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Messages 1621 - 1640 of total 4238 in this topic << First  |  < Previous  |  Show All  |  Next >  |  Last >>
neebee

Social climber
calif/texas
Apr 14, 2013 - 11:37am PT
hey there say, mouse....

hmmm.....


bulbs, getting ready to bloom:

! ! !! !

?
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 14, 2013 - 10:14pm PT
Nope. Just exclaiming over the painting(s).

I'm truly honored. I hope you've gotten and read the emails by now.

1. Last Ranch on Cunningham Rd./Linda Abbott
2. At the Top of Their Game/Linda Abbott
3. Lizzie Ruffalo/neebee
4. Liz Bermingham/neebee
5. Liz Ruffalo with sons Michel and Scott/nameless neebee

I have "acquired" five pieces of original art in one week when all I've ever HAD is one Throwpie which has been given away to some lucky person out there years ago, but which I want, and one pointillist portrait of an Indian by R. Hamm. And the one little clay piece by Liz.

It makes it real when I think of the topo on the reverse of Tom Evans' poster which Lilabiene has. Art strikes at midnight sometimes. Sober or not.

And trading a Bierstadt for a one-of-a-kind aerial shot of the Falls, and having folks ask for my photos, or meeting artists who know people I know and want to talk about something besides just art, these are things that have made this time in my life special.

I'd like to thank Dean Fidelman for the calendar again one more time. I'm digging the hell out of April, Dean, in all ways...

And this is by way of appreciating the slightly-older-than-I crowd of ST old-schoolers who are 'just too guido believe.' I hope we all grow "better" so well as dem guys have shown us the way here, too, just they did once backing the day.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t19Li1N09Xo

Liz was my Penelope. I came back to her after twenty years.

Until tonight, I'd never thought of her in that context.

Thanks, all.
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 15, 2013 - 12:56am PT
http://www.supertopo.com/climbing/thread.php?topic_id=1154529&msg=1154529#msg1154529
You coulda donated, but did you?

that one's for my bud neebee, concernded and concerting engerny to her cause and never having cause to quit


just cause we can and
it makes us feel better about
just being "me"
--X Ample

mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 15, 2013 - 01:17am PT
Zebrowski sub-titled.
Did you see zBrown in there, man?

He's One of Them in zBrown Suits.

You gotta look real hard.

Just like him.

Like him!

Yer gonna turn this sh#t up!

All eyes on us.

All eyes on us!

The best I can do for purple and brown pupils, Iris, is to recommend you try the blues first. Someone just bought the last of the browns.


Cow a boong?

Don't have no cow. Wanna surf?

mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 15, 2013 - 08:37am PT
Good morning, good!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tqmid9MlFSw
Credit: mouse from merced
Credit: mouse from merced
Credit: mouse from merced
You're on your own.
Old school.
O.K.
In gear.
Credit: mouse from merced
Credit: mouse from merced
Ron Anderson

Trad climber
Soon to be Nipple suckling Liberal
Apr 15, 2013 - 09:08am PT
Credit: Ron Anderson


BWUUUUAAAAHAHAHAHA!
Marlow

Sport climber
OSLO
Apr 15, 2013 - 09:36am PT
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 15, 2013 - 10:28am PT
I refuse to bow to the temptation to pun on the word 'knot.'

I refuse to admit that I have never read the Cleary books about Ralph.

There can be no connection to Ralph from Happy Days and why isn't his name pronounced Rafe Mafe--is it some Euro thing or just when is the honeymoon starting, Ralph?

That was Uncle Ray from My Favorite Martian that played the sly-sounding Matt.

Naturelement, we come to Arlo Guthrie, again, sliding sidewise at X km/h and singin'
Yur not gonna die any time soon.

I do feel like havin' me a pickle, though, thinkin' on it.

Polski wyrob, py got!

Cowasocky.
Cowasocky.
Credit: Cowasocky
My brother Tim was on a Kawa when he got T-boned in Jamestown about twenty years ago. He lucked out and only had three limbs broken.

Not my style. I've ridden bicycles, not motorcycles, and Liz even rode a bike a lot when she was young and selling Avon. She hauled young Michel-Jon round in a seat on the back. It was a three-speed.

