DIGITAL PHOTO RETOUCHING SERVICES

"The Makeover"

(©2001, C.J. Peiffer)

Digital Photo Retouching

Payments accepted through PayPal

THESE ARE JUST A FEW OF THE MANY SERVICES WE CAN PROVIDE TO IMPROVE YOUR PHOTOGRAPHIC IMAGES

cropping - resizing

lighten, darken or add contrast

color correction or brighten colors

remove blemishes, flaws, stray hairs, spots, lint - even skin tone

add spots of color to black and white photos

change from color to black and white

change from color or black and white to sepia

tint a black and white image with cheek or lip color

change to a monochromatic image (shades of blue, for example)

remove glare from eyeglasses - enhance smile

correct "red eye" - open closed eyes

soften wrinkles, lines, dark circles - lighten or darken hair

change or remove background

change a photo into a pen and ink drawing, a work of pop-art, or other artistic image

in a group photo, replace a face with one from a different photo

if one person is missing from a group photo, it may be possible to add him/her from a different photo

touch up, repair tears, discoloring, or missing pieces of antique photos

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PLEASE DO NOT SEND COPYRIGHTED PHOTOGRAPHS

(such as those taken by a professional photo studio unless they are at least 75 years old.)

THE PHOTOS SHOULD BE YOUR OWN OR THOSE TAKEN BY A FAMILY MEMBER OR FRIEND AND USED WITH THE PHOTOGRAPHER'S PERMISSION.

We do not accept professional-looking photographs.

Pro Artz does not accept any nude or pornographic images nor "suggestive" images of minors.

Pro Artz respects your privacy, however we may be obliged to release private information if you send photos that depict illegal activity, including (but not limited to) child pornography, terrorism, hate crimes, abuse, violence, or drug usage.

****** By placing an order, you are certifying that you own the copyright or have the permission of the copyright holder to modify the photo(s) you send. ******

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To take advantage of the Pro Artz digital photo retouching services, follow these steps:

1. Use the comment section of this post to write a comment.

    It should begin with "DO NOT POST" ---I monitor all comments and will not post it for others to see.

    Include your name and email address and tell me what you would like done to your photo.

    I will reply via email. You will then have my email address.

2. Scan your photo(s) or send a digital file from your camera

300 ppi (pixels per inch) preferred

3. Attach photo(s) to an email message with "Photo Retouch" in the subject line. Send it the email from which I sent you a message.

maximum attachment size per email 25 mb (you may send any number of photos as long as the total does not exceed 25 mb in one message)

if you are sending several photos, you may have to send them in separate email messages if the total exceeds the 25 mb limit

NOTE: your own email server may have a smaller mb limit for sending/receiving attachments. If your limit is smaller than the size of your attachment, choose one of these options:

1) Best choice: go to www.gmail.com to set up a gmail account (it takes only a few minutes) that will allow attachments up to 25 mb

2) Another option: reduce the dimensions of the photo and/or reduce the dpi to 200

4. In your email message, explain, in detail, what you want to have done to the photo.

5. Pro Artz will reply to your email with an estimate of the cost of services based on the time it may take to complete the job.

Standard pricing:

$12 minimum for up to 30 minutes

$3 for each additional 15 minutes

(Currently our pricing goes to 2 hours and 45 minutes; if you have a large order or very difficult problem, we can add another pricing button for higher costs.)

If the cost will run over the estimate by more than $3, we will email you for approval. We usually estimate a little high in case we run into unforeseen problems. The final bill may be less than the estimate and never more than $3.00 more unless we have contacted you.

Because everything is done by email, there are no shipping charges and services can be provided to anyone in the world who has a valid email address and a PayPal account.

Save by sending more than one photo at a time.

We found no other photo retouching service which will reduce prices in this way.

Example: If you send two photos a month apart, and it takes 1 hour to retouch each, the cost will total $36 for two 1-hour jobs. If you send both with the same order or on the same day, we will charge you for one 2-hour job which will be a total of $30.
         If you have very simple jobs, for example five photos that simply need a few tweaks, send them on the same day.  Instead of charging a minimum of $12 for one photo for up to 30 minutes, it is possible it will take only 30 minutes to complete all five.

