Grunge Bunny

Grunge Bunny gone bad. This was a pure experiment that has completely gone awry.

This stuffed animal was handmade for me by my great-grandmother when I was about 3 years old. It came with a tiny suitcase filled with clothes, that she had also hand-sewn with lotsa love. You can tell I loved the bunny and played with it often, it's missing ears and one of the arms is almost falling off. Now it sits in the corner, and a tiny-child size rocking chair that was also mine when I was little.

I've been wanting to experiment with a grunge factor, so I wanted to take something fairly innocuous and slightly boring, and make it super exciting and artsy-fartsy. It was a good lesson in adjustment layers, but it doesn't really come off in the way I intended. Probably a different background would have helped; flowered wallpaper isn't really cutting it for grunge.

Oh well, I'll try again another day with a better subject.

Bad Girl

It's a myth that blondes have more fun. Bad girls have the most fun.

There are days when I want to wear too much rouge, and put perfume in places where I think I might get kissed. I want to go out and drink too much, laugh too loud, flirt outrageously, smoke a cigarette or two, and dance on table-tops in high heels. In short, there are days when I want to act like the girl that your momma always warned you about.

Most days though, I'm a good girl.

Most days I don't wear any makeup, and favor deodorant and soap over perfume. When I laugh, it's more like a giggle than a guffaw. I'm a subtle flirt, preferring wordplay to um, tender touches. Generally, I enjoy my frolic while either barefoot or in Birkenstocks. Most days, my momma could be proud.

There are some days, though....

Smithwick's, Session

Yes, yes, yes...it was just as yummy as it looks.

This afternoon I joined my friends at Ri-Ra's to see a traditional Irish music "session." Regrettably, the band didn't want their pictures taken, and audioblogging was down so I couldn't even post a recording for you. The music was excellent, as usual.

Lotsa laughs, fantastic food, and mad props to the bartender, Joe.


This was taken just before the photography ban - you can see he's none too pleased:




Luckily, he's a better fiddler than a model.

Me

Well, it's been awhile since I've done a self-portrait. Was talking with my friend JP and we were talking about portraits blah blah blah and I told him I'd do one, but no way was I painting my face white. You get a touch of diffuse glow instead.

Hope you like it!

I'm going to try to do a self-portrait about once a month, in the hopes of getting The Shot. You know, the one that your family gives to Fox News and CNN in the event you go missing. God forbid someone pick one like that poor Runaway Bride, with the bug eyes that everyone made fun of.

So, in the event I ever go missing, or become otherwise newsworthy, please let me know if this shot makes the grade for the news outlets. You know, do I look friendly and nice and worth mounting a search party for....

And a special note for my brother: Look! No hands!

Bonus shot:

H2O Audio

H2O Audio is the bomb! Well, at least I think it will. I'm pretty sure it will. I mean, taking your MP3 player into the water with you has got to be good, right?

Witness my submerge test for the marine housing to my new MP3 player. Note the actual player is not in the holder, since I had to test for waterproof-ness first, before I took it in the shower with me. I've decided I just can't wait for summer and swimming to experience the dizzy heights of joy promised by the thought of rocking out to my fave tunes while slippery and wet.

It passed, it's waterproof. Yay!

This is going to give "singing in the shower" a whole new meaning for me....

My Left Hand

Decided to experiment again with an editing technique I first discovered while doing this project. I think I like this one even a little better.

Down to body parts again. I bet I would be way more creative if I had a lightsphere...or maybe if someone sent me a box of chocolates...

Blarney

OK, so I'm digging back into the archives...but stay with me, dear readers, I do have a purpose.

Now and then I like to surf the Internet. Big surprise, no? Well, I came across this interesting blog entry. This poor guy went to Hawaii and lost his camera. Undaunted, he starts a blog about his trip and uses donated travel photos from the good people of Flickr. Heartwarming, right?

But guess what -- that's not all. The park ranger where he lost his camera calls him up and tells him that someone has found his camera! Yay! The park ranger gives him the name and phone number of the person that found the camera, and the owner is now so excited about getting his camera and his travel shots back. Even more heartwarming, right?