Then she met that motorcycle mechanic...

Pre-war Polish Sokol 1000.
Pre-war Polish Sokol 1000.
Credit: Sokool

Norwegian eats the heart out of oak and becomes one.
Norwegian eats the heart out of oak and becomes one.
Credit: Knott

http://www.buzzhunt.co.uk/2011/05/06/polish-guy-makes-100-wooden-bicycles/
zBrown

Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
Apr 15, 2013 - 10:38am PT
Climbing content @ 2:02

don't put on any heirs

sure hope they don't fall, would be nobody left to follow them down

http://vimeo.com/29988524

mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 15, 2013 - 11:39am PT
Just got home from Illinois, lock the front door, oh boy!
Got to sit down, take a rest on the porch.
Imagination sets in, pretty soon I'm singing,

CHORUS:
Doo, doo, doo, Looking out my back door.
There's a giant doing cartwheels,
A statue wearing high heels.
Look at all the happy creatures dancing on the lawn.
A dinosaur Victrola listening to Buck Owens.

CHORUS

Tambourines and elephants are playing in the band.
Won't you take a ride on the flying spoon?
Doo, doo doo.
Wond'rous apparition provided by magician.

CHORUS

Tambourines and elephants are playing in the band.
Won't you take a ride on the flying spoon?
Doo, doo doo.
Bother me tomorrow, today, I'll buy no sorrows.

CHORUS

Forward troubles Illinois, lock the front door, oh boy!
Look at all the happy creatures dancing on the lawn.
Bother me tomorrow, today, I'll buy no sorrows.

CHORUS

Here's the story I suppose I might have told you, neebee, had I gone on.

The mechanic, Rick, took his son, Scott, from his mother and her first son and headed Back East, eventually to Cincinnati, where there were no tacos in '83, according to Liz's tale.

Canterbury, you got nothin' on this one.

She-mom extraordinaire set off in chase and went 'round and 'round in Ohio and got her Scotty back to Merced, and so the soaps continued until we met in the ER and as the poet Eurante once said
terra met foima
The Money-Bin Tales.
The Money-Bin Tales.
Credit: Disney Comics & Stories
Rock climbing is perfectly safe--it's the dismount that's hazardous!

Credit: mouse from merced
Liz and her Oh Boys! Someplace along Feather River.

She collected postcards and elephants. Long poems were no match for her memory. The Night Before Christmas was child's play. A Midsummer Night's Dream was her only live Shakespeare experience, here in Merced, at the first performance given at the new outdoor theater in Applegate Park, a modern adaptation.

We were in the Guild of St. Thomas More and our "period" was truly the earlier faires, the Henrician faires as we called them, but we adapted to the Elizabethan mode easily enough and had great fun at both. Liz recited some "poesy" at one faire as a part of our act. I challenged her to memorize some Shakespearean sonnets, but she informed me in her best "period-Nazi" impression ever: "It's not the right period, good sir. Period."

I saw no tear in her dress, neebee. Maybe that was a tear in your eye.

You meant in this dress, eh?
Liz Bermingham, 1997.  Egg tempura/oil by neebee, 2013.  And not a ver...
Liz Bermingham, 1997. Egg tempura/oil by neebee, 2013. And not a very clear photo by me.
Credit: mouse from merced

Here's that other of the grand-Lizzie.
Lizzie Ruffalo, 2013.  Painted by neebee, 2013.  Egg tempura/oil, on b...
Lizzie Ruffalo, 2013. Painted by neebee, 2013. Egg tempura/oil, on board.
Credit: mouse from merced


mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 15, 2013 - 12:23pm PT
I fronded this guy on Datebook!  You never know, huh?
I fronded this guy on Datebook! You never know, huh?
Credit: mouse from merced

He's not my frond.  I thought he was one of yours the way he's acting.
He's not my frond. I thought he was one of yours the way he's acting.
Credit: mouse from merced
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 15, 2013 - 12:58pm PT
In hearing of the Boston Marathon Massacre just now, it seems to bring to mind the thrilling days of 9-11 when flags were flown on Fords, flower carts, and taco wagons.
Time for to show the flag again.
Time for to show the flag again.
Credit: GI
But even so,
Credit: Mission Taco
Marlow

Sport climber
OSLO
Apr 15, 2013 - 01:24pm PT
zBrown

Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
Apr 15, 2013 - 03:07pm PT
OUCH!

