One more day of work and I'm turkeybound. Haven't been up to see my wife's family in so long, some of them actually miss me. It's nice to be missed. It's even better when people will be offering up their secret family recipes to your tummy. Makes the journey all that much better, doesn't it?
I leave you with one more Thanksgiving thought ...
Sorry I've treated you so badly. You know, we met only a short time ago, and I felt like I've used you without giving you the proper thanks. I know I treated the others differently, photographing them often during various travels. Heck, taking a picture of them was often the first thing I'd do after bringing a new one home. You've been great, probably one of the best I've ever had. And so I hope you will forgive me.
The cool thing for the Petite Filet is that she has the entire week off for Thanksgiving. That means she was able to fly up with the Cutlet to her parents' house today. I have to work through Wednesday, and will head over to my parents' house before driving up to Oklahoma Thursday morning.
It's an inevitable symptom of their absence that the TV is on in the other room. I'm here on the computer, and iTunes is blaring some recent downloads. It is so awfully quiet and peaceful here in the house that I can barely stand it. If I ever did, I don't do alone very well anymore. The former me that thrived on freedom and being single was replaced at a church altar by someone who revels in sharing as much time possible with one other person. We joined together and about three years later off sprang the Cutlet, which means my addiction has spread to at least two people.
Used to think a dog was good for stirring up the dusty corners of our house, but the Cutlet is so much better at it. As I've written before, he is 100 percent wired for fun. I'm happy to report that attitude is rubbing off on me, even as I see him starting to mature and lose some of his headlong adventurousness.
So here I am, facing a shortened and frenetic workweek (early deadline for this week's paper will make it even more fun). I'll have the freedom to sleep a little later than usual the next few days, get up and maybe take a morning bike ride or stumble back into jogging. I can watch whatever I want on TV, listen to whatever I want as loudly as I like it. I can eat garbage and only have myself to blame. I can pass gas without excuse in any room that, uh, passes my fancy. I can leave dirty socks all over the living room. I won't have the sudden pang to head home before my workday is done because I crave the company of my family.
Gosh, I miss them so much already!
Where's the fire, chief?
Anyone with children might be able to relate to our problem. You see, as much as we'd like to let the Cutlet do nothing but frolic and play outside, build things with his blocks and draw beautiful sketches of rainbows and irritable monkeys, today's modern life dictates that he will watch the occasional children's video.
We limit his viewing to a few hours a day, and this is made easier by the fact that we have but one TV in the house. In a pinch, this very computer plays DVDs and has some pumpin' speakers to boot. Inevitably, the Cutlet gets some TV time. Worse for all of us, he usually gets a temporary favorite movie or video in his mind and wears it out until we all hate it.
Below are four lines from movies that have, at one time or another (including now), been a favorite of our son:
1. "I think you'll find a slight squeeze on the hooter to be an excellent safety precaution, Miss Scrumptious!" (This cracks me up every time I hear it.)
2. "With fronds like these, who needs anemones?"
3. "We won the Mr. Twisty's Twisted Cheese Curls Sweepstakes!"
4. "We all prisoners, chickie babie. We all locked in. Couple of weirdos, Guinevere."
If you guess the films these lines come from, you get no prize except my deepest sympathies. I cannot even offer you an oar, despite the fact that we're apparently in the same boat.
I had a recent discussion with a professional portrait photographer not too long ago about how the pure joy of taking pictures has very little to do with what kind of camera is used. She takes semi-candid, artfully posed photos, mostly of children, and she is finding gobs of success at having some of her images licensed. She uses a world-weary 35mm film camera, with a modest add-on flash and a modest zoom lens. The majority of her work is black and white.
Photography is like a lot of hobbies, in which many participants believe the latest and greatest camera will allow them to take better pictures. Now, part of that is true. A camera is a tool, and the proper tool for the job makes all the difference. For example, photographing sports requires a camera able to focus quickly and take bursts of images. At night, the camera needs a high flash sync speed to allow higher shutter speeds. In daylight and at night, a fast lens (large aperture) and appropriate combo of focal length/zooming capabilities is a must.
