Saturday Break

My parents rented a house on the beach this weekend, so I’ll be heading out there tomorrow with my family. It’s been requested that I bring my camera to take head shots of my sister and some beach photographs I can get printed in black-and-white and framed for my mother’s house. There are also some plane spotting sites that can be found around the small airport in the area, so I should be busy photographically if nothing else. I am taking both camera bags and all my lenses and Speedlites so I can take all sorts of photos while I’m there, and I’m looking forward to it. The beach is only a bit over an hour from my house, so it’s a short trip, and I’ll be coming back Sunday morning to get my weekend errands done before another hectic week of work starts up.

This morning my mother posted a picture of the balcony view from their beach house on Facebook; I stole a copy of it to share with you here. It’s not the prettiest beach in the world, but whatever. There’s sand and water and a balcony, so I can make do. See you all at the end of the weekend!

beach

Oh, Sandy

I went to get my arm worked on Tuesday night, and as Sandy was kneading the knots out of it I realized I seriously need to find a way to record our conversations without feeling guilty about it or getting caught (although, probably if I don’t get caught, I won’t feel guilty, since that’s how it usually works, so there’s really only one thing I need to figure out). Since I haven’t done that yet, I’ll have to summarize today.

Sandy: “I had such a nice morning! I had no appointments until evening, so I decided to go out on my back porch and grill me some pork chops. While they were grilling, I decided to put some feed in the bird feeder, and wouldn’t you know it soon enough there was this squirrel sneaking around my peach tree to get at that seed…”

If you know Sandy, you know where this is going:

Sandy: “So I went and got my BB gun and I shot that squirrel. Then I thought, hm, I do have the grill going already, I oughta just skin that thing and grill it up. But then I decided that was too much work, so I got a Wal-Mart bag and put it in there and threw it in the trash.”

There was also a description of a tumor she had removed one time that, according to her doctor, looked like an octopus, but he “got in there and took all the tentacles out.” When Sandy told me that, I was face down as one is when getting a massage, with my face through the little pillow-hole where she couldn’t see me, so I was free to make the appropriate OMG face in reaction to this description. Which reminded me of how years ago, when I used to get massages from this massive, six-foot, two-hundred-and-something-pound Swedish woman named Elga, I would make the most ridiculous faces into the void opened up by that pillow hole while she mashed me into oblivion, and I used to think it would be a great photo series to stick a camera under that hole and snap pics of people while getting literally ironed flat like fresh linens by that woman (she injured me more often than she healed my injuries, which is why I had to quit going to her). Such a portrait series might even be better if the shots were taken while listening to Sandy’s stories.

No photos today – just wanted to share a little Sandy tale of squirrel murder. She did say that after she got rid of little Rocky’s remains and ate her pork chop, she went to “Mickey D’s” for her daily sundae, so at least the story has a sweet ending. And my arm feels great, so maybe I’ll edit some more pics tomorrow.The aviation museum shots, maybe?

Oh and in other news, I recently mentioned submitting more photos to Getty Images – and they accepted all but one of them! The new ones are included on my artist page. I had a feeling it would be easier to get these shots accepted than my movement shots, which I don’t think make very common or sought-after stock photos. But I am going to submit some more recent stuff, including, probably, that striped-dress levitation shot everyone liked so much. But I have to fill out model release forms for that stuff, which is a pain, so I haven’t done it yet. Until next time!

 

 

Final Flickrings

Just a quick update on all things Flickr, but first – I know I say this all the time, but I am going to keep this blog post short because my right arm is killing me again. I’ve decided to go see my new friend Sandy twice a week, for thirty minutes each time, solely to work out the terrible kinks I’ve developed in this arm over the years. The knots and spasms are really out of control, and Tuesday’s Flickr panic did NOT help, as I was literally typing and clicking computer keys for ten hours straight trying to get that all straightened out. I kind of wanted to get back to the airport on Saturday to shoot some more airplane photos, but using my bum arm to hold up a slightly heavier than usual camera and hit the trigger over and over is probably not a good idea right now. More photos would then lead to editing which is even more computer clicking, and I really really need to try and give it a rest. Unfortunately, it is also scheduling time at school, and I have to sit at work all day and click keys to get them enetered because we have an archaic computer scheduling system which requires us to enter everything manually; it’s already gonna be a challenge to see if my arm can survive that, much less throw a bunch of photography and editing into the mix. We’ll see if I can actually stick to this plan or I give in and go shoot photos anyway. At least the airplane shots don’t require the massive editing my portraits tend to, so that might help.