He calls the lady that found the camera, and here's where trouble begins. Apparently, the Bad Lady that found the camera let her son play with it. Little Brat falls in love with photography; considers camera a talisman against bad luck. Since Little Brat has just been diagnosed with diabetes, Bad Lady can't bear to take it away from him. (Apparently, she doesn't care if he grows up to be a Diabetic Jerk with no regard for the property of others, so long as he's happy this instant.) Bad Lady wants sympathy from camera owner, as she had to spend a lot of money to get memory cards and a battery charger for the camera that isn't hers, but that she's keeping anyway.

Camera owner and Bad Lady negotiate the return of his memory cards and some chump change to compensate for the loss of the camera. Get this: when he finally gets the package, it contains only CD's with his his travel images. No memory cards, as she needs those now. He calls her back up and asks about it. Her response is basically to tell him to pound sand, and that he's lucky he got the images back at all.

It just so happens that the camera owner is from the US, and the Bad Lady is from Canada, so there's not a lot that can be easily done in a legal sense to get the camera back. Now, we all know that there are poo-poo heads everywhere, so don't make the mistake of thinking that the behavior of one Bad Lady can be construed as a reflection on the ethical standards of all my dear neighbors up north.

So please, dear Internet, if you know who this lady is...please, please give her a couple of slaps up-side the head for me. One for being a selfish moron, and the other for just general purposes.

I hereby donate my "scanned-by-Walmart-from-back-when-I-still-shot-film" image of Blarney Castle to anyone else who's suffered the same misfortune.

Yes, I kissed the stone. Didn't you notice the long post? :)

For the record...

From The Providence Journal, Tuesday, February 21, 2006, Section C, page 1:

Saw this in the paper today, and just couldn't resist a shot to go with it....

Naked and Napping...

01:00 AM EST on Tuesday, February 21, 2006
BY CYNTHIA NEEDHAM, Journal Staff Writer
WOONSOCKET -- City police officers investigating a break-in at a local bar got an eyeful early Sunday morning when they found a suspect naked -- except for a single sock.

The police say they were summoned to Aly's Riverside Pub at 80 River St. just after 2 a.m. Saturday because the bar's alarm was sounding after the tavern had closed for the night. When they arrived, they spotted Casey Mills, 33, of 45 Ascension St., No. 2, lurking behind a Dumpster near the back of the bar. She denied trying to break into the establishment, even giving the police a fake name. But when the police found the bar's back door unlocked, they placed Mills in handcuffs and went inside for a look.

Moments later, they discovered Marcos A. Curet, 27, of 182 Cumberland St, No. 18, lying on the floor of the building's second story, sound asleep despite the nagging alarm.

Curet, the police report said, was "completely naked other than having one sock on." When the officers tried to handcuff Curet, he woke up and began struggling with them, according to the report. Once Curet was under control he and Mills were transported to the police station. Both were charged with breaking and entering and resisting arrest. Mills was also charged with failing to appear in court on an unrelated case.

Because yesterday was a holiday, no arraignment information was available.

Games People Play - II

Dice. I particularly love this shot because you can see every numeric value available.

There are probably thousands of different dice games, but the one I like to play is called 5000. Basically, you throw the dice and try to get certain combinations in order to continue your turn. Three of a kind, a one, or a five will "keep you alive." At any point during your turn, you can "stick" and add your accumulated points to your game total. If all your die score during your turn, you can pick them up and throw them again until you have a throw that doesn't add to your accumulated score. At that point, you lose all the points you've accumulated during that turn. That is called a "bust." The first player to get to 5000 earned points wins.

What makes this game really fun to play is the element of risk; in order to actually earn points, at some point you have to "stick" instead of "bust." Some players always stick at 500 points accumulated. Others won't stop throwing their die until they either accumulate over a 1000 points, or bust trying.

How much risk you want to take changes during the course of the game, and depends in large part on how much risk other players are taking. A conservative player can win by building up their point total in 500 point increments while their opponents bust, but a risk-tolerant player will go for the big splash and try to earn thousands of points at a time. Either strategy can work well, depending on the situation at hand.