6. You will have 15 days to agree to accept our estimate.

If you do not accept the estimate, we will delete your photo scan(s) after 15 days. Keep a copy for yourself in case you want to resubmit it later.

7. Unless we inform you otherwise, you should expect your photo to be retouched within 10 days of your acceptance of the estimate, usually much faster. Ask about additional costs for rush orders.

8. When the retouching is complete, we will attach the retouched photo(s) to an email. Each retouched photo will have a Pro Artz "watermark" on it until payment is received.

If you are satisfied, go to step #9.

If not, reply to the email with additional requests to improve the photo.

9. PAYMENT - Once you are satisfied with the retouched photo, come back to this post to make your payment by clicking on the pulldown box at the bottom of this post and choosing the appropriate payment amount. Then click BUY NOW.

Once the payment is received, we will email the retouched photo(s) without the Pro Artz watermark. Unlike some other companies, we do not retain the copyright on the retouched image. The emailed file will be yours and you may print as many copies as you wish. You may give copies of the file to friends or relatives, too.
      If you wish to have more work done on it, it is your responsibility to save the file (preferably in at least 2 places, for example, on your hard drive, and on a DVD and/or on a flash drive.)

9. QUESTIONS?

1) If the question is of a general nature, leave a comment for everyone to see.

2) If the question is specific to a particular photographic problem or a specific order, leave a comment that begins with "DO NOT PUBLISH." 

Please be advised that it may take several days to get back to you because occasionally, we are away from our computer for a few days at a time. Once a year, usually (but not always) in August or September we are on vacation for 2-4 weeks and although we may have internet access, we prefer not to be tied to our computers while on vacation.

(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)

Digital Photo Retouching

Minimum 30 min. $12.00 45 min. $15.00 1 hr. $18.00 1 hr. 15 min. $21.00 1 hr. 30 min. $24.00 1 hr. 45 min. $27.00 2 hr. $30.00 2 hr. 15 min. $33.00 2 hr. 30 min. $36.00 2 hr. 45 min. $39.00

THE ROOF OF THE WORLD - short fiction

This short story is in response to

RAVEN’S SATURDAY

WORDZZLE CHALLENGE

Click on the above link to join in or read other entries.

How it works: Raven supplies two sets of words (or phrases) to use in a piece of writing. One can choose the ten- or five-word challenge ---or combine both into a fifteen word mega-challenge.

Mega challenge:
Tibetan sky, symbols, won’t you come home Bill Baily, shadow figures, brain cortex, practice makes perfect, life, start of school, lavender, chow down, mental hospital, falling leaves, apple cider, packing crates, clues

(Words from the challenge are in bold face in the story.)

*** If you have trouble reading this post, see note at top of right sidebar. ***

The adventures of Matty and Clem continue.

It took Matty and Clem nearly a week to cover Clem’s living room with foil, but only a few days for the kitchen, bedroom and bath. The old saying, “practice makes perfect” kept looping through Matty’s head.
Thursday evening, after completing the foil, they emptied the packing crates that held Clem’s belongings. In one Matty found a dozen new lavender T-shirts. Matty surmised that lavender had to be Clem’s favorite color, but Clem admitted he had purchased the shirts at a flea market, twelve for five dollars. Lavender was the only color in his size.
One crate held ten hand-woven throw rugs featuring unusual designs and symbols. Another held a small statue of Buddha. In his high school yearbook he was listed as Clement Altan Gyatso, an unusual name, Matty thought. Beside his photo, it said that Clem had been voted the most likely to become the next Dalai Lama. Each find seemed to be a clue to Clem’s life, although he didn’t talk about himself much. But Matty couldn’t put the clues together.
As usual Clem cooked dinner. He made enchiladas with chicken, beans, rice, cheese, and homemade salsa. Matty couldn’t help but chow down the delicious meal, but as usual, Clem seemed indifferent to his dinner once he started to eat.
When he walked her to her door, Clem invited Matty to accompany him to the mental hospital the next morning. All she could think about was the horrible three days she had spent in one of those places when her mother tried to have her committed, but Clem convinced her that he would make sure they didn’t try to keep her there.

