Robert Pence

Excellent shots!

What a beauty that could be, properly restored.

Pretty interesting. It covers the whole range from charm to grit.

But... But... where ever did you find a designer-label shop apron? :? The only ones I could get were plain dark blue denim. :roll: Nevertheless, they were one hundred per cent cotton.

Yes. Even with a DSLR, the tripod makes a big difference. It lets you use a slower shutter speed without motion blur. That means you can avoid using high ISO settings that result in noise (grainy appearance).

West Central Snow Day Feb 26, 2008 Tuesday, February 26, 2008 - When I looked outside this morning, the trees were heavily coated with fresh white snow and snow was still falling. It's the most beautiful snowfall we've had in quite some time. The weather forecast called for winds to pick up later in the morning, and I decided to grab my camera and get some photos before everything blew away. I spent about an hour and a half, all within a few blocks of my house. Just about the time my hands couldn't take any more, my camera battery ran out and then I got bombed by big clumps of snow as a sudden breeze shook the trees. My shack Winter garden The only row houses I know of in Fort Wayne. I lived in an apartment here forty years ago. If my information is correct, this house was built about 1911 by the Latz family, owners of Wolf & Dessauer Department Store, and converted to apartments around 1937. Castle Gallery Renovation in progress. This place had gotten in pretty rough shape; it had had two fires that I know of. One was started by a tenant cleaning motorcycle parts in his kitchen sink, using gasoline. It's looking really nice, so far. The three houses at the west end of this block were all moved here at different times to prevent their being razed to create parking lots. Prior to the first house being moved here, this was a parking lot, and prior to that a large Italianate brick home stood here. It was razed some time in the 1960s. I had an efficiency apartment at Sheridan Court Apartments in 1960.

That's a pretty splendid view.

I went for a walk in the neighborhood this morning:

Beautiful photos. That became one of my Dad's favorite places after my parents retired to Florida. When we went there during one of my visits, I could understand why he loved it so much.

nevermind. I changed what's left of my mind about what I was going to post. I should go to bed now. :roll:

Not necessarily so. They just wait until it's dark out and the church supply store is closed.

Not at all, my dear. As one reaches "a certain age" one must adapt. I leave the menial tasks to others. Besides, the cops can carry weapons legally. Call it outsourcing.

When visiting Dayton, don't miss the Art Institute. I think it's one of the best in this part of the country, especially for a city Dayton's size. Exhibit space, exhibits, building exterior and setting are all first-rate, and from there you get a good overview of the river and the downtown.

There's a audacious professional panhandler who's been working Fort Wayne for at least ten years, and he turns up everywhere. He's a decently-dressed and -groomed black man about 40 who's really smooth and has a variety of plausible-sounding hard-luck stories, some involving car breakdowns. He apparently doesn't have a memory for faces, though. He's approached me several times and on other occasions has approached other people in my presence. One Sunday as I was walking home from church, he came up to me on a street near my house and told me a story about needing to get home to Cleveland and his car ran out of gas and he didn't have any money. I actually gave him money that time, but that was the only time. That night I was sitting with a friend in a neighborhood tavern and he came up to my friend and said, "Hey, man! I recognize you. Where did you go to school?" My friend being naive and gullible started to take the bait. I motioned for the bartender, who threw the panhandler out. He yelled "Snitch!" at me as he left. Before they secured the office building where I worked, he approached me for a handout in the first floor corridor outside the cafeteria one day. I just called the security guard, whose desk was about thirty feet away. Last fall one day he was going door-to-door in my neighborhood; maybe he lives nearby. Since then, I've seen him working the customers inside fast-food restaurants, the post office parking lot ("Sir, could you do me a Christian favor?") and on various downtown streets. Last Saturday night I was in Borders and saw him hitting up various teenage customers. I pointed him out to the store manager. Some time later when I left, he was waiting in the parking lot. I managed to get to my car and get out before he could get to me, but he was yelling "F*ck You! I'm gonna' beat your ass! Before, I considered him a nuisance; now that I know he's dangerous, the next time I see him I'll call the police. I'd like to get a photo and circulate it via a couple of local blogs, but I won't put myself at risk to do it.