Much like life, correctly assessing risk is essential to be a winner.

Games People Play - I

This game is called cribbage. It's played with a deck of cards and a pegboard that consists of 120 holes. The object of the game is to win.

Oh, OK, seriously, the object of the game is to earn 120 points faster than your opponent. Instead of writing down your score for each round on a piece of paper and then adding it up, you advance (via leapfrogging) your peg one hole for each point earned. Cribbage is cool because there are two major ways to earn points and make your way around the board: through the cards you are dealt and the way that you play them. While there is an element of luck in what kind of hand you are dealt, a good player can overcome a poor hand through use of strategy.

Cribbage is a lot like life. It's not just the hand you are dealt, it's the way that you play it.

Real Sentimental

What I learned today was that it's extremely hard to shoot diamonds. It's much, much, much easier to wear them. The other thing I learned is that my black velvet "frilly bits" that I was trying to use as a background are prone to lint and funky light absorption. Again, it's much, much, much easier to wear the frilly bits.

This is a family heirloom ring, that I thought I would try to photograph mostly because I read an article about this company. Seems that some entrepreneur has decided to make artificial diamonds from the cremated remains of your loved ones. Yup, you read that right. Gramma and Grampa can now be together forever and always close to your heart if you set their diamonds together on a broach. Apparently, all this company needs is 8 ounces of ash, sans teeth or whatever other foreign material and prosthetic devices happen to be present in the remains.

Eight ounces. They'll send the rest back to you, upon request.

Diamonds made from the human remains are either yellow or blue, depending on how much money you spend. For $19,000 you can have a 1 carat blue diamond made out of yourself; they take payment plans and you can set the whole thing up before you die just like you could a funeral. LifeGem claims that each person is unique, and so the exact shade of yellow or blue is dependent on the person. (Guess what? According to LifeGem your momma was right - you are special and unique!)

Did I mention they also can make diamonds out of pets?

Now, I'm not advocating wearing Fido on a pendant around your neck, but you gotta admire the ingenuity. I mean, who spends $19 grand for a fake diamond? Yet somehow, these people have cashed in on an old Victorian mourning tradition (wearing jewelry made of the deceased's woven hair) and given it a 21st century spin.

Brilliant!

Rhinotillexis

Right off the bat I want to say that this is not me!

The proper term for using one's fingers to extract boogers is rhinotillexis. There is an Austrian doctor, Dr. Friedrich Bischinger, who believes that "people who pick their noses with their fingers are healthier, happier, and more in tune with their bodies." Dr. Bischinger says that if you use your fingers, you can really get up in there and get all the good stuff out, keeping your nose cleaner than what you could if you only used a handkerchief.

I decided to experiment with this notion with a co-worker, it being Friday and all. She graciously agreed to pick her nose to see if there were any beneficial effects. Regrettably, after our little photo shoot she felt the extreme need for some Purell anti-bacterial lotion. Luckily, we have a stockpile of it.

Just so that you are fully informed here, the proper term for compulsive eating of boogers is rhinotillexomania, and if you suffer from that condition it's considered a form of Pica.

Now that's damn interesting.

See also: Can you die from picking your nose?

Lime

I hope this post works this time.

Lupercalia

After doing all that research yesterday, I thought it would be fun to take a shot depicting something from the old Lupercalia ritual. Regrettably, we only have coyotes here instead of wolves. Not even one of my friends would agree to being beaten with a whip in a mock attempt, either. Since the whole thing was about fertility, the closest I could come was something growing.

This is a common red potato, which is growing roots from the eyes. I've had this (and a few others) under a towel in the kitchen for about a month now, making seed potatoes for the garden this spring. I only just noticed how cool the roots are!

I'm cheating a tiny bit on the date, since I unexpectedly fell asleep last night. I'll do better today, I promise!

Love Potion

I hope you all have a very Happy Valentine's Day!

There are lots of people who claim that Valentine's Day is "too commercial," and seem resentful of having to give their loved ones tokens of affection "just because of a Hallmark holiday." Bah humbug! Christmas is too commercial, too, but nobody walks around complaining about having to get presents.