Friday morning, Clem arrived holding two knitted caps, each lined with foil. He also carried a small cooler and suggested they have lunch in the park after his appointment.
Afraid to enter the hospital, Matty decided to sit outside while Clem saw his doctor. Several patients wandered the grounds. One asked her if her name were Bill. She shook her head. The patient stared at her for a full minute, then said, “Won’t you come home Bill Baily?” over and over. Matty had no idea what he meant, but figured the man himself might not know either. She was glad she wasn’t crazy like he was. It was everyone else, all those people trying to steal her thoughts who were deranged.

The park was quiet. There were a few adults pushing toddlers in strollers, but with the start of school, no other children were present.
They sat at a picnic table on the top of a hill that made it seem to Matty like they were on the highest peak in the world. Falling leaves floated around them, their colors vibrant in the sun. After they ate ham sandwiches and pumpkin cookies Clem had prepared, Clem sat staring at the horizon sipping from a small bottle of apple cider. Matty thought he might be in his usual mealtime grump, but then he started to talk.
“It looks like a Tibetan sky, today,” he said.
Matty snickered. “Like you’d know what the sky looks like in Tibet,” she said.
“Tibet has the highest average elevation of all the countries in the world, over three miles high. Tibet is called ‘the roof of the world.’”
“How do you know stuff like that?” Matty asked.
“I was born there. My mother was an American mountain climber who explored the Himalayas and my father was a Sherpa who helped the climbers. My parents raised sheep. My grandmother spun the wool and made the rugs we unpacked last night. She sold most of them to tourists.”
Matty said nothing. She just stared at Clem wondering what other interesting things she would learn from him.
“Occasionally, my father would still go to the mountains. On one expedition, three people plunged into a ravine, including my father. So my mother, sisters and I moved back here to live with my mother’s parents.”
“I’m sorry about your dad,” Matty said. Clem continued to stare the sky.
A few minutes later Matty asked, “So what do you mean that it looks like a Tibetan sky ?” She nodded toward the horizon.
“I was only five when we left Tibet, so I don’t remember much. My grandparents, even my father, seem like shadow figures to me now. But I do remember the skies. We were so high up, that the clouds were always low, just above the horizon, never high above us like they are here.”
Matty saw that all the clouds were near the horizon that day. They sat in near silence until a cold wind kicked up.

About half way home, Clem said, “I saw my doctor about test results. I had a brain scan several weeks ago.”
“Oh, no.” Matty stopped walking. Ringing her hands nervously, she said, “They stole your thoughts, didn’t they?”
“The court ruled if I didn’t have the tests they’d commit me, so I had to let them do it. Dr. Wallace promised he would erase all my thoughts from the results and would return them to me before any government people could get hold of them.”
“And you believed him?” Matty asked shrilly. “Oh, Clem. Oh, no.”
“He proved to me that he did what he said he would. He asked me a dozen questions before the test and I still knew the answers afterward. So they couldn’t have taken my thoughts away, could they, if I could still think?”
Matty nodded. That made some sense.
“So, the tests show that I have a thick cerebral cortex.”
Matty looked puzzled.
“That’s the brain cortex, the part of the brain that controls memory, among other things. The doctor said that thickness usually indicates intelligence. My IQ tests were above 150. I asked if my cortex is thick enough, if it would be very difficult for the government to steal my memory, my thoughts. He says I shouldn’t have to wear a foil cap any more.” He took off his hat. “What do you think about that?”
“Please put your cap back on. See that woman walking toward us? She’s pretending to use her cell phone. She’s trying to send radio signals to our brains. I can tell because I feel a buzzing in my ear.”
Clem quickly replaced his hat. “The other thing they found was that I have, uh...” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and read, “Dysgeusia.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“Because of a zinc deficiency my sense of taste is distorted or decreased. That’s why I don’t enjoy eating. The doc gave me a prescription which he says should help.”

