This 1947 Blueprint yearbook referred to one of these fellows as “Lonesome Polecat,” and I immediately thought that that might be the best name for an indie folk band ever, until I Googled it, and DARNED if it isn’t a song from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. It includes the lyrics, “a man can’t sleep when he sleeps with sheep.” Goodness!
1967 Round Table, Oklahoma City, OK
This Del Masters pinup opens itself up to many questions. Firstly, we all know that hitchhiking is frowned upon, especially once serial killers came into vogue. Who knows what kind of person might rescue her? Secondly, there is no way that seaplane could spot her thumb from so high above. Even supposing it is a seaplane that had the capability of landing Sully-style near her, the waves would topple her raft, especially if she insists on standing astride it. The last thing a pilot wants to see is a distraught young woman in a wet, white shirt.
Thirdly, both she and her luggage would be better off sitting down. Surely she’s not wearing stilettos, or the raft will be sunk in no time. Why is she on a raft in the first place? Did her boat overturn on a three hour tour? Did everyone else perish? Did one oar float away? It’s a good thing she’s decked out in her best seafaring ensemble, garters, and flimsy blouse. Let’s just hope that pilot isn’t on his phone, or he may just miss her.
Billy ought not take one step forward or those blueberries are liable to tumble down along the sidewalk. In fact, all of the produce seems balanced at a precarious angle, as you can see, and as they can see. This entire page is about seeing. I see a well-dressed family at the grocery store, perhaps in their Sunday best. What do you see?
Girls dancing to the music of the “mouth organ” (let’s call it a harmonica) to celebrate the August Bank Holiday on Hampstead Heath. Despite the layers of heavy clothing, they seem to be enjoying the moment just fine.
Cheapside, a street in London, in 1893 by Paul Martin, who noted that “refreshments of sherbet and water were 1/2d per glass” (or 1/2 a penny)
Nearly 130 years old, this image shows us so much, from the design of the watercooler to the fashion of the day, the architecture of the lamppost to the woman selling apples, the omnipresence of hats to the crowded London street. Fascinating!
10 Octobers ago
before the playscape was dismantled
when grass was green
Tonto could see
and
the boy still sat in swings
Roxie, shown here, is our youngest pound dog. Tonto is our 13-year-old pound dog, now blind and sometimes incontinent if made to hold his bladder overnight. As such, he sleeps in a kennel now to prevent him from messing on a carpet, which though rare, has happened. Roxie has the run of the house each night, as she is master of her bladder. However, the past couple of months have seen her venture over to his kennel, a place she had never before visited. She began spending a few minutes in there each night. Was she marking it with her scent? Didn’t she realize she was the lucky one, free to roam about, not jailed?
Now she spends most of the entire night in his kennel, while he snuggles into a dog bed near the coffee table, the more sociable of the two. We’re not sure why the change in her behavior, as she used to enjoy being stroked and scratched in the living room. The kennel has been there for years, and she has only just now decided to make it her evening resting spot, though Tonto sleeps in it overnight. This shot took her unawares as I stopped mid-cooking dinner to venture over to the kennel. Perhaps of all the five dog beds, this one is just the floofiest.
At first glance, it looks like she’s scooping ranch dressing on to deep dish pizza. Not the worst thing in the world.
But further inspection shows that S’Macaroni Bake is actually canned salmon with creamy lemon sauce, and fun pimiento zig-zag lattice work over green olives. Not the Sunday nite dish I had as a kid, but then again, my mom never wore a dress with a bustle.
The ad says men go for its mouth-watering flavor. It doesn’t say what women go for, but who cares in 1955, right? Just bake it already.
I Don't Get It 