The love you take is equal to the love you make, baby!

Much like Christmas and other Christian holidays, Valentine's Day has at least some of it's roots in a pagan festival. This time of year, it was the Lupercalia festival. (Side note: William Shakespeare's play Julius Caeser begins during Lupercalia.)

"While some believe that Valentine's Day is celebrated in the middle of February to commemorate the anniversary of Valentine's death or burial -- which probably occurred around 270 A.D -- others claim that the Christian church may have decided to celebrate Valentine's feast day in the middle of February in an effort to Christianize' celebrations of the pagan Lupercalia festival. In ancient Rome, February was the official beginning of spring and was considered a time for purification. Houses were ritually cleansed by sweeping them out and then sprinkling salt and a type of wheat called spelt throughout their interiors. Lupercalia, which began at the ides of February, February 15, was a fertility festival dedicated to Faunus, the Roman god of agriculture, as well as to the Roman founders Romulus and Remus.

To begin the festival, members of the Luperci, an order of Roman priests, would gather at the sacred cave where the infants Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, were believed to have been cared for by a she-wolf or lupa. The priests could then sacrifice a goat, for fertility, and a dog, for purification.

The boys then sliced the goat's hide into strips, dipped them in the sacrificial blood and took to the streets, gently slapping both women and fields of crops with the goathide strips. Far from being fearful, Roman women welcomed being touched with the hides because it was believed the strips would make them more fertile in the coming year. Later in the day, according to legend, all the young women in the city would place their names in a big urn. The city's bachelors would then each choose a name out of the urn and become paired for the year with his chosen woman. These matches often ended in marriage. Pope Gelasius declared February 14 St. Valentine's Day around 498 A.D. The Roman 'lottery' system for romantic pairing was deemed un-Christian and outlawed. Later, during the Middle Ages, it was commonly believed in France and England that February 14 was the beginning of birds' mating season, which added to the idea that the middle of February -- Valentine's Day -- should be a day for romance..."

Source: History Channel

Today I saw on the news that there were two red-tailed hawks hanging out in front of the webcam on top of the Schraft's (popular candy-maker, for you non-US folks) building in Boston, and appeared to be ready to mate. When two hawks choose each other as a mate, it's for life. Say it with me now: Awwwwww.

Hearts

So, with Valentine's Day just around the corner, thoughts of love and dating seems to be in the air. Was talking with my friend Michelle (Mick) the other day and she asked me how my book was coming...

Mick used to sit behind me at work, and was excellent at prying details of my latest romance from me. With her infectious laugh and the kind of encouragement that can only come from a true good friend, (as in: "OMG, you KILL me with this stuff!" she's been insisting for awhile now that I write a book and share the wealth of my dating experience.

First off, I should say that I love dating. I love it so much, I'll probably do it for the rest of my life. I'm particularly fond of the First Kiss. You know, the one that you've anticipated for what seems like ages; the one that makes your heart pound and your breath shallow and quick, the one that when you are oh-so-close to the final approach of a pair of soft, warm, slightly parted lips that your heart just skips a beat and your eyes go fuzzy from having too many stars in them. That one. Think back - remember your last First Kiss. Have fun with that.

Back to the book. I've played around with this for over a year now, and have been doing some research. Lots of research. :) Sad to say, I've not completed much more than the outline, but here's an excerpt:

A good date consists of two of the following three things: food, entertainment, and affection. Not necessarily in that order, but you get the drift. Food, because a girl's gotta eat. Entertainment, because c'mon - girls just want to have fun, right? Affection - this should be self-explanatory. If you can hit all three in one night, you've got youself a winning evening.

And how do you know when you've progressed from "just dating" to "relationship?" Why, when the "affection" becomes the entertainment, of course.

Yes, it really is that simple.

Snowed In; Howling Wind

OK, so I woke up this morning and finally got to see the Blizzard of 2006. It didn't start here in RI until about 2 am; when I went to bed I had big visions of getting up this morning to a winter wonderland, and thought I'd have so much fun today making snow angels and blowing snow kisses at the sky.