Finally they arrived at the apartment building. It had been the longest Matty had been outside at one time for years and suddenly, she felt exhausted. She was glad to get home to her cat, who had managed to remove his aluminum helmet. Matty tied it under his chin again and crawled into bed for a nap, but she couldn’t sleep.

Matty worried that if Clem no longer needed to wear a foil cap, he might not want to hang out with her anymore. Or if he removed the foil in his apartment, she wouldn’t be able to visit him anymore. Or what if he stopped wearing his helmet and then his memory was stolen? He would no longer be Clem. And he might stop working on his brain-wave blocking machine.
Matty finally decided no matter how frightening it was for her, Clem was a very smart man and he would make the right decisions. But she was still worried sick about him.

(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)

HAUT CUISINE - Friday Flash 55

This post is in response to

FRIDAY FLASH 55

The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words.

Click on the yellow link above to join the fun or read others’ stories.

“This is so good," Danny said, slurping a piece of spaghetti between his teeth, red sauce dripping down his chin.

“Haven’t you ever eaten spaghetti before?” his friend’s mom asked, handing him a napkin.

“Not like this,” Danny answered. “My mom just pours a can of tomato soup over macaroni.”

“Mama mia,” sighed Mrs. Martinelli.

(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)

FOILED AGAIN - short fiction

This short story is in response to

RAVEN’S SATURDAY

WORDZZLE CHALLENGE

Click on the above link to join in or read other entries.

How it works: Raven supplies two sets of words (or phrases) to use in a piece of writing. One can choose the ten- or five-word challenge ---or combine both into a fifteen word mega-challenge.

Mega challenge:
dangerous, engine, sullenly, bespoke, evergreen, bauble, medicine, freight, destined, tinsel, carbon, feelers, outright, ballet, fizzing

(Words from the challenge are in bold face in the story.)

* * * * *

You’ve met Matty and her new neighbor Clem in a previous post, “Foiling Her Adversaries.” The following continues their story.

With his three-day growth of beard, her new neighbor Clem was a little scruffy looking. Matty knew if he were famous and on TV it would be called ‘designer stubble.’ On Clem, it just looked like he didn’t take care of himself.
But Matty could excuse his looks, because Clem understood her so well. He knew the FBI and CIA were trying to steal her thoughts ---and his, too. He told her he had been prescribed medicine to keep his so-called delusions at bay, but he knew the pills would just make him let his guard down, so he didn’t take them.
Clem was convinced that he was destined to invent in impenitrable brain-wave blocker. He stole engine pieces and other auto parts from the garage where he worked, hoping they might be useful.
Matty and Clem had spent their evenings, for over a week, applying aluminum foil to Clem’s apartment walls and windows. While he was on a ladder, Matty danced around him cutting the foil and handing him duct tape. They worked in perfect sync, almost like a choreographed ballet.
They discoveredd they were much alike. They were both afraid of the freight elevators in the building and had refused to use them when moving their furniture into their apartments. They loved the smell of evergreen and cleaned everything with Pinesol™. Neither of them could stand carbonated beverages, because the fizzing reminded them of radio static, which they knew was really the government listening in on them.
They knew Clem’s apartment would be dangerous until the aluminum was up, so they wore construction helmets lined with foil. Clem devised long antennae from coat hangers which he had covered in tinsel. He said they would work like feelers on a bug. Wearing them, he and Matty would be able to sense when someone was trying to steal their thoughts.
Clem was outright the best cook Matty had ever met. She only ate frozen dinners, canned spaghetti, and bags of munchies in her own apartment, but Clem cooked Cajun, Italian, and Chinese food each evening while she sat on the floor covering the lowest parts of the walls and the baseboards. Once he had everything cooking on the stove, they would work together until dinner was ready.
Clem liked to cook, but eating put him in a bad temper. Around nine o’clock, after they had worked for several hours, he sullenly ate what he had cooked while Matty delighted in every bite. Her plus-sized jeans were already feeling tight.
Clem’s indifferent eating habits bespoke the depression that would fall over him after dinner. Unable to talk him out of his gloom, Matty would leave for her own apartment. She worried about his lack of appetite. He was already extremely thin.
But the following evening, Clem would show up at Matty’s door bearing some bauble or other for her in apology for his sulky behavior the night before. Matty collected them in a shoe box she had covered with duct tape.
Clem had looped silver washers on a chain to make a necklace. He had twisted colorful plastic-coated wires together for a bracelet. He created two little metal helmets from welded scraps of aluminum for her cat, so that she didn’t always have to make foil ones that the cat could tear off with his claws.
But her very favorite gift from Clem was special. He had cut a slice of pipe, drilled holes on one side of the cylinder, filed off the rough edges, and polished the metal with emory cloth and steel wool. Then he superglued pebbles from a broken windshield’s safety glass into the holes. One fell out, but he had a tin can full of them, so he had more to glue into the ring if she needed them. It was better than a diamond ring, because diamonds would have attracted the government monitors. Glass didn’t block them, but it didn’t attract them either.
If Clem could make all of those beautiful things, Matty was convinced his brain-wave blocker would be a technological and financial success. And just having Clem in the apartment across the hall made her feel less vulnerable to the radio signals which had been scrambling her thoughts. And, besides, her cat looked so cute in his new helmets.

