These fresh-faced ladies of the 1920s modeled the current swimsuit garb of “modish jersey tank suits, curl-revealing caps and high two-tone shoes.” One can hardly imagine lacing up shoes for the beach or how much sand would enter them.
In contrast, the 2/7/55 LIFE compares the bleak, black tank/shorts of the past to the fashionable “sweater-girl bathing suits” of the present, with clinging knit, loud stripes, broad straps, skirts, and sleeves. Plus, they had the luxury of going barefoot.
Either way, the lesson here is to always have a cigarette handy, especially at the beach.
Back in February of 2021, central Texas experienced what we’ve termed “Snowpocalypse.” We were iced in for five days, unable to step out onto our front porches, get mail, or get food. Many of us had no water, and others had no electricity due to downed lines. It was then that thousands of surrounding trees died.
We had high hopes that they would rally in spring, and a small few did. But most just died, and much money and time were spent in stumpgrinding and removal. Yards all over town have empty spots on their lawns, or small saplings still tied to the stakes. We let over a year pass until we finally gave up on our backyard palm tree. It gave up the ghost long ago.
Yesterday, however, we visited Margarita’s restaurant for the first time in years. It used to be visible from the road by its couple dozen large palm trees, swaying in the breeze. It was a lovely tropical vibe. Yesterday, we could barely see it from the road. Then we realized it, too, had suffered palm tree loss.
And yet all the trunks remain standing, like a once-tropical Stonehenge. At this point, they should be felled. But replacing them would run into the hundreds of thousands. Until then, I imagine they will stand proudly but sadly in the breeze.
Poor Tonto, stuck outside on a rainy day, while Buddy enjoys the warm house. Buddy was our Thanksgiving visitor, and the only dog with hypoallergenic fur, which meant he got to stay inside among the humans, especially the one with allergies.
Don’t feel sad for Tonto; Roxie kept him company. The patio was dry, and they were able to return to their plush dog beds by evening, when Buddy returned home. And if you think about it, Tonto doesn’t even have eyeballs, so he probably didn’t know Buddy was standing there.
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!
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!
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.
I Don't Get It 