I had a vision of my grandma the other day, standing over the live-catfish-filled kitchen sink with a hammer in her hand.

A scent drifted through the open window that was oddly reminiscent of freshly caught fish on a warm summer day. Now, I’m pretty sure there were no freshly caught fish out in the street below, but you know, make of it what you will. Sometimes reminders catch you at odd moments, when you least expect it.

It’s ok to eat fish. Cause they don’t have any feelings.

Looks like she’s actually peeling potatoes but this is the same sink, same grandma. This is a still from one of my (her) Super-8 videos I had transferred to DVD last year. I seriously had the most Super-8 films transfer-er had ever seen  (over 100, so many I just can’t even remember right now). I didn’t even get them all done due to the cost… Yes, I have documented the (ok, my) 1970s in full. Any buyers?