(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)

LANGUAGE BARRIER - Friday Flash 55

This post is in response to

FRIDAY FLASH 55

The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words.

Click on the yellow link above to join the fun or read others’ stories.

“Duas uvas fritas,” I said in my best Portuguese.
The waiter looked like he was holding back a laugh. Maybe he found my pronunciation amusing.
While eating my eggs, I perused my Brazilian phrase book.
My face turned red and hot. Although I received what I wanted for breakfast, I had ordered two fried grapes.

(a true story)

(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)

LIFE PURSUITS and FALLING FOR FALL

This post is in response to two writing prompts

at Mama’s Losin’ It

"If you could only focus on three things in life and pursue them fully, leaving everything else, what would they be and why?"

and

“Your Fall Favorites”

"AUTUMN LIGHT" ©2009, C.J. Peiffer

(Click on image for larger view.)

To see prints, cards, postage, and T-shirts featuring this image click HERE.

(Watermark does not appear on actual products.)

LIFE PURSUITS

If I could pursue only three things in life, they would be:

1. Creating art work

2. Writing

3. Reading

Why? Because they are the most fun and personally-rewarding things I do.

Note that all three would also include blogging, because ---in case you haven't noticed ---most of this blog's posts are either my art (including photography) and my writing ---and of course, I read other blogs.

I might never use up all the art supplies I already have and I create a lot of images on the computer. I write on the computer and usually submit writing via email. And I have stopped buying books. I always borrow them from the library. So, as an added bonus, my favorite pursuits are not free, but very close to being so.

FALLING FOR FALL

I don't like cold weather, but neither do I enjoy heat. My favorite weather is what I call "sweatshirt weather."

I love fall clothes in my favorite shades ---a soft brown pullover, golden tan corduroy slacks, a cozy light-brown sweater with a colorful leaf design, heavy socks and taupe suede boots.

As an artist, I love the fall colors of nature, golden dried stalks of corn and yellow and red autumn leaves. I snap lots of photos so I can create drawings or paintings from them. (See image above.) We live just beyond the suburbs surrounded by farm land and wooded areas. The countryside will be beautiful around the third week of October.

I like autumn much better than I used to, now that I am retired from teaching. It wasn't so much the going back to school that I hated, but it was that I would be losing my freedom to spend lazy afternoons reading in my hammock and that all the things I had planned to do over the summer hadn't been completed ---probably due to those lazy afternoons in a hammock.

Now retired, on autumn days I can look forward to curling up with a good book and a cup of tea on the porch, if weather permits, or in a comfy spot in the house with a cat on my lap.