Take a lesson from the lovely lemon tree, but it's still only gonna give you lemons in the end, unless of course you are a meadowlark, in which case life is golden




zBrown

Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
Apr 15, 2013 - 08:28pm PT



Bruce Penninsula Park

http:// link hosed up - will fix
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 16, 2013 - 02:16pm PT
A Short

The Barisov Parcel

It was a standard USPS ready-to-post mailing carton, but what it held was far from ordinary.

It was a Mulligan. Also known as a Ginsberg. Sometimes called a McGuffin, in error, but well-intentioned error, one hopes. There are worse errors than calling a Ginsberg a McGuffin, like calling a Hitler a Ginsberg, I suppose.

Blue suede, usually, but this was Blue Velvet, it had a plush feel to it. I thought it might BE a real Vintage Vinton, but there was something missing.

A blue velvet McGuffin, being mailed to Boston, the day after an afternoon of terrifying bombs going off in crowds of spectators at the finish of the marathon. Hmm...

At first, it’s not too obvious what’s happening, but it gradually begins to occur to me, that I know what is inside this parcel which I am holding, yet it is still wrapped inside, the package is intact.

Whoa!

Whoa! And wait just a freakin’ minute, Jack! I cannot know this is a McGuffin, much less know it’s blue velvet. I’ts not possible, just like that contraction of “it is.”

Aha! But there ‘tis, so it’s not “IMPOSSIBLE,” is it?

How do I know it is “plush” and how do I know it is “blue?”

That is rich, but sad, too, that I feel this way.

And how do I know it is a Mulligan/Ginsberg/McGuffin when they are, after all, just do-overs and mysterious objects themselves? Ephemera, photo-proof; no nest in te, visibilite.

It is a question that I am willing to turn over in my mind to Nowhere Man, champion of nothing, obliged to nobody, and best of all, he works for free.

I have a contract with him. He does not accept contractions as valid. I use ‘em all the time, but cannot use them now that Nowhere Man is on the case. He is nowhere and everywhere at once, but he cannot contract, only expand. So he is unlimited in what he can and cannot do at the same time.

Do not ask.

I will not tell.

Story

Credit: mouse from merced
Gypsy

Social climber
NC
Apr 16, 2013 - 05:15pm PT
Credit: Gypsy

Early morning on the beach at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk
zBrown

Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
Apr 16, 2013 - 05:21pm PT
Truckin'


mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 16, 2013 - 05:27pm PT
This is not about the Cobra climb on Royal Arches. Or malt liquor.

As Largo goes back to Led Zep, Mouse backs up time to the year 1971. I'm nailing one of the pitches on Carbon Wall. Bruce Price is my belayer and the instrumental in my head driving me is Quicksilver Messenger Service's "The Cobra." It features the lead by the late John Cipollina. I used to own the album "Just for Love" and "Happy Trails" on eight-track. Half of the band were Mercedians. Andy Cox and Ron Cagle and similar types would beg to ride around the Valley in the White Van, the DORF, so they could burn one to some good sounds. I obliged whenever I could, cruising slow. We had Zappa's "Chunga's Revenge" and "The Blues Project," an anthology with Jeff and Maria Muldaur for back-up. Later, the last Stones album I ever bought and I feel their greatest, "Exiles on Main Street," accompanied me on trips to the Valley after I moved out in 72.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


Another band which de Flames listened to back in the day in Merced: The Seeds. Check them out on Youtube and catch Betty Paige dancing to their song "I Can't Seem to Make You Mine." Largo, listen to "Pushin' Too Hard" by the Seeds. I am reminded of thee, somehow. I remember the first time I heard Led Zepp being played by the weekend workers from Fresburg in the tent cabin out by Leidig Meadow I shared with Richard Carlson, a bus person at the Caf and also a Merced guy. And who tried to ruin the night by drunken furor in the dorms parking lot but the Millis himself, prior to his conversion to gentler substances.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


For the sake of the young who never heard of de Flames, we were "just a bunch of rock and roll kids from Merced," none of whom owned cars, with the exception of what seemed like only one guy at a time. It was a farcical schtick invented by bored teens. It was essentially a car club, but for guys w/o wheels. Our members were augmented by the low-riders, Benny Bengosgos, and others of Latino origin, all fake. San Joaquin, patron saint of hitch-hikers was revered. There was a chapter in Campo Quatro: Millis, the Bircheffs, Randy Hamm, and Steve Walstead (our guy Throwpie), Cowboy Larry, all were definitely enrolled, and I think Bonebrake, as well. A lotta maids were Flames mammas at one time or another.


