fear, and confusion. So why is there still no cure for Old? One would think that a cure for Old would be the top priority in medical research, but no, we all carry on under the delusion of immortality, until sooner or later we die. Each of our bright lights is extinguished, or perhaps reabsorbed back into the womb of the universe. Caption: Reabsorbed Back Into The Womb Of The Universe by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019 (Why is a cure for old not the top priority in medical research?)

AdroitWaterBear's online post to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cCtfni5XCs Wikileaks' contribution to humanity has been to make truths about reality available to every human with access to the internet, as a given right to know Before Julian Assange created Wikileaks people naively wanted to know the truth, now we know that we have an intrinsic right to know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth Access to the full truth will allow humanity to build a better world. Taking Julian Assange's metaphor, Wikileaks is like an ice-breaking ship in the cold-hearted dark waters of geopolitics, busting through deceptions so that Humanity has a clearer path to a better Destiny. Caption:

Remembering a poem that I wrote in 2009, of a colder winter than this year, I illustrated the poem with my impression of an icing of snowy words lighting my view of a purple night. Each of my seventy years of life have been marked by others' fearful whispers, "The climate is changing, the climate is changing, somebody save us, the climate is changing." It seems to me that climate is simply variable. It seems more likely to me that the next killer asteroid is sooner likely to wipe us out than climate change. __________________________ My garden in dark night winter sleeps, Twinkling city lights over all, The snow is deep. Caption: My Garden In Dark Night Winter Sleeps by Annmarie Throckmor

Pain in my shoulders is impairing my ability to dress. Every time I reach around myself or lift my arms, I have piercing pain following by a deep sustained ache. For the umpteenth time I have sought medical help. They are quite good at imaging, but can they ever HELP me? Aside from the problem of pain, it is certainly interesting to see the structure of bone, ligament, tissue, etcetera that comprises my body. As most who had ever seen an x-ray have said, it is "miraculous". My body in flimsy black and white seems so meticulous formed, so improbable, yet so obviously manifest. My question is: Why such a fragile design? Caption: Ann Throckmorton shoulder x-rays on 12-20-18 (sic) Note:

I received a solicitation via email from Bernie Sanders today. Why is this candidate so offputting to me? I will tell you why. Mr. Sanders begins his soliciation for campaign money with "Sisters and Brothers - " and concludes "In solidarity". That is not the standard American salutation, nor is it the standard American complementary close, which have been established by the best custom in business practice to be "Dear So-and-so" and "Sincerely", respectively. Candidate Bernie Sanders' dishelveled, hunched, elderly appearance gives multiple clues that he is not as mentally fit as a younger, different man. He is physically and mentally too old to hold the pressure-cooker, power-smashing j

My perception of my late mother's interpersonal skills is that she would often sneak up on people, metaphorically kick them in the shin, then run away crying that they did not like her. I was always flummoxed as to how to comfort her in this, especially as the one with a sore shin was often me and additionally, if one tried to comfort her she would lash out unkindly to bite the hand that fed her pity. Caption: Tissue Of Tears by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019

While traveling in southern California, from Los Angles to San Diego, a friend and I stopped to have lunch at what to appeared to be a park on the beach next to the San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station (SONGS). Utilities like this one used to be called nuclear power plants before the new "soft" language which demands the prettification of what is cold, hard, dangerous, or simply utilitarian in the interest of politics. That nuclear power plant is now closed, except as to any superfund* clean-up that might remain to be done. Located between the ocean and Interstate Highway 5, the nuclear power plant site was monitored. There were camera everywhere, and a SCUBA diver soon popped up off-sho

This is what I, as my avatar AdroitWaterBear, post online when others complain that me and my kind have "ruined" the world. It is the style now to blame Americans descended from Europeans for all that ails us. What tosh. Europeans and their descendants have given Europe, America, and much of the world: safe roofs over our heads indoor plumping potable water on tap extended lifespans due to lifelong medical care HVAC (heating, ventilation and air conditioning) systems—which are also lifesavers for the young and elderly worldwide commercial infrastructure with employment for many local policing for public security international security by the military transportation systems that people used