But there are also things that I don't like about fall. I would be happy if I never saw nor heard anything about football ever again. I miss the birds that gathered at our feeders all summer. Some still come, but most will be gone. I miss the bright flowers in our yard and the long daylight hours. I miss sleeping with the windows open. I know that cold weather is just around the corner, which will mean high heating bills, shoveling snow, driving on icy roads, and bone-chilling winds.

As soon as the crisp, colorful fall days disappear and turn into gray winter ones, I look forward to my other favorite season, spring, when everything will be green and bright and new again.

(©2009. C.J. Peiffer)

LAST RESORT - short fiction

This short story is in response to

RAVEN’S SATURDAY

WORDZZLE CHALLENGE

Click on the above link to join in or read other entries.

How it works: Raven supplies two sets of words (or phrases) to use in a piece of writing. One can choose the ten- or five-word challenge ---or combine both into a fifteen word mega-challenge.

Mega challenge:charitable, alligator, tribute, drunk, slave, preparation, carrots, mountainside, propeller, lark, chisel, worship, suicide, organic, plus

(Words from the challenge are in bold face in the story.)

Celia was tired of being a slave to her job and she was especially tired of Mr. Hollinger’s acting all ethical, then taking credit for her work and especially for her ideas. He was always quoting the Bible, then stabbing his staff in the back.

From the time she was a teenager, Celia had given people secret names. She had nicknamed her boss Mr. Holier-than-Thou.

On a lark, Celia marched to the scheduling department late Friday afternoon to see if, by chance, she could take a week’s vacation starting Monday. There was one opening because ---of all people ---Holier had canceled his vacation for the coming week. Poetic justice, thought Celia.
She didn’t plan on informing Holier that she would be gone. As usual, he had already skipped out at 2:00 on Friday, so he wouldn’t know until Monday morning. That was when the regional director of ADvanced ADvertising was going to pay tribute to Holier-Than-Thou’s twenty-five years of service to the company with a ceremony and a plaque. Obviously, that was why Holier had canceled his vacation. Headquarters could chisel his name in stone for all Celia cared. Everyone else could worship him, but that wouldn’t elevate him in her esteem.
Her coworkers had collected money to buy him an alligator briefcase. Celia, not feeling in the least charitable toward the man, refused to contribute toward an item he would never use. Why would he? She did all his work, plus her own.
She was supposed to arrive at work early Monday in preparation for the presentation. Holier-Than-Thou expected her to explain to the manager how the last six months of advertising campaigns had been developed and executed. Holier had assigned her to do it for him because he didn’t have a clue how they came about. She would love to be a fly on the wall watching him try.
Taking vacation now might be corporate suicide, but in addition to her 401k, Celia had squirreled away a year’s worth of take-home pay. If she lost her job, her savings would see her through to her next one.
On Saturday morning, Celia left the city. At a roadside rest, she sat at a picnic table overlooking a mountainside, drinking bottled water and nibbling a sandwich and raw carrots from her cooler. She sucked in the organic scents of the early fall grass, trees, and mountain air, reprimanding herself for not getting away more often.
Celia followed signs to Pineynook Mountain Resort. There, she stepped into a steaming shower that pelted her with a dozen massaging shower heads. She dried her hair, added a touch of blush to her cheeks and gloss to her lips, and donned her casual denim dress. Admiring eyes followed her to a table in the restaurant.
Celia spent Saturday and most of Sunday reading novels, hiking, and swimming laps in the heated pool. The lake was too cold for swimming, but she enjoyed wading near the shore. Her stress was slowly seeping away.
On Sunday night, Celia accepted a drink from a handsome hunk of a New Yorker named Justin, then joined him for dinner on the portico overlooking the shimmering lake. After two martinis and several glasses of wine, Celia’s work-related problems poured out. After a few stressless days, she could actually laugh at herself and Justin laughed with her. He didn’t seem to mind listening to her woes. She wouldn’t tell him the name of her employer, but he asked many questions about the ad campaigns she had developed. He probably thought if he came off as a good listener, he could get her into his bed.
But after dinner and a platonic walk on the beach, Celia headed to her room alone. It was just as well, she thought. Justin hadn’t put her in the awkward position of having to refuse him and, besides, he was leaving Monday morning, so she’d never see him again. However, she was embarrassed that she had talked so much about herself. She hadn’t discovered enough about Justin to give him a nickname.

