crackedmirror

Pictures on Steroids?

debbielynn — Tue, 15 Aug 2006 17:37:14 +0000

As you can see, instead of having nice, regular sized photos here, mine are damn poster size editions. I’m very “green” still and don’t know how to go about making them smaller. Please, any info would be appreciated. I don’t want it to take an hour and a half for people to load my blog. Just stick your suggestions in the comments, as it’s sometimes awhile before I get back here…this is one of many blogs for me. But this photo thing just isn’t working out. Thanks, in advance!

Another Steveston Pic

debbielynn — Tue, 15 Aug 2006 02:38:31 +0000

I’m having trouble getting pics blogged so, for now, one at a time will have to suffice. This one (as is the case with all future photos) is Steveston, where I was born and raised (lucky me?)…it’s absolutely beautiful here.

This Is Where I Live

debbielynn — Fri, 11 Aug 2006 01:19:08 +0000

O.K….don’t know why this has the ssssstttrretched out effect, but this is my second (and last) attempt to correct it so, deal with it. I was lucky enough to be born and raised here (Steveston). This is one of many pics I’ll be posting from my regular bike rides along the Fraser. Too tired right now, but will work on fixing this problem later on so we get “regular” pictures.

It’s A Crying Shame!

debbielynn — Tue, 25 Jul 2006 05:54:28 +0000

You’d almost think someone had stolen this little girl’s candy, judging by her torment. And actually, you’d be right. As part of an exhibit entitled “End Times” at the Paul Kopeikin Gallery in L.A., children aged two and three had their lollipops taken away to capture their reactions in photographs. The photos were used in the exhibit, which depicted the state of the world and what we’re leaving to our children – it’s supposed to illustrate how they’d feel about it all. Apparently this has raised a few eyebrows as people question and debate exploiting the children in this way, simply to capture a photograph. The parents were all in attendance during the shoots – it’s actually quite amusing and I’m sure they’ll get over it. I just would never have subjected my toddler to this – I guess others are different. It’s all in the name of art? Check out the rest at the link on my sidebar (when I get it up there).

Beautiful Place That B.C.

debbielynn — Sat, 22 Jul 2006 19:45:02 +0000

Gorgeous, isn’t it? This is not my photo and I believe I got it from “Fuzzbox’s” Flickr pics. Will correct this if it isn’t so. Just fell in love with all of his stuff, as it touched right where I live. This is my father’s favorite spot in the world (besides next to his family). He’s fished here, as many others have, for 50 years or so. Once the open water’s in their blood, there’s no turning back. Seeing Fuzzbox’s pics, it’s no wonder why.

Time For A Haircut?

debbielynn — Sun, 16 Jul 2006 22:52:09 +0000

OMG, who do I think I am, “Pebbles”? I think I need to update and get some much needed hair attention. Before and after will follow (still don’t have my camera set up, this is a photobooth rendition of me). Sad.

BC Lions

debbielynn — Sat, 15 Jul 2006 21:20:56 +0000

My son and his girlfriend went to the game last night and, according to them, it was a big disappointment. I could only listen on the radio – why they’d black it out with over 28,000 seats sold is beyond me? Punish those fans who can’t get out to the game I guess. Anyways, the second half we kind of fell apart, but I’m not the least bit worried. My boys will get it done – they’re probably just waiting for my ass up there in the stands before they do. I don’t think I’ve ever been there for a losing game. So I’ll get my tickets for the next game, when we’re gonna’ kick some serious ass. Geroy’s my main man – he’s spectacular and never disappoints. Such a class act. And with Johnson, Jackson, Thelwell, Warren, Dave, etc., etc., how can we go wrong? “Come on and roar you lions…..”

She Was A Superstar

debbielynn — Sat, 15 Jul 2006 01:14:57 +0000

This is my girl. I guess I should say “was”, but I have a hard time with that. My best friend for 15 years (unconditionally). I got her from the pound, right around my birthday, and she was the only dog there that didn’t “rush” the front of her pen, yapping and pleading for attention (not that I didn’t love all the dogs there – would’ve taken them all if I could’ve). But there was something special about her. She was a little wet bundle, curled up on the cement in the back of her pen. She was shivering and watching as I tried to coax her to come and introduce herself. She eventually (reluctantly) did, and I was sold on the spot. It was her gentle manner. Her big brown eyes. She seemed “polite”, and much smarter than any other dog I’d ever seen. And she was. We made an instant connection.

