Dresses? Can anyone say micro-mini? Sheesh…these girls tugged and pulled to ensure no accidental wardrobe malfunctions! Some of the dresses were very, ahem, sophisticated.
Prom Night At Our Place
Posted on December 13, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
loving fiercely | teaching audaciously | thinking deeply
Posted on December 13, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
Dresses? Can anyone say micro-mini? Sheesh…these girls tugged and pulled to ensure no accidental wardrobe malfunctions! Some of the dresses were very, ahem, sophisticated.
Posted on December 10, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
Posted on December 2, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
http://masonimages.com/ |
Posted on November 18, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
Sometimes as I’m moving around in my day, an image gets stuck in my head that I can’t shake. Sometimes it conjures up a memory, a feeling, or provides an impulse to do something. Often, though, I just see something that I want to capture in my mind for no particular reason-it just speaks to me. I’d like to offer these images up for ‘thought contributions’-as a way to generate a community of ideas together.
This week’s Friday Photo was taken on our local university in front of one of my favorite places: the library. These sculptures, The Eggheads, are sprinkled around campus, each symbolizing a particular aspect of college life. The artist, Robert Arneson, believed that his art should embody economic, social and political commentary-and this Egghead does just that for me. My brain is so full these days, nearly every night I fall asleep in this Bookhead position!
What would a sculpture look like of you these days ?
Posted on November 17, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe
His laugh, low and husky, always makes me smile. Not a man to rush, he enjoys the moments of his life, no matter how big or small. ‘Things have a way of working themselves out,” he always tells me.
For a little northern California girl, Los Angeles is a city of magic. PSA shuttles me to Burbank during the summer, never disappointing my expectations. The burgundy Buick feels slow and safe, just what a small granddaughter needs to feel welcomed in the big city. The short drive to Sherman Oaks holds the anticipation of Christmas morning at the end of the road. Down one endless avenue to the next, right up to the little yellow house. His strong hand reaches for mine across the beige upholstery.
The radio in the front bedroom quietly broadcasts the latest news as Nanook the Husky softly nuzzles my welcome. Push up pops appear from the freezer. The bullfighter still graces the bedroom wall. Joan of Arc gazes from her perch. The bean bag offers a nest to sink into.
We arrive in the darkness. More stoic unsettled, she draws the long silver Cartagena scissors to tenderly snip a lock of his hair. So still. The tears flow silently, slowly.
His hands clasp in tranquility. I slump to his side, tenderly kiss his cheek. No rush now. He has enjoyed the moments of his life. I savor this last one we spend together. Somehow, I know things have a way of working themselves out.