snapshaught sphoto number 10

          When my grandmother (whom I called Nana and have written about before) lived in New Hampshire, I found this almost two inch glass marble in an antique store in Keene, NH.  I purchased it in 1993 and was told it was about 90 years old.  It isn't a perfect sphere because the chips and scratches were buff-polished away by a previous owner (which significantly lowered its value and its purchase price).

          I have no negative memories affiliated with my Nana (Rebecca "Anne" Bullard nee Walker).

          For three and a half decades—from my earliest memories of moving into her house in the early-1960's until the mid-1990's when Alzheimer's turned her into a pod person and she became lost to everyone including herself—she was wonderful.  To me.

          She may have been a royal bitch to her husband, siblings, and extended family, a harridan to her children and other grandchildren, and a spiteful shrew to neighbors and others (which I occasionally witnessed or learned about afterward) but, when I was around, she was always in a fantastic mood.

          Every person I have ever known has a wonky day once in a while, or gets more than a little grumpy for a few days every month, or acts like a high-functioning petulant cunt most of the time, but I've only known two people who always have a smile to share.  Nana was one (albeit only when I was around) and the other is my partner, Pam.

similar essays:

Sphere Series (ongoing)

snapshaught sphoto number 9

          The word bad in Bad Kreuznach, Germany, refers to the Dutch word for bath because the city was once renowned for its bathhouse.  Because of my experiences there—for me—the English definition of the word is more apropos.    

          When I first visited the city in 1993 I was performing a protective service mission (at that time, I was a protective services agent for the NATO Commander).  Oddly, I found this 1⅞ inch (48mm) limestone sphere and its too-large-cup-stand at a local Italian restaurant where I ate dinner.  For two days I worked with SA Nwtptg (name withheld to protect the guilty) from the two-man Bad Kreuznach CID office.  He always referred to the city by its initials, so I—also—began doing so.

          Six years and two assignments later, I took over the Wiesbaden, Germany, CID office and learned the BK office was now subordinate to me.  Oddly, SA Nwtptg was still there.  I quickly learned he was unable to perform the most common tasks (report writing, investigative note taking, collection of evidence, etc.) without constant oversight and guidance.  I documented his failings, but as is normal (not just in the US military, everywhere) he was promoted and assigned to a larger office, where he assaulted a suspect, lied to an internal affairs investigator and coerced a witness to lie for him (resulting in his extreme reduction in rank—from officer to enlisted—and removal from CID).

          I investigated numerous grisly traffic fatalities on the road between Wiesbaden and BK because several drivers took their eyes off the road to change their radio or CD; I got the biggest ass-chewing in my career (from a two-star general, the 8th Inf Div CG) because of the unprofessional actions of another subordinate assigned to the BK office; and the German civilian "translator" at the BK CID office was the highest-paid, most-worthless person I ever had the misfortune to share a room with (I'd write supervise, but she never worked...all she did was read books).  I attempted to terminate her employment and discovered it wasn't possible.  In fact, the opposite was true—authorizing an annual bonus was mandatory even though she performed no assigned duties, ever.

          Not every sphere reminds me of good places, people or times; this one elicits nothing but bad memories.  I guess that's not completely true—the lasagna at the Italian restaurant was pretty good and I am still good friends with a couple who lived in BK before they moved to Wiesbaden.

similar essays:

Sphere Series (ongoing)

Death Trap - Taste of Future by Böris Dorning

snapshaught sphoto number 8

          I already wrote a snippet about my Crater Lake visit in 2009, which is when I bought this grey agate sphere.  I found in on the way to the crater in Eagle Point, Oregon, after we left The Oregon Vortex and House of Mystery.

          When one has as many spheres as I, it can be difficult to find a unique one which conforms to my parameters:

• Between 1½ and 2¼ inches (40 - 55mm) in diameter.  Golf ball to billiards ball...not much larger.
• One piece.
• No intentional flat portion (they all have some form of a stand).
• Reasonable price (relative to my budget).