After going through the list of things she had “wrong” with her, including worms and kennel cough, we got another list, which was medication we’d need for her. She apparently was pretty much on the brink of death when we got her. And I always sensed that she was grateful and knew that we’d “saved” her – her loyalty and protectiveness somehow told me she was returning the favor.

She had a wonderful life with us – she ruled the house. She had fluffy beds and eventually “upgraded” to her own loveseat in a nice corner of the living room in the sunshine. She ate only the best – roast beef, steak and cheese biscuits I’d bake just for her (and her friends, who sometimes visited). She came out on the boat with us and loved to swim (a lab/border collie cross). She’d “launch” herself off the bow of the boat, straight into the water. She’d sit there, shivering with anxiety and anticipation and wimpering and whining for us to give her the snap of the finger and the “okay” command – that was her signal to go. I’ll never forget the time my ex’s (drunk) idiot friend took over at the wheel and gave her the command too early. She jumped in and he ran straight over her with the boat. My heart sank and I couldn’t look as I screamed. But there she was, paddling out the other side and no worse for wear. Somehow she’d manage to escape any injury and shook off on the shore like nothing had happened.

Another time, when we were away at the lake, she went into the bushes and we heard a “yelp”. She then came out with her nose all swollen up. My ex immediately went into the bush to see what had “bitten” her – he couldn’t see, but we’re quite sure it was a snake. She had scars on her nose and was lovingly, occassionally called “Scarface” after that.

She’s been gone some time now – she had a stroke that I nursed her back from for two years. Afterward I had to carry her in and out to pee and hold her up underneath with a towel. I wouldn’t have let that go on for too long – for her sake. But, I’ll be damned if she didn’t spring back and was pretty good for those two years or so before she passed.

Today (like every other day) I miss the hell out of her. Everytime I go to the beach we went to I write her name in a heart with a stick and take a moment to try and picture her fetching a stick out of the water, or tearing up and down the beach like she owned it.

I really miss her today.

Invasion

debbielynn — Tue, 11 Jul 2006 04:02:33 +0000

This is a poem I wrote in response to a local home invasion that happened a while ago, in which an elderly couple were beat in their home and the man eventually died of his massive injuries. The wife was left alone and traumatized – they were in their 90′s. It’s becoming all too common to hear stories like these and it’s just so unimaginable to me. The elderly, children and animals warrant extra consideration in a line that shouldn’t be crossed, as they are the most vulnerable and should be protected. We shouldn’t stand for this. The attacker was a drug addict who was arrested shortly after, with the pending trial now upgraded to murder.

All mighty clasp
got you ‘round the neck
no longer human
you’ve become a train wreck
is this the sole reason
the monster is you?
you bloody and bruise
a man ninety two?
break into his home
terrorize his wife
steal his belongings
threaten his life
did that give you power?
your fix for the day?
I hope what comes ‘round
will soon see you pay
He was someone’s grandpa
and probably, for years
lived his life right
Now his wife waits in tears
As he fights for his life
at your hands doing
I hope you are caught
’cause the cops are pursuing
A line is crossed
with grandparents and children
you damage the goods
it’s like you have killed ‘em
For, forever after
they’ll live in your fear
looking over their shoulders
asking, “who’s here?’
Imprisoned by memory
they’ll never escape
the fate that you’ve dealt them
psychological rape
It’s sad that you’ve stooped
to the ultimate low
I pray for those people
Hope your torture’s slow.

Tamara’s Work

debbielynn — Mon, 10 Jul 2006 03:07:44 +0000

A friend of mine (one of two that I inherited this computer from) used to do wonderful, intricate work. This is one of her “miniatures” – we watched the process as she “built” it. She also did some fantastic wood carvings, which I’ll show later. Very cool!