As far as Flickr, I am working on moving my photos over to the new account. I am hoping once the brouhaha over Yahoo switching off Google IDs dies down, I can get Flickr to remove it. I thought about just leaving it up with the announcement posted so if people stumble across the page they can go follow me at my new one, but I’m concerned that it might get hacked at some point if it just sits out there unattended forever – I’d hate for an account associated with me to start posting pornography or harassing people. I am going to keep it up for a month or so, so that people who followed that account have a chance to see the announcement, but after that I would like to remove it. I’ve uploaded most of the photos I want to showcase on the new page at this point, but I’ve marked them private so as not to overwhelm my “new” followers with photos and will try to slip them into my stream in a week or so.

So I’m shutting up now to protect my arm. Have a nice day!

 

Flickr Fallout

As I mentioned (and griped about in the comments) in yesterday’s post, Flickr disabled Google ID logins at some point, and yesterday it hit me. Well in reality, Yahoo did the disabling, and since they own Flickr, my Google ID got the boot. I am sure there was some sort of warning this was coming, but I did not see or notice it anywhere – just went to login yesterday and got error message after error message about it.

The Help forum wasn’t too helpful, although I suppose they tried. The truth is, to get my old account back I was going to have to jump through hoops I wasn’t willing to attempt; I am terrible at following written instructions, and when those instructions are purely internet-based without any human contact (even if it’s just a voice on a phone) is overwhelming as hell to me. I need to actually speak to someone to understand what I am supposed to do, so to force myself to figure out step one of some fairly long list of steps I am going to have to take to accomplish something, only to have step one fail and involve a second list of even more detailed sub-steps just to move to step two, was simply not going to happen. Honestly I melt down pretty quickly when something like that happens (“Wait – before you can follow these steps I just sent you, you must backtrack and undo the other five steps you were already told to follow earlier. Got that?”)

The first thing that happened Tuesday morning was that I tried to login and it failed, repeatedly. Then I read through Flickr’s thread that I had to create a Yahoo account to login. So, I did. But oh no, that was wrong, because in order to get my old, Google ID Flickr account connected to the new Yahoo one, I first had to delete the new Yahoo account I’d just been told to create to login. Then step two was to – you guessed it – login with my Google ID account. But the login for Google ID was disabled so I could not do that anyway. In the end I said to hell with it and opened a new Yahoo account and am trying to start over from there. I managed to gain access to my old account through the Flickr mobile app (first time I’ve had a use for that crappy thing) so that I could post a statement on it, asking people to follow me at the new Yahoo account, then I posted a statement on my new account stating that yes, it was, in fact, me.

Now it gets even more fun. After working to re-establish contact with users, I found that I was blocked from following new people after I’d connected with the first 20 I tried. From what I can glean skimming the help threads, Flickr is only going to allow me to follow 20 new people a day. I also cannot email because Flickr thinks I sent too many at first and therefore may be a spammer, so everyone who has emailed me to say hi is currently being ignored as I can’t respond to them. great. Then I thought, well wait – i can go to their photos and comment to let them know I appreciate them sending me an email of support – but nooooooo. Flickr has now decided that I, as a “new” member, have posted too many comments at once too, and has blocked me from adding any more to people’s photos. This sucks, because I want to let people know that I appreciate them following me to my new page, and that I am going to get back to them as soon as I can, but I can’t do it through any means on Flickr right now.

I’m also working on transferring old photos over to the new page, which actually isn’t bad since it’s forcing me to sift through everything and decide on the work I really like. It’s something I”ve been meaning to do with my old account for about a year – get rid of the scraps and just leave the best work up to view. But I had almost 2,000 photos there and it was overly daunting to even consider doing that amount of work. Here, if all goes well, I will have a much more streamlined photostream; I just hope people will see it, since right now I can’t reach out to anyone beyond the 20 I first contacted with everything hit the fan. Keep your fingers crossed that I comment and follow some more people tomorrow morning.

By the way – my husband thinks it’s the stupidest move ever for me to be opening this new account rather than waiting around for days and days for them to reconnect me to my old one. But  the only way I see to get reconnected is for me to lose my mind going through all these convoluted steps and emailing Yahoo Help (oxymoron if ever I heard one) two hundred times. I just can’t bear to deal with it anymore – so I am holding out hope that on Wednesday I can once again comment and email and follow more people. If not I’m at least going to try another update statement at my new account to see if it can tide us all over until i get things established. Wish me luck!!

