Saturday, February 24, 2024

"Fire Prevention Week!"



Smokey would be pleased!

 Good Sunday Morning, y'all.


I hope no one minds me reminiscing the GD days. Some of these I've thrown out and some, once again, has made the cut... or made me smile. This is one of them.

After my experience with the tech group, the graphics department thought it best for me to chill out... Or, that's my opinion of what went down!

I was pretty much handed lots of ads for in-house events. If I was gonna screw up again, it wouldn't be on a national level. One of those was the Fire Prevention Week promo. I don't recall who designed the previous one a year before, but I'm sure it was most forgettable.


I presented the boss a few ideas, but leaned heavily on the one with the burned hard hat. Seems the sticking point for approving the idea was acquiring an actual hard hat to destroy, so I told them that I'd use my own. I actually had a hard hat from my days with the oil companies from Louisiana.

You couldn't walk on any property without one... even artists had to wear one to sketch and photograph subject matter. I did ask one friend who worked at the plant if I could use his helmet and he was delighted to give it up for "um" science and set it on fire!

I guess he wanted an excuse to get a new.

But, in the end, I decided to torch my "oil and gas chapeaux".

Strangely enough, I don't remember anyone inquiring about where I was gonna do the deal. The entire scene was created in our driveway on our cheapo tin barbecue pit full of charcoal briquettes... even burned a piece of 2x4 for effect.

Back in those days, I did not own a 35mm camera, to I asked Mitch, the same photographer I worked with on"TheCountdown" if he could help me out. I think he enjoyed working me on my strange projects.

So, one day after work, I spread out all my burned debris on the factory floor, and Mitch shot a roll or two. Mitch was a big time smoker and made the suggestion of smoke from a few lit ciggies.

In one of the comps, I illustrated a water soaked floor, but we both felt that what we shot should suffice quite well. It would have been nice to have the poster printed in color, but the budget wouldn't allow it. The red headline was as good as we could expect.

It didn't win any awards, but I assume Smokey was pleased. More on that awards thing later down the GD line!

Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

Tuesday, January 30, 2024

" I Know, I Know, It All Is Completely Baseless!"

It's based in truth...

 Good "wacky" Wednesday Morning, y'all.


Well, here I sit, directly across from the bathroom wall wondering if, indeed, I have to once again, clean the baseboards from the lint, hair, and dust.

I know, I know, you laugh, but in most homes where carpet floors meet the walls, there is some kind of baseboard moulding. Some are quite simple and some are quite "fancy-dancy!"

The "fancy-dancy" ones are the hardest to keep clean.

In most of the house, carpets can hide the overall hairiness and dust making it easier to clean when one vacuums, but not so in the bathrooms. That's where most floors are covered with linoleum which easily show their dismay and lack of attention.

And, the tiny spiders love that!

I notice these things because I do more than just read my constitutional rights three or four times a day. I sit and stare, directly across from the wall and the baseboard, and sometimes think about a good friend who has since passed away.

He was a big, burly Irishman that I knew from high school. In our football days, he was fast, and slim and powerful and could easily take on two offensive tackles, throw them aside and make the tackle. He made me look good at the linebacker position. That was then...

Divorced, a bit overweight, and still Irish, and in his sixties, he was preparing to retire in a year or two. As far back as I can remember, he and another employee at the electric company, carpooled to work into New Orleans. Though they spent most of their time working away from each other on the road, much of their after work hours were spent with friends at bars and restaurants.

But, his good work buddy had another life... he was married, and quite happily so.

On the weekends, when Pat, the high school buddy, had no plans, no date and got lonely, he always tried to recruit Cliff to join him in some form of frolic, or another. But Cliff, the family man, better known to most as "Weenie", a moniker given to him by Pat, would on occasion, graciously join us all at the local restaurant for breakfast and then, try to excuse his way back home.

Some of those excuses, as one would guess were pretty lame, but the one that always brings chuckle to my heart was Pat grilling poor Weenie..."C'mon man, what'cha gonna do, give me that excuse about cleaning your baseboards again?"

Oh, that Pat. He certainly had an effect on everyone, including me. Every now and then, I find I have to give them boards a second look!

Coffee and then, another doctor's appointment!

Copyright 2024/ Ben Bensen III

Tuesday, January 23, 2024

"No, Not That Kinda Hey... HAY!"


 

Good "Monday Again" Monday Morning, all bodies!