However, twelve hours later I'm afraid to go outside. Play the audio - listen to my howling wind! They say it's only going to get worse. As I write this, I still have power and satellite TV. I'd love to have a fire, but I'm saving the wood in case the power goes out and I have to use the fireplace for heat. Edited to add: How pathetic does that sound? I took a nap and found my cajones - I'm a risk-taker now! I've got a blaze that you should be able to see from your house!

Which brings me to my next point. Since I can't do anything else today, I plan to write a short missive to the folks at The Weather Channel regarding the correct way to say "Bangor, Maine." It's not "Banger," Maine, it's "Bang-'GORE." 'K? Get it right, for God's sakes. People all over the country are laughing at you, and some (like me) are just insulted.

Here in RI there is a cultural phenomena known as the "Gotta get bread and milk" compulsion whenever more than 3" are predicted. This is because of the Blizzard of 1978 when everyone got stranded on their way home from work, and people died on the highway because the snow piled up over their car exhaust and they got carbon monoxide poisoning. Over 3,500 cars were found abandoned or otherwise stuck on the roads, and the plows couldn't clear the roads for days and days because of them. I wasn't living here at the time, but let me assure you that today there probably isn't a gallon of milk or a loaf of bread to be found on a store shelf for a 50 mile radius. Yesterday there were three sad sacks of hot dog rolls left at the local grocer at 4 pm. I know this because, under peer pressure, I went to get....bread and milk. :)

As a reference to the whiteout factor, I'm including a bonus shot of my driveway:



Yep - that's my trusty Jeep. 4-wheel drive on the fly - couldn't ask for more on a snowy road like this one. I left the power lines in because they follow the road on the right side of the drive. The road kind of curves through the trees, but you can't see even the forest in the background which is about 1/10 of a mile away. The snow is drifting even now to about 3 feet, and I can't currently open my front door due to drifting and the weight of the snow. To get these shots, I had to open the windows. Here's a tip: composition is tricky when you are hanging out a window and choking on blowing snow.

So, here's to being snowed in! It's actually kind of fun....

Saxy Blues

Ok, this is the last of the Ball pix I think. Between napping and editing, it was a full day off. And there's another one tomorrow - wahoo!

By God there had better be snow when I wake up. Here in RI we were promised a blizzard, and I want my blizzard!

Got freaky with some toning and added film grain here. I like the way it came out.

Funny thing, though, with all this editing I really really miss actually taking a picture each day. When I started this project I thought I'd never be able to do it, so my only rule was to post a shot each day, as long as I edited it that same day. Now there are so many inspiring shots in everyone else's PAD, and so many new things I want to try, I can't wait to get going on some new stuff.

The Rest of the Story

How it was done....

Yes, folks, what you see here is the fantabulous and wonderful behind-the-scenes moment of Alfresco shooting "Chapelicious" which can be viewed here.

Awww. I know. Cute behind, um behind-the-scenes moment, huh?

Gimme Some Blues!

There was a room, and it was full of blues, and there was dancing, and there was photography.

That's Duke Robillard there in the left side of the frame.

They were awesome - can't wait for another listen.

This Old Man

Why ride when you can walk, right?

Oh, this poor old man. I've played with this shot so many different ways. For some reason, I just like it. The original of this was not as good as it could have been, because I was set for a deep DOF for the shot immediately before it (which was yesterday's post). A little blur on the roadway probably would have helped immensely.

I can't swear for certain, but I think the last filter I used was Paint: Fresco. It seemed to work well, so I went for it.

Here is the Steeple

This is the steeple of the First Baptist Church of America (1775). The founder of this church, Roger Williams, also founded the State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations. Yep, that is the real, true name of my Little Rhody. It's a bear to make out on a check for the taxes. Rhode Island has the great distinction of being the smallest state in the United States, and also the one with the longest name.

Hey! I bet you didn't know that!

There's some great architecture work inside, but this is the shot of the day.

Onlooker

This one just tickled my fancy a bit - I like how the guy in the mural on the background seems to be watching her pose for the shot.