------------------------------------------------------------------------


As long as I'm here, there is a story I'd like to relate. In late October, 1971, nine of us from the Valley drove to Tuolumne for a hike in to Boothe Lake. I distinctly remember nine. We were in Rich's (last name?) station wagon, the Blue Polluter. Rich, me, the Bircheffs, Anne Baker, Julie Mathis, and another maid, maybe Karen Anders, Pettigrew and maybe Cagle, we all came back from Boothe in about 4-6 inches of new snow. Winter all of a sudden. We were the last campers that year.

We headed down the road and not far above Smokey Jack or Tamarack the Buick slid left and the left front wheel was over a bank, but there was no way it was going over. Rich had been driving real slowly and managed to keep us intact. It was slushy and I was the only one who refused to start walking. Someone had to watch the packs, so I sat there while they got wet. I dozed.

The snowplow was on me like a train, very loud. It was followed by a NPS ranger in a station wagon. The plow avoided the Buick, thank you Jesus. The ranger didn't hit the plow, but it was close. The f##k got clustered immediately when the ranger's vehicle wouldn't start (battery). The plow went down the hill, picked up some of the walkers who then called the tow truck. The tow truck got there, the driver turned off his motor. His battery died, too. The ranger started his car with a jump from the Buick. The tow truck driver started his unit off the ranger, then hauled the Polluter off. No harm, no foul, just a constant reminder to me to always high-tail it out of the high country by late October.

Someone's got to remember this tale of near-woe. Stories like these make it worthwhile being an OLD FART.


And the beat goes on. The above's from an old thread about the Cobra. I know now that they belong over to El Cap Bridge now, and can't think of much besides neckties and Shelby right now. Yesterday's gone, but this is some of the stuff I saw at Skip's place.
Skip Johnson admiring some of his hippie treasures.
Skip Johnson admiring some of his hippie treasures.
Credit: mouse from merced
Skip Johnson of Merced.
Hangin' around.

Showin' off.

Yeah, the dust.  Blows.  Forwards.  blows.  Back.
Yeah, the dust. Blows. Forwards. blows. Back.
Credit: mouse from merced

Jackin' my memories.

The Trickster Dickster.
The Trickster Dickster.
Credit: mouse from merced

And Throwpie's.

In Merced!?!  Homegrown bands and outatowners both!
In Merced!?! Homegrown bands and outatowners both!
Credit: mouse from merced

Ducks on the pond.

Quick...quack!  Here he comes...  He'll think he's in a Far Side carto...
Quick...quack! Here he comes... He'll think he's in a Far Side cartoon!
Credit: mouse from merced
Credit: mouse from merced


mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Apr 16, 2013 - 06:11pm PT
Another old Indian in the Yosemite Museum.  The Indian Scout, Model 10...
Another old Indian in the Yosemite Museum. The Indian Scout, Model 101, but missing the logo on the tank, dude.
Credit: mouse from merced
On G Street in fromt of Rollen Donuts--sweet! Tweetie taw a puddy tat!
On G Street in fromt of Rollen Donuts--sweet! Tweetie taw a puddy tat!
Credit: mouse from merced
Skeep's helmet.
Skeep's helmet.
Credit: mouse from merced
Skeep's bike of the day.  Or so it would seem.
Skeep's bike of the day. Or so it would seem.
Credit: mouse from merced
Skeep's driving!  Ai-ee!
Skeep's driving! Ai-ee!
Credit: mouse from merced
Skeep's place.
Skeep's place.
Credit: mouse from merced
Skeep's hubcaps.  1950.
Skeep's hubcaps. 1950.
Credit: mouse from merced
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