See, you have to understand some people here in Folsom come from a different stock with their own special priorities. For example, we are in the middle of a highly sophisticated topic about automobile oil filter sumps when a friend's eyes set long and hard on a pickup truck that passed by the window of the coffeehouse.

"With her eyes all a twitter, she jumps up out of her chair and yells, "Hay!"

Now, being a city boy who is still trying to find my place in this here town, I answer,"WHAT?"

"No, Barbara says as she points to the window. Not that kinda hey... HAY!"

Her enthusiasm puts a halt to the conversation as everyone watches her run to the window.

"It's hay... two bundles of the good kind of hay sitting in the back of that truck. I wonder where he got it,” she asked hoping that the owner was gonna stop by for a cup of coffee.

Unfortunately, he did not making a right turn at the corner and off into the distance.

With a giggle, I asked her, "Do you always get so worked up about... um, HAY?"

"I do when it's the good brand of hay. You can't get that kind of quality here in Louisiana."

As she continued to explain the differences in hay to anyone who'd listen, I couldn't help but be impressed by Barbara's ability to see and discern one brand of hay from another, and even from the back of a pickup just passing through. Gotta love it though!

  • Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

Friday, November 24, 2023

"I Thought, Is It Too Early To Thank Old Saint Nick?"

 

 

Good Thanksgiving Thursday Morning, all bodies.

In the afternoon two days before today, I walked into Folsom's "The Donut Stop" to assure myself that there would be enough chocolate covered Bavarian creme donuts and apple fritters. The young woman at the counter, let's just call her Darcy, assured me that there would be but that they'd be closing at 1pm the day before Thanksgiving.
She asked me if I wanted to to secure my order and I told her that I didn't think that that would be necessary though in the back of my mind, I knew better. The Donut Stop's apple fritters are legendary.
Well, I should have placed an order, and then again, Darcy might have mistook my indecision and did it anyway!
It's been our Macy's Morning tradition even in California, to order danish and bearclaws and serve it with a big bowl of fruit. I can't find bearclaws that I like on the Northshore, so apple fritters fill the void... So to speak!
So yesterday around 10am, I saunter into the bakery to find no apple fritters on the shelf, or in the back, baking..AACK!
The woman who knows me from my frequent visits over the years, apologized and said that they were holding in a box, two apple fritters and two chocolate covered Bavarian creme donuts for pickup sometime today... for someone!
"Aw jeez, my wife told me that I should've placed an order," I said.
Therese who was with me was a bit disinterested because she spotted on the shelf plenty of chocolate covered Bavarian creme donuts.
So the manager, sporting a camo baseball cap, and wearing a long black apron that covered his camouflaged ensemble, seemed to be biding his time till 1pm. He came to the counter to see what was the problem.
After telling my tale hoping that Darcy mistook my non-order as an actual order, I awaited the manager's decision. The older woman told the manager that they were saving the order, but that there was no name written on the order.
I could tell by the sympathetic look on her face that she was pleading the case in defense of the entire staff as well as my traditional Macy's parade need.
The manager put his large hands across his salt and pepper gray beard and scrubbed it in thought.
"So, we don't know who actually made the order," right?
The older woman handling the drive up window, nodded.
"And it is the exact same order this man is looking for, right?"
"That's right," she said.
I could tell as he continued rubbing his beard that he was thinking about that "bird in an hand" stuff...
"Well then, let these folks have it!"
"That'll be $ 8.53 with tax," he said, confident in the finality of his decision.
I thought, is it too early to thank Old Saint Nick?
First home brewed with fritters!
Oh yeh, c... y'all.

Copyright 2023/Ben Bensen III

 

Wednesday, November 15, 2023

."Belton, the belted kingfisher.".

The Little Opportunist!

 Good "late Wednesday Morning," everyone!

We drove into Merrywood a few evenings ago, and circled the bird sanctuary to notice white things on the lake. Slowing down, I noticed that those white things were egrets, ibis, herons and other shore birds feasting on the slowly drying up lake... It's pretty sad. I don't think Louisiana has ever had a drought as long, hot and intense as the one we've been experiencing in the last three or four months or more.

Bird Sanctuary Pond

We get all kinds of the feathered visitors according to the seasons, but one that seems to endure the changes is our clownish resident, the belted kingfisher and his babe. Most of the times, one finds it hard to locate them around the many ponds and the sanctuary lake, but you sure can hear their noisy "rattle" that seems to express their disgust with being disturbed.
Perched high up on a very flexible branch with a coififure that is straight out of a punk rock group, the kingfisher overlooks the lake, bounces and awaits the right moment dive bomb the lake for a scaly tidbit. We sat quietly in the car for about twenty minutes to checkout the action.
We were both laughing in disbelief when we saw the "belted one" dive down and actually snatch a fish right out an ibis's mouth and take it to the treetops on the other side of the lake.
Little stinker!