My first professional newspaper job required me to write and take photos. It was an old-school task, with a video display terminal (vintage late 1970s) and my grandmother's Olympus OM-1 (also from the late '70s) at the ready. We rolled our own b&w film into the small canisters, we developed the film, printed the prints and everything in between using caustic chemicals and a little luck. I later upgraded to a Canon Elan II 35 mm with a few nice lenses, but the process was the same. The joy of releasing the shutter (albeit not having to wind the film with my thumb), the pleasure of gently rocking a print in the developer and seeing it come to life, it remained the same. There's a little lost in the digital age (now I use a Canon digital and don't have a darkroom), but the taking of pictures itself is much the same. It's got little to do with the camera.
Before the Cutlet was born, we bought a small, cheap point-and-shoot digital. The camera basically sucks. Press the shutter and count to 10 before anything happens, so action shots are out. However, some of my favorite pics we've taken of the Cutlet were done so using that camera.
When it comes down to it, the person takes the photo using the camera. In my 10 or so years of newspaper experience, I've seen poor results with some pretty fancy equipment. It's about reaction time, having an artistic eye, enjoying the process and being in the right place at the right time. I think I took better pictures when the tool between my ears did most of the work. Using film meant I was also more careful about firing off the shutter for no reason.
Golf is a sport in which amateurs think they can buy their way to success. If their goal is fun, and stuff gives them pleasure, they are winners before they tee off. But if they want to be better golfers, it takes practice – not the latest set of clubs.
Bicycling offers a similar pursuit. There are enough gadgets to satisfy the most demanding cyclogeek. Speed cannot be bought, but the promise of it comes at a high price. The joy of just getting out and riding can be lost, too, in a flurry of high-speed pedaling. I would put my decade-old, beat-up mountain bike against any other bicycle in the world for its ability to take me to happy places. Insert nearly any physical activity or sport for bicycling, and it's easy to see how the fun can become lost in a stack of catalogs and maxed-out credit cards.
Blogging can fit the same mold, in that people do it for different reasons. They use all kinds of computers. They build all sorts of templates. They add all kinds of nifty bells and whistles. But when it comes down to it, blogging is merely a form of communication. Words (or photos, in the case of photoblogs) must tell some kind of story or mean something to someone, if only to the person who posts them. For me, blogging has been about getting words out there that used to be pent up, and later on it was about making fleeting connections with people far-flung and just up the street in a very casual and two-dimensional way. But – better or worse – I've always focused on words and a few photos rather than plug-ins and flashy graphics to get my points across. The jury's out to whether this is a worthwhile blog for others to read. It's been great for me.
In all these things I mention here, it's the people that matter. We use tools to have fun and get the job done, but the tools don't function on their own. We must look through the lens before releasing the shutter. We must decide which way to swing the club. The outdoors beckons, and we must answer its call. Something pops to mind, and we've got to log on to our blogs and actually produce something to see results.
I hope whatever your pursuit, you enjoy it for what it is. Don't let technology get in the way of having a great time. And don't believe that you need the next best thing to function. Just be yourself.
We had a cold snap here in Texas that lasted about a week, but it was cold enough for us to flip on the furnace for a few days. Well, lo and behold, the stench that eminated from our vents was enough to make us want to move far far away (an intermittent urge as it is). Our layman opinions concurred, and we were guessing Exhibit A was once a living breathing creature that sadly made its final destination our furnance coil.
Besides the offensive odor, the mere thought of a rodent invading our personal space in such a manner gave us the willies. Did the poor little guy have friends? Will family come to the graveside funeral? What can we do to make sure this doesn't happen again?
Enter heating/air conditioning expert No. 1. He removes the blower and finds, not a cooked creature but the fact that the air conditioning condensation drips directly into our sewer line. This is just fine. However, the line drips precariously into an open sewer. No seal had been placed over the opening. I know this is getting boring, so I'll hurry. Without water dripping from the A/C to fill the trap and seal off the odor and deadly sewer fumes, and exacerbated by an aforementioned whole-house clog a few weeks back, the blower was sucking the fumes into our house when we turned on the furnace.
Argh!
On a different matter, but one that has a similar smell to it, my job is becoming unbearable. Every job I've had has soured for some reason that is mostly outside of me. I am now on that tiring journey of trying to find another place of employment. My job is secure for the forseeable future, and maybe I should be thankful just to have a job (I am). But because this job started out so well, I know there is much more to life than working just to work. It has spoiled me, and now repulses me. Why can't we all just get paid for blogging? I'd probably be better at it if I could go pro.
Hey! For my next post I will do my best to bring something upbeat, T-bonish and up to the time wasting quality that has been this site for the past coupla years. Until then, take care!