The Anunnaki* were believed to have been extraterrestrial gods who came to Earth long ago for reasons that have become confounded in time. Some believe the Anunnaki gave humanity knowledge, others suspect they interfered with or perhaps improved upon humanity's DNA thus creating modern man. No one knows but representations of Anunnakis' have been discovered in the ruins of ancient Mesopotamia, and in numerous other sites throughout the world, and they are always depicted rather stiffly carrying handbags, the function of which has not yet been explained. Here are some ideas of how this piece of equipment might have been used. Or perhaps the handbag functioned as a multipurpose tool, mater

I ask you, how does one recover when knocked askew? Some days I do a few things, some days I do more, other days I do nothing. Caption: I Askew by Annmarie Throckmorton 2019

When I was a very young woman I received a dozen dozen roses, one hundred and forty-four long-stemmed red roses nestled in floral greens, in a standard-sized bushel basket with a fancy bow, costing $300 or more (in today's money). The card read only, "From A Secret Admirer." When the floral delivery service brought in the bushel basket full of roses I was dumbfounded. I did not enjoy the mysterious extravagance, the strong emotion that it implied was unsettling. My very first boyfriend and I had broken up months ago, I had had some bad experiences dating other men, and I was not currently dating. I was, as they would have said in the 18th century, not entertaining visitors. I was in re

My friend Marie Charvat would be 72 now, we met long ago at an introductory swordplay class at the university. She was an attorney for the State of Ohio and I liked her instantly, her intelligence, her warm eyes, her ready laugh, and her amazing athletic abilities. I was not enjoying the swordplay class, and during a lull Marie showed me how she could "dance" a sword from her head to her belly and then along her outstretched arm to grasp it with a flourish. Wow! In the subsequent years that we were friends, we went to a couple of public belly dance presentations, and once the troupe invited her to dance with them. She went onto the dance floor for a few graceful steps to say hello, but

It seems very old-fashioned now, but my father and I used to exchange greeting cards for all of the holidays, and on our birthdays. I kept a few of the greeting cards from my parents because they were so pretty, and then when my parents passed, I inherited back a few of my own greeting cards that I had mailed to them. Father really enjoyed mailing letters and cards, and he corresponded with many people during his life, some of them overseas, as did I. Mother's participation was to co-sign the cards that Father sent out to family. Father's extra duty was to keep Mother from tearing or scratching the cards (note under my chin on the photograph.) I also inherited Father's assorted postage

Just before I graduated with my master's degree from Ohio State University in 1985, I attended a dull and disappointing sociological conference in San Antonio, Texas. I could not afford to go to many conferences but a girlfriend who was also working on her master's degree shared the car and hotel costs with me. I had hoped to learn and develop professional contacts, what I encountered were lackluster presentations of the same-old-same-old topics and married colleagues who hoped for hugs and more while momentarily slipped from their wives' leashes into the crowded conference area. Ugh. There were few other women at the conference. One large, sweaty moron disguised as a graduate teaching

My letter to Kaeb Services, Shirley, IL 61772. I received your statement today for service on 01-13-19 in the amount of $60. I keep a computer log of services on a daily basis so I am certain of the following transactions. The billed amount for January 2019 should be $40 because our agreed upon rate is $40 per snowplowing. We have an understanding that I will call for service when I need my driveway snowplowed. I only requested one snowplowing in January 2019, and that was when I called you on 01-12-19, and Kaeb Services snowplowed on 02-13-19. I have enclosed a check in the amount of $40 in payment for that one snow removal on 01-13-19. When Kaeb Services snowplowed my driveway on 01-1

I tried to think a pleasant thought to orient myself into a good mental state for the long drive to and from Chicago today for my late father's loss of leg due to nursing home neglect lawsuit. I fell two days ago, carrying my laundry from the dryer to the closet and my foot just failed to get the message from my brain, and down I went, head over heels, not literally but it felt that way. I am still quite achy and worried about small fractures considering how hard I fell. My great-grandmother passed that way, she fell in her kitchen, broke her hip, and died in pain a few months later. So that is not the pleasant thought that I was seeking. I called Humana yet again to find out why my two