Futility Now

We went to the coast the weekend before last.

That G is for Girabaldi, the name of the town.

I took these on my was to get comics on Valentine’s day.

Hilariously old-school signs for an upcoming event.

I guess they worked, because after seeing them, Hazel wants us to attend.

These are next to the roadways on Mount Tabor

Here is a mysterious aperture in a nearby convent (or something.)

Here’s Hazel shutting it so all the Jesus doesn’t leak out.

So the Sunday before this one that I’m writing on, the super-cool Portland Garment Factory held a flea market at their store around the corner. Whilst we were wandering around we noticed a massive old factory punch clock, and Hazel decided that we needed to have it.

The proprietress said that she’d bought it for the store in order to create an industrial feel, but nobody had ever managed to figure out how to make the damn thing work. We took it home and Hazel found a manual for it on the manufacturer’s web site. As she read out loud I flipped the clock face up to expose its works and set the time.

I managed to get it working at some expense to my thumbs (if you look, you can see that the bottom stamps are from before I set the clock, whereas the top stamp shows the proper date.)

And here it is as part of a charming domestic tableau.