I’m not exaggerating when I say the bees have been swarming our holly bushes by the hundreds, maybe thousands. As soon as we open the front door, we can hear their deafening buzz, trying to avoid their erratic trails as they flit from blossom to blossom.
And while I do suffer from melissophobia, I know that this is good for the bees, and good for the earth. But I do count down the days till they shoo away because I HATE BEE STINGS. So I stand back and let them go at the holly bushes, ten feet wide and taller than I am.
During the Roaring 20’s, no ball player beat the popularity of George Herman Ruth, Jr. Born in 1895 in the Pigtown section of Baltimore, Maryland, he reached his greatest fame as a slugging outfielder for the New York Yankees. That’s Babe in the boater hat.
And in case you need a refresher course on hats from 100 years ago, here ye be:
Note that there is a porkpie hat, and this post is about Babe (also a pig’s name), who was born in the Pigtown section. And also he was a bit of a porker.
Women of all ages adored him as well.
Especially those in flapper hats.
He had many nicknames during his all-star years:
And he never forgot his fans.
Is anything more refreshing than a lakeside dip in seven pounds of swimsuit? It looks like a good way to get pulled under by a current. And who’s got time for a watery grave these days? Hard pass.
At the turn of the century before the turn of this last century, folks was modest. Bared female knees were considered skanktastic, although this man’s naked knees are evidently enjoying 1900, where the living is easy. He does seem a bit cold, though. Perhaps he also should have worn a button down dress.
Photographer Telfer snapped this pic in Cooperstown, NY, at the waters of Otsego Lake. Americanheritage.com says, “Most people know Coooperstown as the home of novelist James Fenimore Cooper, a beautiful resort, and as the place where baseball was supposedly invented by Abner Doubleday.” But I’ve never heard any of those things until about three minutes ago, so there you are.
While I admit that Sophia Loren is a beautiful woman (no question), this image doesn’t sit well with me. It’s not just the fact that the hair is reminiscent of Klute hair (go Google that on your own time); it’s that this photo is credited as being taken in 1960. It doesn’t seem consistent with the moment. Think of Marilyn Monroe in 1960. This was not the style. Plus, it’s ew.
The classic Sophia has voluminous dark hair and thick eyeliner and a bosom for days.
If she’s supposed to be dressed in day-laboring peasant clothes, we’re not buying it. Her stare is regal, almost confrontational. Her skin is supple and dark, her posture solid.
Early blond bleach job Sophia is lovely (and ever-voluptuous), but nearly unrecognizable.
The internet is full of Sophia images with her arms raised, hairy armpits on display. Is that the Italian way? I’ll spare you those, as well as the classic Jayne Mansfield side-eye.
So instead, I’ll leave you with this playful one.
And this chiropractor’s nightmare.
Or fantasy, depending on your perspective.
“Here the atomic bomb is developed. People in Los Alamos lead almost normal lives. Residents have no unexpected visitors, no graveyards, no unemployment, and no real-estate taxes, but they do have a bountiful crop of babies. By showing passes, they are free to leave the reservation as they please; yet some complain of feeling shut in.”
I’ve my thrown my back out several times both sneezing and stepping off curbs the wrong way. I am not cut out to drive logs on the Swift Diamond River in New Hampshire, like these fellows. I am weak.
Nor can I tug wagons o’ tires.
When rubber came to Ohio in 1910, Akron became a boom city, and guys like this were able to breathe rubber fumes all day.
Here’s another job I can’t do due to my fear of heights. Is he washing windows? Is he scaling the sides of buildings to fulfill a male superhero fantasy? All I know is that was 40 years ago, and he ain’t doing it now.
And the last job I wouldn’t want: naked bakery boy.
It’s not because I’m uppity or that I don’t love gluten, because I loves me some glutenny gluten. But I would need an apron. And some sort of hair net so as not to get stray hairs into the sourdough.