I have a lot of photos in the “Blog Photos” folder on my computer that I’ve been planning to post here, but never did, for a variety of reasons.

Quite a few of my orphan photos fit into the category “Gee, I really like food!”

The only big idea behind this photo of cupcakes was “I wish I had some more of these cupcakes!”

Here’s one that says, “I really like making soup!” (But eating it? Not so much.)

After my husband got a whipped cream maker that shoots out real whipped cream as if it were a Kool Whip can, I took this photo to say, “Get a load of this whipped cream!”

And here’s the whipped cream maker in action:

Some of the other orphan photos have been kicking around because I liked the way they look, even though I don’t have anything clever to say about them. I took this photo of dried herbs and peppers hanging from a barn ceiling at the Hoes Down harvest  festival at Full Belly Farm last October.

This blacksmith was demonstrating his craft at the same festival.

I like this photo I took of Basketball Girl (back when she was a brunette) during our October visit to Wisconsin. We went on the world’s slowest trail ride on two of the world’s pokiest horses. (Mine was even pokier than hers, which is why I took this shot from behind.)

Here she is on the same trip with my aunt Sue, who died about a month later.  This photo is taken from the dock of my aunt and uncle’s house on Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, a place that holds lots of memories for me. 

 And here’s Sue, wrapped up in the quilt I made for her when I found out she was ill. I meant to write a memorial post about her after she died, but I didn’t have the heart for it at  the time.

And here’s a view of the woods around the lake. Living in in a place where there isn’t a real autumn, I really miss those bright, chilly Midwestern autumn days.

You can probably guess why I never posted this photo of a man filling up his tire at the gas station where we stop on our way out to the ocean:

This photo of the sea lions at Pier 39 in San Francisco has been in my blog folder for a couple of years. I named it “The Extraverts.” I kept thinking I would come up with a moral to go with the story, but I never did. So here it is anyway.

The Barbie box at the thrift store. I suppose all our Barbies of yesteryear ended up someplace like this.

Our next-door neighbor, overheard by my husband talking loudly and impatiently on a cell phone: “Just tell him we’ll send the divorce papers to the jail tomorrow!”

Summing up everything we know about these neighbors in one little sentence.

I opened the kitchen trash drawer last night and found this sad sight:

I always had a special fondness for this pair of shoes, because Sunny bought them new at the thrift store for $2.99 and found out later that they were fancy Italian flats by a designer called Thierry Raboutin, flats which usually sell for $400 dollars!

Originally the shoes were grey, but Sunny got tired of that color and used my fabric paints to paint them iridescent green. When the green paint started wearing out, she repainted them this odd purple. She wore them everywhere.

Then disaster struck — one of the shoes had a heel fall off. It took a while to figure out what the odd puck-shaped thing lying on the living room floor was. Eventually we made the connection. There was an active debate about whether the heel could be reglued.

A few weeks later, I found this in the kitchen wastebasket.

I liked these shoes because they expressed everything I love about thrift shopping, altering your possessions in oddball ways, and wearing things until they drop.

So long, funky shoe. I’ll miss you.

Here’s Marcus, curled up on a little bit of Basketball Girl’s comforter cover that sagged off the edge of the couch. He is a most resourceful sleeper.

Basketball Girl and I were on our way to school the other day when we looked across the San Francisco Bay and saw the tall buildings of downtown San Francisco rising out of a white blanket of fog. I pulled over to take these photos. It was one of those moments when I really wished I had a better camera.

Basketball Girl:  ”Mom, when I think of you in the future, I’m going to remember you pointing at things. Like, ‘You missed a spot right there!’”

Yesterday, my phone rang four times:

• While I was at the gynecologist’s office, getting a pap smear.
• While I was in a family therapy session.
• While I was driving on the freeway.
• While I was asleep.

The phone conspicuously DIDN’T ring at any time when I was actually available and willing to take a phone call. This happens over and over. In fact, I find that the best way to make sure I get a phone call is to go in the bathroom and lock the door. Am I just paranoid, or is my cell phone out to get me?

One girl is quirky; the other one is trendy.

One loves books; the other one loves movies.

One hates to spend money; the other one loves spending every penny she has.

One’s hair is naturally blond but currently dyed black; the other’s is naturally brown, but currently dyed blond.

One is freakishly fond of My Little Pony; the other is freakishly fond of The Vampire Diaries.

One hates sports; the other one plays on the volleyball team.

One won’t eat sugar; the other one won’t eat fruit.

One is always getting lost; the other one always knows where she is.

What do they have in common? Not much, on the outside.

But they both have generous hearts, and they are both very precious to me.