I nearly thought I'd misheard the person on the (sprint v of the iPhone, which Yours Truly is finding still very irritating, like why doesn't it let me freakin' know who the caller on the ol' caller id is) cellie when he said that John Edwards (of $300 haircut fame, amongst other things) was stepping out on his dying wife to not only share his smarmy love, but to father a child.
Wow.
Just when You think you've just about imagined the depths that the human soul can plunge.
On a much lighter note, Elvis's peacock jumpsuit set a new higher Olympic-style bar by now being the most spendy thing that his skin ever rested upon.
YT still marvels at the gay French couple aboard the Lisa Marie (Elvis's plane parked at Graceland, who looked at the gold sink and muttered, together, Incroyable.)
YT more marveled at the king-sized bed, with its king-sized belt buckle across it.
Just spent most of this entire day in the car, and in churches.
A funeral.
A wedding.
Now onto vino in Liz's garden.
Incroyable indeed.

Indelible, always edible Love.

Here, for Your viewing pleasure to the max, is an image of Yours Truly made at historic, ghost-haunted (a ghost of headless variety, not like that dickless ghost - Peter Piccolo - who haunts 124 Elmwood Avenue where YT had her basement darkroom and who, like several others, was encountered/encumbered by PP on various occasions) Old Fort Niagara.
All sunny and brochured history in handy snippets. All the stone buildings assigned numbers.
Crabby soldiers in either British or French ensembles either ignoring, instructing, or crab-assing at the fort's visitors.
One fun fact gleaned the day of visit.
Only officers were able to have menu choices, with herbs grown inside the fort in gardens.
All others ate: peas, weak soup, salted pork.
A woman in the fort kitchen showed a sample of salted pork in a crock.
It was gray.
It did rather resemble the fondued duck that YT ate with niece and nephew at Melting Pot not too long ago.
We decided it's fundue, not fondue.
It was expensive, yet delicious, more complex than other fundues/fondues enjoyed in the past. It was in the G-Mall of the Middling City, a place as placeless as anything in Vegas. Anonymous, functional, delicious.
This image of YT shows me posing as a cowboy, inspired by the stockade fence.
The mercenaries onhand were oso similar to the cowboys of this great country's wild west and YT pays homage to these characters.
I am pretending to have a piece of hay, or a smoke of old historic twist in my mouth.
Below are images from a fortly window, its opening covered with not so muy authentico plexi, and an image of a lost Japanese tourist boy.
Inside YT encountered a French tourist girl who asked YT to make an image of her and as her camera's shutter was about to be deployed she splayed herself on an old historic chair.
Later YT would spot the girl approaching the ersatz trading post counter and hopping over it, setting off a screeching alarm.
YT did pet the wolf pelt onhand, on the counter, inside the historic old fort's first building, No. 12 in the brochure, for when does one ever have the chance to touch the pelt/fur of a wolf.

Wolf in Love's clothing, Love.

Nature, ever full of surprises, made a nice double rainbow after a series of cloudburst rainstorms this past Saturday in and around the Middling City.
Yours Truly was making spectacular images of a wedding day and suddenly word spread like non-virtual, tree-destroying wildfire, that there was a full-arc rainbow not to be missed.
YT, after making this image over South Buffalo (SoBo to some), asked the wedding party in tuxes, in green dresses, to stand over there. Pointing, underneath the arc.
This wedding happened in the Botanicus Gardenus, lest You cannot identify this flagpole and walkway.
As the guests dined YT wandered about the various galleries of the BG, rubbing a palm over various species of fern.
Heard a couple's mutterings as they sat inside the little green cabana of living plants.

Last night met up with a bunch of former co-workies at Mothers, the first time there in quite a long while. We all recalled a visit to the verysame one summer a while back when rats were approaching our table as if to beg for scraps.

Taking niece and nephew out for dinner tonight, a joint I've been curious about for some time. The venue is incidental, it's all about the familial hobnob.

Spent a small portion of today earlier at Old Fort Niagara, as if there's a newer one on the scene. Drove up with Kennedy and meandered about the grass, the stones, cobblestones. Asked a British soldier if they ever fire off true blue cannonballs.
He answered in the negative.
No cannonballs but they pack a solid aural punch.
Same soldier later showed off some faux artifacts, explaining that charcoal Sweetened the breath, polished the teeth, but wore off enamel five times faster than regular toothpaste.
And no minty flavour.

Cannonballs of Love.