In the beginning of the summer I started all these story series…my dream house, my love story, my sob story. No, I don’t think I’ve gotten to my sob story yet.
I just can’t seem to finish those stories right now. I’ve got too much going on and I can’t focus my thoughts in one direction.
Half my brain is getting things ready for school. The other half is trying to decide what else I can cook for dinner in one electric pan since my kitchen is still ripped out.
So you’re stuck viewing these morbid pictures. They are a creative attempt at customizing a CD jacket for some music FringeMan was working on a few years back.
They were killer songs.
You see. Even my attempts at humor are lame.
It’s obvious I’m no photographer, but this was a great cemetery.
…as far as cemetery’s go.
I don’t rank cemetery’s on a coolness scale or anything. I’m not that weird.
This just happened to be a popular place (among the living) near our home in Maine. They actually photographed many a wedding in this cemetery. I didn’t bother taking any pictures of the lovely gardens though. No, that would be too normal.
We stuck to the really cool stones.
Now aren’t you glad you decided to visit the Fringe today?
I’m sorry people. I really am. Let’s all hope and pray tomorrow’s post will be better.
Since I didn’t want to leave him sitting on a grave, I stuck him back in the pulpit for this last picture. FringeMan hates ties with the same passion he loves ice-cream. He only wears them if it’s absolutely necessary.
We visited a church one night last week because FringeMan was a guest preacher and after the service, the kids and I were left in the lobby to kill some time. The lights had already been turned off in the somewhat spooky sanctuary and FringeBoy stood at the doors, peered in, and said, “You know if a ghost showed up right now, it would be a Holy Ghost.”