Do his/her job responsibilities involve access to funds? :police:

An awe-inspiring place, and gorgeous in spring when the cherry trees bloom.

This from the viewpoint of an older midwestern gay man; I'm not even talking about the guys who use internet personals in a quest for revolving-door hookups. If that's your thing, go for it. I've aged out of my slut period. I've browsed lots of internet personal ads but I've never responded to any; I get the sense that they're not that much different from the personal ads that more commonly appeared in magazines and newspapers in the past, and my experience with forays into that world when I was younger didn't provide me with much incentive to keep coming back. I think that a lot of times, personal ads are the last refuge of the desperately lonely. The people who have their sh1t together are out doing creative, productive, interesting things and meeting people in the process. People who run personal ads claiming to seek "that special someone" often are looking for Mr. Right to step in and transform their sucky lives into eternal ecstatic joy. Once you're snared, fail to meet their expectations and you'll be denounced for disappointing them. Getting too close to them is like a marginal swimmer trying to save a drowning person; they'll grab onto you and suffocate you and drag you down with them. Not everyone is cut out for close relationships; most of all I've enjoyed some long-term affairs. The most recent one lasted almost 20 years, although it seems to have gone dormant lately. I'm not afraid of commitment. It's just that commitment doesn't mean signing over ownership of my soul, and thus far I haven't met up with anyone who shares that understanding and finds me desirable. I'm not going to put my life on hold while I search for a boyfriend. Instead, I'll just go on spending hours on urban forums. :roll:

Wonderful photo! That's a family-album keeper for posterity.

I knew a trucking company manager who had driver who ran a conflict-resolution practice on the side. I'm pretty sure he limited his practice to attitude adjustments, though.

Neat. Sandalwood park has some pretty nifty houses; that last one calls to me.

Sports? Me? Girfriend, you want I should break a nail? :-o I was always sports-challenged, with terrible eye-hand coordination, and my ineptitude was a source of constant humiliation because I attended a country grade school where participation was mandatory, and then a small-town high school where any boy who wasn't an athlete didn't exist. The only thing I was ever moderately successful at was fights, and that was mostly the element of suprise because nobody expected a skinny little nerd to actually throw a punch, or that it would hurt so bad. That was something my dad taught me early on because I was a bully magnet and was always getting pushed around. He discontinued the lessons the night I gave him a bloody nose. The last time I ever mixed it up in high school was my sophomore year with a guy who wouldn't quit getting in my face. Finally one afternoon between classes I'd had enough and I went for it. I had him by the throat with my left hand, bent backward over a desk and was about to administer the coup de grace with my right when a teacher intervened. Eventually, the guy and I became close friends. :? I'm too old to do that sh!t now. That's why I've decided to adopt a sweet and innocent persona, and charm my way out of hostile situations.

I haven't been in New Orleans since 1991, but on that visit I played hooky from seminars on the last day of my visit and took a streetcar ride on the St. Charles line. It appeared to be a well-used, utilitarian line; during morning rush hour I could see a car ahead of and a car behind the one I was riding, and two on the opposing track. The car wasn't standing-room-only, but it was fairly well filled with local people boarding inbound and heading downtown to work. The old Perley-Thomas cars aren't fast, maybe 10-15mph, but they're big and hold a lot of people and move quietly and smoothly down the broad grassy median with little disruption to the surrounding residential areas. A streetcar may not be as fast as a private auto, but if you consider the time needed to find a parking spot that may not be as close to your destination as the streetcar stop is, and the cost of parking, a lot of times the comparison comes out in favor of the streetcar.

Good stuff! This one makes my heart go pitty-pat; I love the entry and tall first-storey windows.

You just like Urbana because of the Party Girls! :lol:

Nice shots and interesting neighborhood. Nice kitty. :-)