On Friday Celia rented a boat. She sped through the water as fast as the propeller would take her, hoping to outrun her problems. Instead, she decided she would assert herself, ask for a promotion, and demand the credit she deserved for her work. Holier would look so bad without her that he might agree. And if he didn’t, she would search for another job, do freelance work, or start her own business.
On Saturday morning before heading home, Celia grabbed her Blackberry from the dresser in her room. She hadn't turned it on in over a week. She checked her voicemail and e-mail over breakfast on the portico. Amongst the spam, there was an e-mail from corporate headquarters in New York. Uh, oh, she thought. Holier had probably fired her.
To her surprise, the message notified her that Holier was being transferred to another department. The next paragraph explained her promotion to Holier’s position including a bonus and a raise, effective immediately.
Celia was stunned. Then she looked at the sender’s name, Justin Angelou.
Could it be that he was the Justin she had met here? Unlikely, she thought.
Whether he was the same person or not, she had just chosen her secret name for ADvanced ADvertising’s CEO: Just-An-Angel.

(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD? Friday Flash 55

This post is in response to

FRIDAY FLASH 55

The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words.

Click on the yellow link above to join the fun or read others’ stories.

At the salon, Galina thought she looked great after having her tail feathers fluffed, but Capone, the insensitive rooster, told her she looked fat in her new do.

Galina ---a little hard of hearing ---crossed the road because she thought Bovina Cow had said, "The ass is always leaner on the other side of cements."

(You have my permission to groan now.)

(©2009, C.J. Peiffer)

SEEING PURPLE

(click on any photo for a larger view)

As my readers already know, I spent the first week of August at a Mark Twain Conference at Elmira College in NY. The conference was wonderful and the campus beautiful, but Elmira College has one strange quirk.

The school colors are gold and purple. There must be a full-time staff to paint everything in the college's particular shade of purple. At first it makes the place rather unique, but as you scroll through my photos, you may begin to think, as I did, that the school may be taking purple just a little too far.
The bathroom stalls are purple, and even the tiles on the floor and the lockers in the locker room. The soap dispensers are purple, and, yep, even the hand soap that is dispensed is ---you guessed it ---purple.








There are purple water fountains. Bottled water is labeled with Elmira College purple labels. One walks on purple carpeting. One eats on purple table cloths and uses purple napkins. Chairs are upholstered in purple. Even ashcans beside fireplaces are purple.

On campus buildings, doors, vents, flues, and other trim are purple.

Commemorative plaques on sidewalks are purple.





In the rooms where Twain scholars made their presentations, the AV carts are purple, the screens on which power-point presentations were made are purple (note actor Hal Holbrook in front of the screen), and even the foam pieces covering the microphones are purple. The lens on a slide projector is gold and purple, making even a black and white presentation rather colorful.

The flora around campus is gold and purple. The grounds crew drives purple carts, wears purple hats, and cuts grass with purple mowers.

Outside of the bookstore, there is a purple phone booth beside a purple waste basket. Inside, one can buy all manner of purple paraphernalia with the Elmira Logo, even bags of purple M&Ms.

We took a purple bus to a picnic at Quarry Farm (where Mark Twain spent his summers writing.) The tents set up for an evening reception near the auditorium and at Quarry Farm were gold and purple. The marker with information about Twain's study which now rests on the Elmira campus is ---as expected ---purple.

I asked one of the student helpers if she were sick of purple. She said after a while, one doesn't notice it much. She went on to mention that in the winter, the salt spread on sidewalks to melt ice is ---of course ---tinted purple.
The point at which I thought perhaps someone had gone overboard with the purple was at the site of the construction of a new dorm. The chain-link fence around the site is purple. The scaffolding is purple, and even the port-a-johns are ---yep ---purple.

I guess if a student survives four years of purple at every turn, s/he should be awarded a Purple Heart.