Update: Late Tuesday night, Yahoo emailed me suggesting I try one more thing to get my old account merged with my new one, and asked me to send them an email from the account that was connected to it. So, i did that, and now – that email server is DOWN. Totally unrelated to all the Flickr mess, but gets in the way of correcting the problem for sure. It is as if the universe wants me to let this account go.

Getty-ing There

I wasn’t going to write a blog post today, but after getting back from my weekly appointment with crazy massage lady Sandy (this week we discussed recipes, mostly, and home decorating, and lots of complaints about her husband) I decided to finally check out the links Getty Images has been sending me the past few months, detailing the changes they’ve made to their Flickr Contributor program.

I may have mentioned here before that I was accepted into the program a little over a year ago. My photos are here. When I was first invited to become a contributor, I checked the website constantly to see if I had any sales, but I never did, so eventually I forgot about it. But a few months ago Getty ended their partnership with Flickr, and started emailing contributors to let them know how they were changing our connections to their site. I kept getting the emails while I was at work and unable to really check into it, but about an hour ago I remembered about the messages and clicked on over to my Getty Contributor page to see what was up. Well lo and behold – I actually had money in my account. Turns out that just a few weeks ago I sold a copy of one of my photos, and on April 25th I’m getting $155.00 deposited into my PayPal account – it feels like free money! The photo Getty sold was this one.

Also, I no longer have to wait until Getty contacts me asking for a certain photo they saw on Flickr that they liked – I can just upload photos directly to my account and someone from Getty will review it and decide whether or not to take it. This is much easier, except that I have to fill out a model release for every single photo that has a human in it, which is a pain. But I’m going to upload some non-human stuff as soon as possible and get model releases from friends I’ve photographed so I can upload more portraits and jumping shots to my contributor page.

So, I’ve officially made my first sale. And I didn’t even know it.

Crazy Country Massage

In spite of my arm troubles, I have to type up a little synopsis of my experience getting a massage tonight. It’s not what you think, if your mind went into the gutter right away – but it is really bizarre, in a fun sort of way. Fun, if you are accustomed to this particular sort of Southern old lady I’m about to describe. For those of you not from the South, this woman might not be familiar to you, and furthermore, she might horrify you. I apologize if that is the case. My Southern readers will recognize this type of character right away. But I should warn you there is lots of hunting talk, and the talk gets weird – it’s something I’m totally used to even though I’d never shoot an animal unless it was about to kill me, which would only happen anyway if a bear crashed through the back windows of my house because I sure ain’t venturing out into nature to encounter any. Moving on.

Photo Apr 08, 7 32 57 PM

Now, when one thinks massage, one probably does not think of a strip center like this – at least, not massage of the therapeutic sort. But as it turns out, my dog groomer was housed in this little countrified shopping area right up the street from my house for years, so I was familiar with the woman’s massage office when Google pulled her up as being in my area – I just never thought of trying her out before. Had I not been frequenting this little place for years, I’m sure I would have taken one look at the place and kept driving, but I was already immune to its run-down “charm,” and didn’t really think twice about heading on in. This little center is actually one of the oldest in the area, sitting right across the street from a well-known neighborhood barber shop in a historic old home; everything has grown up around it like crazy, but it has always looked basically the same.

Photo Apr 08, 7 32 04 PM
The “payment slot” is always a nice touch.

Just based on the door alone, I was not at all surprised when “Sandy” explained to me later that she knew NOTHING about technology. You don’t say? I can’t even remember the last time I saw those peel-and-stick letters put to such good use on an office door. Good times.

Speaking of Sandy, she was approximately 68 years old, tiny, and aside from the entirely white ensemble of long-sleeved turtleneck, stretch pants, and orthopedic shoes, she was a dead ringer for Flo, the sassy diner waitress from the 80’s sitcom Alice.

flo.
OK, so she also had a little less hair.