Looking back now, I wish the wall didn't bisect the top of her head, and that the composition was a little better. Still, it makes me smile to see it, so I'm posting it anyway.

Baker's Dozen

Today's title is also a link to the event I shot last night. Yesterday's post was one of my early faves, and this is another.

The Culinary Archives and Museum was a fantastic venue, with lots of interesting stuff on the walls on and also on display. Pictured behind the bread table is Chef Louis Szathmary, Chef/Owner of "The Bakery" Restaurant in Chicago, Illinois. It's actually a giant mural.

The student chef who manned this table was a little camera shy, so I had to make to do with the background. :)

Private Moment?

Well, this wasn't what I was originally going to post, but since blogger was down earlier this evening when I tried and then I came up with this shot, I couldn't resist.

This couple was sooo funny. They thought they were being unobtrusive, but you can't get much past L2. She sees and knows everything. :)

I guess sometimes what you think is private really isn't, huh?

Enjoy!

Restoration

Inspired by this forum thread and also by events yesterday, went poking through some old photos I'd previously scanned from Gramp's photo albums. This is my Grampa and Grammie when they were still dating.

I learned it's a lot harder to do photo restorations than I'd thought.

Altered Reality

Today's post is about perception. What you see here is post-processed almost beyond recognition. This isn't a statement on digital art versus photography, this is dedicated to my Grampa.

Have you ever found yourself consumed by thoughts of another? Realize you haven't actually spoken to that person in several days, and find yourself consumed with the desire to touch base? Today that happened to me.

It's hard these days to get my grandfather on the phone, and even harder to get him on a "good day." The hardest part is living so far away from him, and having to rely on the phone for communication. He doesn't live at home anymore because he needs more skilled care than our family can provide; he gets confused a lot. When he's confused, it's like he sees the world through a haze of memories, through filters of his own forgotten experiences and feelings. People get mixed up for a minute, his sense of time and place isn't always reality. Sometimes he sees things that aren't there, or sees them in such a way that you are forced to look at them differently, too.

Today was a good day. Today when I talked to my Grampa he sounded as hale and hearty as could be. Today he sounded like he could have cut, split, and hauled about eight cord of wood before lunch. We had a great conversation. Then time and place shifted for him, and he mentioned something that made me recall one of my fondest memories.

When we were kids, at the beginning of every summer, Gramp would always take a pine board and cut it into a rectangle with a notch on each end, making swing-boards. Then he'd set up the sawhorses in the driveway and cover them with an old piece of plywood -- making "paint benches." We'd get to choose from whatever colors were available, and we'd have great fun decorating our swing-boards. We'd have to wear our "play-clothes" and cover those up with some old aprons, but we thought it was the best fun ever to make polka dots and swirls and whatever else we could dream up, and always in as many colors as were available. Each year, we'd try to best last year's design.

At the edge of the lawn, just before the hayfield, there were two trees about 12 feet apart, with interlocking limbs. Hackmatacks, I think. It was a solemn ritual every year to tie big thick ropes to the limbs of the trees, and fit the swingboards into the rope. Then we'd stand there and promise not to swing too high, or jump off at the height of the arc into the hayfield, or to twist the ropes up too much, and to swing straight instead of side-to-side so we wouldn't hit the trees and knock our heads off. Of course, we were just kids and as soon as Gramp's back was turned we'd always tried to swing too high, and see who could make the greatest leap into the air, and twist those ropes until we got dizzy with the sheer delight of un-spinning them.

And just for a minute I was 6 years old again.

So today I went back to the plant, and tried to see it the way my Grampa might: having to look twice and think hard to recognize it, seeing it through an altered perception, and with a bright light (almost hidden) to guide him out of the vision and lead him back to reality.

Yes, today was a good day, Grampa. I know there's no computer where you are, and that you'll never get to see this post... but I saw it for you.

Ruby Glow

Don't even ask me, I have no idea what the name of this plant is. All I know is that it sacrificed part of a leaf to the camera strap as I was fishing for angles. Getting up underneath a plant that grows sideways and still getting the lighting to fall down through the veins correctly was a bear!