First you’ll need to set aside any jokes about seminary rhyming with cemetery. Then do away with your mental picture of lots of Friar Tucks running around drafty monasteries.
You’ll need a clean mental slate if you’re going to get a feel for what life at Western Seminary is like — and an understanding of why Carrie here means so much to so many people.
Today’s my day off from blogging, sorta. I use Saturdays to share simple, unedited photos from my smartphone that give you a glimpse into my photography and into my life.
This blue hybrid bicycle is my wife’s trusty steed, giving its tires a brief rest along one of the longest paved bike trails not only in Sacramento, but in the United States: the American River Trail. What a great place to unwind together when Grandma and Grandpa take the kids for the morning.
My home is in California. It is a beautiful and rugged land that was first home to native Americans, then penniless pioneers and gold-crazed prospectors. It is also one of the younger American states. Perhaps all that explains why so many of the cemeteries of California are small or even neglected. Those dwelling here in California came with so little in their wagons and packs that they could hardly invest in landscaped lawns and manicured stones for the departed. They needed to focus on their own survival.
You’ve probably sorted out that the cemetery you see in this photo is most definitely not in California.
Used to be that a seagull could get some respect from the ol’ lady. But I sez that those days is long gone. My own wife, she treats me like I just hatched or sumthin’.
“Gus,” she sez, “We need a bigguh ledge, like my cousin Vi down the street.” “Gus,” she squawks, “You gots to ask yuh boss for a promoshun. I can’t live in squaluh like this no more.” She sez, “Maybe you could try takin’ a bath for a change.”
So what does I do about it? I don’ lose my cool. I books us one of them pansy bird couples’ retreats at Lake Tahoe (they calls it “Birds of a Feather”). You know, to put the va-va-voom back in the marriage. Biggest mistake o’ my life.