The massage itself was pretty good, and she worked a lot of the kinks out of my bum arm. But the conversation was the real stand-out here – and yes, I do mean conversation. Usually I fall to sleep during a massage, but although Sandy had the requisite tinkly, wind-chime-y music playing in the background, I could barely hear it over all her talking. Sandy is one of those people who manages to tell you loads of personal details about herself during the course of a conversation (she’s been married twice, her first husband died of cancer, she’s been in business over 30 years, she knows how to shoot both rifles and handguns and has a concealed carry license, etc. etc.) but at the end of it knows nothing more about you than your name. Well in this case, she knew my name and how much my right arm hurt, but why it was hurting (spending too much time on the computer) we never got around to discussing.

Photo Apr 08, 6 10 40 PM
Oh, and she also owns rental properties. LOTS of rental properties. Owning rental properties is a LOT of WORK, y’all. Sandy can tell you all about it.

So here I am, lying on a table getting my knots ironed out, tinkly music playing in the background, and for a good twenty minutes Sandy is describing to me, in detail, not only how many times she’s killed a deer, but exactly HOW she kills them – where she shoots them, how far away she is from them when she shoots them, etc. That set up a nice segue into what she described as a “typical old person afternoon” – shooting squirrels off the back porch with a BB gun, then heading to McDonald’s for some ice cream. Yep. That was how my massage therapist described the ideal life of a Typical Old Person. Then there was this:

Sandy: “This morning I told my grandkids how I’d shot three squirrels in the backyard, and they said they wanted to eat ’em fried, just like they do on Duck Dynasty. So guess what I did?”

Me: “Um, you fried them…?”

Sandy: “Not yet, but I skinned ’em! Then I put ’em in the deep freeze, so the next time my grandkids come over they can have fried squirrel.”

Me: “So, where do you live again?” (Answer: in my neighborhood)

Photo Apr 08, 6 10 11 PM
Abandon hope, all squirrels who enter here

When I told my husband where I was going for a massage, he immediately joked that the place probably got mistaken a lot for a massage PARLOR by the all the old country boys in the area, which surprised me because the thought had never entered my mind. But as it turns out, Sandy has lots of stories about men calling for appointments asking for ‘special services,’ as she called them. She even told me that when she first moved her business into our area she was denied a license because the assumption was that she was opening a house of ill-repute. For her first few years, she was only allowed to have female clients, and she was not allowed to operate after 5 PM (the assumption being, I guess, that most people looking for happy endings would do so after-hours. As if). And keep in mind, this was back in the NINETIES. Ah, the South. So much fried squirrel. So little massage.

Photo Apr 08, 6 10 31 PM
I love it that you can get your feet massaged for $20. And I’m assuming this sign doesn’t actually mean you can get five and a half hours of massage in one session. Because – no. I refuse to reflect on that further. 

But after all the crazy-talk, my arm did feel better (although typing this post up has caused it to flare up again – damn), and my wallet was only $50 lighter, so I went ahead and made an appointment to go back next week. The more I reflect on the experience, the more I think she might really be crazy, and I’m now a little suspicious about the fact that the client leaving the massage room right before me was a dude (she’s not REALLY doling out happy endings, is she?). Plus, her phone was ringing constantly the whole time (the rental properties, don’t ya know). But as far as the massage went, she was appropriate and respectful and she did seem to know what she was doing, so for now I’m going to surmise she’s just a bit nuts. If nothing else, she’s certainly an experience. We’ll see how long I can tolerate it.

Contempt-orary Art

Our final excursion around town Saturday was to the new contemporary arts museum which opened up five months ago. My friend Candace is on the board of directors, so she wanted me to go by and see the space.

I should mention that my friend is on the board of directors for pretty much everything in this town. Keep in mind, by the way, that this is not the town in which I live, but a town that is very close to my neighborhood and is actually where my school is located. Katy, Texas is a very unique area, one of many that make up Houston and its surrounding neighborhoods, to be sure, but an area with its own attitude. It used to be a small town that was far enough away from Houston to be considered “the country” but those days have been over a long, long time – much longer than I’ve been alive anyway. However, Katy has maintained this sense of itself as a small town that is all its own, and as such, it has a history it has managed to keep alive, as well as scads of “old Katy” families whose members have wielded weird power within the little city for generations, it seems. My friend Candace is from one of these Old Katy families, so she knows everyone and is involved in everything. She attends things I’d never begin to understand, all sorts of Women’s Associations and Civic Luncheons and other mysteries are always on her schedule. It’s a town that still has all that stuff going on regularly, and to me, it’s all foreign (Renee Zellweger grew up in Katy, by the way, if that matters).