A sketch inspired by the antics of the clownish freshwater fisherman. Maybe tomorrow, I clean it up and add some digital color!


A few adjustments were made!

I'm pretty happy with the outcome so, I think I'll give the bird a name. The name "Belton." seems appropriate and kinda Cajun though not as popular as Boudreaux or Benoit!
I'm okay with that...Belton, the belted kingfisher... ha!

Copyright 2023/ Ben Bensen III

Wednesday, September 27, 2023

" Don't Look At Me,"

 

"Don't Do Like They Used To!"

Good " Don't Look At Me," Sunday Morning, all bodies.
Last night, after that LSU debacle, we settled in on a baseball game. I sensed that Tee didn't want me to return to the studio after dinner. All through the baseball game, our dawg was stalking Therese's left over potatoes.
He was told, way too many times, to go sit, but his "MO" is to wait a few minutes and jump off the sofa pretending to be thirsty. He'll take a perfunctory sip at his water bowl and then, as if no one is watching, plop himself at Tee's feet just under the table that holds the potatoes. I casually point to the sofa and he acquiesces, but five minutes later, he's thirsty again.
It reminded me of the game I played pitting wits between my mother and Pierre.
"Mom, don't feed the dawg," I'd say.
"I'm not!"
Naturally, the discussion has to end there otherwise we'd have a yell fest, which wouldn't help anyone's digestion! Even though mom knows I know she does feed the mutt, she tells me she doesn't. Pierre circles the table like a shark waiting for his chance to attack.
"Pierre, go away," I'd yell.
He uses his patented "thirsty pup routine" and then, moves in for the umpteenth time. In the corner of my eye, I see my mother lean over to stealthily drop the dog another tidbit, saying...
"Don't look at me, Murgatroyd! Benny told me not to feed you!
Mom always referred to that moniker with disdain, or when she couldn't remember a person's name.
Ah... such memories!
Finally, after the ballgame is over, Therese gets up and returns her plate, with the uneaten potatoes, to the kitchen counter. Taking his chances that I'll yell at him again, he slips off the sofa and follows Therese's every step. Then, he puts on the cocker spaniel charm and looks up to her longingly.
From across the room, Tee looks at me with a smirk and says to the dawg...
"Don't look at me, Pierre, Benny told me not to feed you!"
First cup...

Copyright 2023/Ben Bensen III

Friday, September 22, 2023

"Thud... and a "Cold Cocked Cardinal Is On Its Back!"

An attempted heart shaped couple.

 Good Saturday Morning, y'all.


St. Louis is jogging my memory a bit. It reminds me of a failed attempt to capture a cardinal adventure that happened months ago. There was a thud against the breakfast nook window unlike the familiar thump I occasionally hear around the early spring when fledgling birds try to test their independence only to bounce off the screened windows.

But this was a distinct THUD!

So, I left the kitchen and walked out near the bird bath to find a "cold cocked" cardinal on its back with its feet straight up in the air. I took a look at the bird's eye to notice it was not sunken in, which is a sign that blood is running through the cardinal's head.

I had a large wooden spoon with me and gave the bird a slight poke... There was no movement, so I waited.

I went back into the kitchen to check on the soup I was making, and wait a bit. About five minutes passed before I went back out to see if the bird left, but it was still belly up. I gave it another poke and attempted to flip it over on its chest and it gave me a rather aggravated screech like I had awakened it from a good dream.

I gave it one convincing poke under the wings and he flapped his wings and complained again... but, I bit louder. I went back inside to check on the soup and to give the bird another five minutes to compose itself. Finally, the colorful male took one look at me, freaked out and dizzily fluttered a few feet unto a branch of our maple tree. The whole process of shaken out the cobwebs and making it to the tree took all of about a half an hour.

But, strangest thing is seeing the female cardinal meet him as he entered the azalea bush a few feet away. She obviously was concerned, but decided to wait and see what transpired for she was nowhere to be found as I attempted to awaken her "beau."

A minute or so later, they both took off for the safety of the tree line probably to continue feeding their brood. Blue skies...


Copyright 2023/Ben Bensen III