I'm really, really tired, so I'm going to rush this entry and go to bed. But notice, please, that with Shelly's help I've got the blog set up pretty much the way I want it. Thanks, Shelly!
Today was one of those rare days when I get miles and miles away from Wilmot Road, the corridor that pretty much defines where I eat, sleep, work and worship. A friend asked me to take her shopping on Oracle Rd., in the northwest part of Tucson. On the way, we happened to pass this big fellow. Roadside America calls his ilk "muffler men," because many of these giant figures hold mufflers in their huge hands. This fellow is more properly a Paul Bunyan, made by the same company, International Fiberglass, in the 1960s and 1970s. The company started making these giant lumberjacks before adapting them as muffler men, cowboys, Indians, and even spacemen.
This particular Paul Bunyan figure is at the corner of Glenn and Stone Avenues in Tucson, in front of a hot rod supply shop. His nickname is "Glenn Stone, the axe murderer." Rumor has it that rookie cops are told to respond to a call about a big man wielding an axe at Glenn and Stone. Years ago, I bought a Mercury Capri right across the street from old Glenn. I like him. At Christmas they sometimes give him a candy cane to hold instead of his axe. For at least 20 years I've been wanting to write a story about one of these guys coming to life. but I've never managed to get an actual plot worked out. Maybe I should just take it from the top and make it up as I go along, as I pretty much always do.
When I came out of church this morning, there was actual snow on the mountains again, but this time with no clouds. It was starting to melt, though, as I left the house again an hour later. But the time I reached Oracle Road with my friend, it was all gone. Drat! But I did manage this shot of the Catalinas reddened by sunset, and much closer as seen from, um, I think it was Roger Road. (The garish yellow building is a local mattress factory; I like that, too.) Even the red on the mountains was gone by the time I dropped off my friend a few minutes later, and was free to pursue the photography. Moral: when a photo op appears, drop everything and take the shot!