          I've gone on many trips and come home without a sphere.  And not always because there weren't any for sale, sometimes every sphere I found was a duplicate of one I already had.

          I don't love this design/color; it's forgettable.  But I had no grey-streaked agate before this...and besides...the weather was rather grey that trip (except for a bit of sun at Crater Lake, but not much).

similar essays:

Sphere Series (ongoing)

Top Five Posts (determined by page view) — let the avalanche begin

          There is a theory that when views are tallied by most favorited or most viewed (as they are on many shopping, video, art, porn, movie, and book sites...and now here at snapperhead) the self-fulfilling prophesy factor snowballs.  The more people search for (or look at) what has previously been searched for (or looked at) the more...well...you get the picture.  Eventually, the numbers avalanche.  "Hey this U-Tube video has 54 million views—it must be phantasmagorically interesting."  NOOOope.

          After about seven years, these are the five posts which have been viewed more than all the rest.

          Story: 

            In 2009 I wrote the short story Life Mission: Possible about signposts and totems, which have been and continue to be prevalent in my life—and those of many others.  I suspect it's my most read story not because it humorously tracks my televisions, pets, relationships, and microwaves but because people are keyword searching Mission Impossible and get snagged by the pictures.  Or maybe by the writing.  Nah.  

          Novel:

           I read this shitty book, Earth Abides, in 2005.  My review, Counterfeit Paper: A Valuable Teaching Tool, was posted here as well as on Goodreads (where it's been read and 'liked' by more than my others).  Upon re-reading it today I still agree with seven year ago self.  Good job me.

          Art:  

           I created the digital rendering pareidolia-apophenia in 2009.  It's also on deviantart where it's received ten times more views than the average of all my other art.  I don't know why.  Maybe the title is catchy.  I like the title.  Aesthetically, however, I don't like it.  But that's just me.  500 others have a different opinion (or one dingleberry views it every day).  

          Personal Perspective:

           My article Kirby Archer: an infamous friend is potent bait.  It draws in those who are curious about true crime and I can't fault anyone drawn to the morbid.  It's not only my most viewed, but also my most commented post.  Everyone who thought they knew him, once heard about him, worked with him, crossed his path, or watched a sketchy splash-bio on TV about his crime spree (and wants to know more) eventually lands on this article.

          Comic Strip:

           The attraction of the cartoon Anatomical Doll - strip, which I made from a photo scramped from Davecat, can only be attributed to the misleadingly factual titular words.

           While compiling these most-viewed posts, I realized that every one of them contains a punctuation mark.  A correlation, obviously, but could it also be causation?   Hmmm.

snapshaught sphoto number 7

          My retirement present to myself in 2001 was a month in Australia.  I found this 1¾" (47mm) sphere in a store called The Crystal Caves in Atherton, Queensland, while staying nearby (in an amazing treehouse).  Prior to that I visited/stayed at the lava caves in the outback.  The following week I was scuba diving from a live-aboard in the Coral Sea and Great Barrier Reef.  The vacation also included stays in Sydney and Cairns; deep sea fishing from Port Douglas; a day-trip to Lizard Island for snorkeling...too many to recount once-in-a-lifetime events.  

          I like spheres which are composed of a visually interesting mix of minerals or types of rock.  This one is a combination of Australian jade and either quartz or calcite.  When turned just-so the light refracts through the crystal, bounces off and magnifies the interior side of the jade (rust-brown to green) and looks just like a tiny bit of ocean bottom through a SCUBA mask.

similar essays:

Sphere Series (ongoing)

snapshaught sphoto number 6

          This glass marble reminds me of my stepfather.

          My first memory of him:  He was dating my mother.  I was seven.  We were all "going out" as a family to an event (I vaguely remember The Ice Capades but that may have been a different night) I think it was a celebration because I recall all the adults...her, him, Nana, and Papa...were happy and full of loud smiles.  He asked if I'd help him get a tool box from his backseat.

