Made some ports of a former Buffalo Jill who now works at Middling City Museum of Science.
As there are props galore at the venue decided to put her amid what scuh-reams Museum! Science! ~ dinos, of course.
This frame is a light test before she hopped the railing and hobbled over to the cast bones in her high-heeled boots on the muy authentico terra cotta chips.
Yours Truly would like to know how or why specialists in the world of dinos believe or know that the sky back then was usually a magenta colour.
After this area, posed the X-Jill with triceratops, a small dino who is the size of a Great Dane, and some large skull.

Then on to a few other areas of supreme interest.

Wanted to make more images of thee Eddy, the MC's famed chimp of yore, but he's back in the mothballs so to speak.
Eddy was out on the grand concourse for the museum's last exhibition centering on their diverse collections.
Where one could see small animals taxidermied, alongside Dutch wooden clogs, small vitrines of oddities from the Victorian Era, and, way amongst other things, a benefactor's shoe collection - well-worn.

Today YT is jurying this year's Big Orbit Gallery's members' show with two other past solo show/first place winners.
Before that, however, am heading out to points beyond for some good old-fashioned snow tromping on snowshoes, in the woods, over hill -n- dale.

This fine morn documented a group learning how to use an automatic defribilator device, or an AEDM.
Just casually observing for approximately 40 minutes I feel that if You were in peril, YT could now satisfactorily cut your clothing off, attach the pads, and administer mouth-to-mouth.
The machine talks to you.

Approximately 1,000 years ago YT attended and was certified in CPR at the American Red Cross. YT had forgotten how many heart pumps in between breaths is, as Martha says, a good thing: thirty.

Thirty pumps, Love.

Today was a fantastic shooting day: first in a library making sunny portraits of a person who I know, who I enjoyed visiting with, in a place where Yours Truly spent many an hour in her formative years researching - and napping; and then, hours later, in a police h.q. making portraits of a detective.
YT, ever-intrepid, asked if we could use the onsite cells as a background of sorts, careful to not use the word prop.
After discussing the work of the detective it became obvious the wiser, more vivid choice, was to use the forensic crime lab.
Replete with brushes, that nice powder in various hues.
Upon entering the lab YT looked around and, amongst other items, spotted some surveillance photos, and asked if these should absolutely not be in any images for sensitivity's sake.
The detective said that the surveillance images, as well as several of enlarged fingerprints, were A-OK.
Upon leaning in for a closer gander, asked what the surveillance images were, as they showed a man in a fast food drive-thru.
They were of the man who - I leave out the bigger details - ran over the female college student and fled the scene.
We talked about that night's details.
Numero uno that is amazing is that the detectives thought of checking surveillance for all businesses in the area.
For a little levity I did tell the officer that I had no idea that this particular business had a drive-thru in the area, that it was to be filed away for future ref.

As much of today was spent in the vehicle/rolling office, listened to a lot of NPR, and caught a story about a coach who had denied the basic human right of water to his players, and one of those teen players died as a result of this.
I immediately thought of Vincenzo and his fledgling coaching career so called to share this Big Caveat.
He assured me that his team is not only hydrated, but is over-hydrated.
I hung up satisfied that YT had done her share to help prevent unnecessary death, unhydration, and litigation.

Another Big Caveat, from the detective.
Should You ever find yourself getting arrested, do not speak.
Say these words: rights, lawyer.
And say not one more word.
No explications.
Apparently people just narrative themselves into deeper and deeper miasmas.

I rest my case.
My Caveat-rich case.

Caveats, Love.

Yours Truly, in one of those precious & disoriented moments, got on the true-way heading not west, as she should have been, but east.
Much to the presumed amusement of the bearded man in the tollbooth.
Is it my imagination or back in the day didn't they let one turn around up yonder instead of Exiting at the next exit and backtracking.
What a pesky rule follower.
Did, finally, end up at the right location a mere twenty minutes behind schedule, for a delivery so it's not like a photo portrait subject was sitting in a puddle of tears.
But still.
I tried to envision where the highway west would be taking me and it felt so ... East Aurora. And wrong.
Time to make & do, make & do.

Oh, saw The Wrestler last night and deem not only Mickey Rourke's lips criminally over-plumped, but his eyeballs curiously smooth.
And those scars on his face seemed authentic.
And the movie left me feeling all grimy, and the lighting in the movie was agonizingly horrific - all grocery store, strip club, trailer park, and wrestling ring.
Where all its action happened.

KC's bro was into pro wrassling for a while and when I visited her in Vegas to do my mag story about wedding chapels, I stayed with KC and her extended fam, including the wrassler.
Who had the amped-up muscles, stolid demeanour, and curious hairdo requisite to the genre of reality.

As the dance floor hit choogled into collective bedazzlement in the late 80s, Back to life, back to reality. Over here.
Pushing pixels and the like.

Back to Love, Back to Love.

Very nearly began today not only minding my own business, but in the floral nook at the inner-Middling City Wegmans.
What was once the photo centre is now the floral nook as no one took in enough rolls and memory sticks to sustain the inner-grocery store printing & memory preservation.
As I've done before at several of the locations, I like to hijack the floral-gathering and arranging experience, asking the lady/ladies in charge if I can trim, wrap, and beribbon the bunches myself.
They at first are usually not too happy to unman their station but seeing how eager and how my floral plans are not quite theirs, they are always more than happy to step away from the DIY lady.
Going to a brunch at the home of a couple who are arts patrons of Yours Truly, and am bringing her a bunch of white flowers which she likes.
For myself and Kennedy purchased the ever-scentful hyacinths shown.
The scent of spring, of happy post-winter soil sprouting forth the beginnings of a colorful season in the garden.
Or, in this instant, some hothouse flowers that are a nice facsimile.

Onwards to artful, floral brunch.

Scented Love.