New York Aquarium Part 1

We've been trying to follow the "work hard, play hard" mentality.  Hubby works long hours during the week and we try to cram in a whole bunch of fun during the weekend.  Last Saturday we visited the New York Aquarium. It was amazing.  We felt like we were visiting another world.      

 

A girl named Kim

Hi everyone!  Sorry that things have been a bit quiet around here.  One of my good friends Kim is visiting

us for a couple of days.  We've been really enjoying having her around.  I'm definitely going to miss her when she leaves tomorrow.   

(Luckily, she's also a bit photo-crazy like me, so I have TONS of photos from her stay.  Here are a couple of my shots.)

Neighborhood faces

Walking outside with Baby Chuck is one of the highlights of my day.  Every time we walk outside we see something different.  I usually don't bring my camera out, but yesterday was an exception.  Here are a couple of photos that I snapped and then edited.  Hope you enjoy them! 

Bad Writing

Did you know that people actually compete for the best worst writing?  Every year since 1982, writers entered their worst opening sentences to the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.   This year's winning line came from Cathy Bryant of Manchester, England:
  

"As he told her that he loved her she gazed into his eyes, wondering, as she noted the infestation of eyelash mites, the tiny deodicids burrowing into his follicles to eat the greasy sebum therein, each female laying up to 25 eggs in a single follicle, causing inflammation, whether the eyes are truly the windows of the soul; and, if so, his soul needed regrouting."

You can see the whole list of winners here.  The following are some of my favorites:

She slinked through my door wearing a dress that looked like it had been painted on … not with good paint, like Behr or Sherwin-Williams, but with that watered-down stuff that bubbles up right away if you don’t prime the surface before you slap it on, and – just like that cheap paint – the dress needed two more coats to cover her. — Sue Fondrie, Appleton, WI

 As I gardened, gazing towards the autumnal sky, I longed to run my finger through the trail of mucus left by a single speckled slug – innocuously thrusting past my rhododendrons – and in feeling that warm slime, be swept back to planet Alderon, back into the tentacles of the alien who loved me. — Mary E. Patrick, Lake City, SC