          I accompanied him out to his sky blue 1964 Lincoln Continental in the driveway, he opened the backdoor, and I commented that it was backward.  He laughed and said it was a suicide door...no further explanation.  I'm seven.  Why's it called that?  Because it's backwards.  I didn't think to myself at this point:  Oh boy, living the rest of my childhood with this motherfucker is going to be a real treat if he thinks that's an explanation.  But I did the third-grader's equivalent (shoulder shrug or eye-roll or head shake) and thought "adults sure are stupid".

          Seeing the size of the metal box, painted the same color as the car, I thought he was testing me to either see how strong I was or to see how willing I was to try to pick up something I knew I couldn't lift.  I couldn't tell which test it was by his smile, so I went along with it...grabbed the handle, gave it a tug (it didn't budge) and then watched as he oompfed and grunted it into the house.  It was filled with his coin collection...and probably weighed as much me.

 

          In 1995 he died of heart disease complicated by diabetes and exacerbated by being an obstinate asshole.  I've written about my stepdad before.  Because he was divorced from my mother, after his funeral I took a month off from my military duties, slept in his house, and spent hundreds of hours sorting through and throwing away decades of junk, files, and papers (he wasn't a full-blown hoarder but he kept unnecessary things...like thirty years of credit card receipts).

          This 1¾" (46mm) marble was on a shelf in his bedroom surrounded by other knick-knacks...my last memory of him.

similar essays:

Sphere Series (ongoing)

STRANGE WORLD

visit STRANGE WORLD blog

snapshaught sphoto number 5

          I lived in Mons, Belgium 1993-95.  Summer weather permitting, I occasionally drove west about ninety miles to one of the beaches near Oostend (which I thought at the time was another everything-is-backward-in-French thing, today I read on everyone's favorite chalkboard that there's a historical reason why the farthest western city is named Eastend).

          After a long beach afternoon in 1994, I and my wife-at-the-time had a very nice dinner and stayed in a bed and breakfast in nearby Bruges.  The next morning I rescued this from a flea market vendor who was intending to cut it in half.

          He was running a geode grab-bag: select from a huge pile of over three hundred various shapes and sizes, pay for it, and then he'd halve and polish the halves.  No guarantees that your geode would contain a druzy cavity.  On display were precut and polished halves with beautiful crystals lining the inside pockets (priced double to 20X more than the uncut, rough geodes).

          Although there is a slight score mark on this 2 inch (53mm) geode, it's as perfectly spherical as a naturally formed rock could be.

          The Flemish vendor (who spoke no English) seemed quizzical (het inclusief!) and became rather flabbergasted when I didn't want to take advantage of his saw and grindstone services and couldn't explain myself other than to smile and repeat, dit is goad, as I nodded and walked away.

similar essays:

Sphere Series (ongoing)

snapshaught sphoto number 4

          Last April we stayed in a yurt (because we'd never done it before).  Two mid-week nights were available the following week, so we decided the weather was nice enough and made the reservation (we aren't dedicated foolish enough to lock-in anything over a year in the future...so yurt camping in the Summer or on a weekend would never happen).

          As we headed to Fort Stevens State Park, the weather was normal for Oregon in April: partly cloudy and cool.  We stopped in Astoria, Oregon, to eat and I found this sphere in a second-hand shop.  Slightly larger than 2" (52mm), this hand-blown glass float most-probably was attached to a Japanese fisherman's net a half-century or more ago.

          As it got dark it began to snow.  By the next morning many of the high-passes were closed even though only about two or three inches accumulated on the beach.  We drove the ice and snow covered sand, explored local eateries, and kept as warm as anyone could when camping in below freezing weather.

          Although the yurt had a built-in space heater it also had edge flaps which were laced and tied-down.  One cancelled out the other.  Depending on the strength of the wind blowing through the cracks, the interior temperature fluctuated between 45° and 55° (7-13°C).

similar essays:

Sphere Series (ongoing)