So anyway, it is no surprise that my friend Candace is on the board of this new contemporary art museum, and it’s certainly no surprise that she wanted me to see the space.

katy14_Snapseed

When she first told me this gallery was opening up, I figured it would be a disaster. There’s never been much demand for contemporary art in a small conservative town like this, and part of me figured it wouldn’t be “real” contemporary art anyway. But it appeared to be the real deal, at least as far as the artwork was concerned. I’m no art aficionado, but I was impressed with the collection of work I saw on display. It was also clear the director plans all sorts of talks and workshops in the space to reach out to the community and make the gallery a place for people to come together and celebrate art, which is pretty awesome.

However, I couldn’t help it – I found the director off-putting and unlikable. Perhaps it’s because she was talking to one of the board members that she went on and on so much while we were there, but she was exhausting.  Not only that, she was pretty negative. She spent most of her time complaining about how no one in this little town saw the value of investing in art, something which I would think one would investigate before opening up such a venue. And it’s true, she did seem to be aware of this before the gallery opened its doors, she just really, really liked pointing it out to us over and over again – how no one in the area thought a work of art was a valid use of two thousand dollars. It got weird after awhile, how she kept talking about it, while at the same time shooting down anything either I or Candace had to say about the subject, as if she’d already thought of or realized everything we tried to contribute to the discussion – which again, kept making me wonder why she opened up the gallery in the first place if she was already so acutely aware of something that clearly bugged the crap out of her so much. It got old pretty fast.

Not only that, but I became aware that I was one of these closed-minded patrons she was criticizing; I came into the store and wandered around, liked what I saw for sure, but had no intention of plonking down $1500 for any of the pieces. So in effect, she was repeatedly telling me what was wrong with my attitude about art. I started to feel guilty that I wasn’t ready to whip out my checkbook and invest in anything, but if that’s her selling style it isn’t going to work out too well for her, because it sure didn’t work on me. I just felt judged and uncomfortable.

She also went on a lot about her mission to ‘teach people’ about art, based in part on her assumption that no one in the area knew anything about it already (because they weren’t buying anything). It seemed a bit presumptuous to assume people needed all this teaching, but maybe it’s not – I’m just not sure lack of art sales = lack of art education. It could just mean lack of money. Yes, there is money in Katy, Texas, and lots of it – but this is still a depressed economy, and as far as luxury items go, art is up there pretty high at the top of the list of what people won’t spend money on when the belt is being tightened. And this is a very conservative area to boot, and art of the contemporary variety is going to be a hard sell in such a place even when the economy’s booming.

Besides which, insulting people with the tone of one’s conversation isn’t ever going to be a great way to convince people to cough up their cash. Take this conversation for example. While she was going on about how people in the area just don’t see the value of art and how it’s her duty to teach them about this, I asked her about photography and if she thought it was an easier sell. Keep in mind that as I ask this I am standing in the center of the gallery with my Canon strapped around my neck, and have been snapping photos of some of the newly constructed spaces she’d shown us with abandon. In other words, I am clearly a fan of photography. Her answer to my question was this: photography isn’t art except for very few exceptions, but it’s easy to understand and appreciate so sure, people are going to like it – but if I focus on photographs no one’s learning about art. Anyone can take photographs because it’s easy; sure, sometimes someone with a camera gets lucky by being in the right place at the right time, or snapping a shutter at just the right moment, or taking loads of shots so by default at least one of them comes out decent – but it’s too easy to really be valuable.  Wow, thanks for pointing out what crap my passion is while I’m standing in your gallery trying to figure out why I should spend my hard-earned money on what you’ve got hanging on your walls.

I bought a coffee mug.

katy12_Snapseed
A shot I popped off without looking while we were standing in an as-yet-unfinished area of the gallery. I guess it isn’t art, because she’s right – it was pretty easy.

In the end, I left the gallery feeling chastened, overwhelmed, and unworthy. At the time, I just smiled while she insulted my art of choice and ragged on people like me who won’t drop two grand for a heart sculpture made out of nails, but I kind of wish I’d snapped to her attitude more quickly and gotten bitchy with her. At the time though, I was tired, and not too quick on the take.

Here’s another example of how our conversation went throughout the visit – when she took us around the side of the gallery to show us the new space that’s under construction, I fell in love with the orange wall that wrapped around the side exterior of the building. What followed went like this:

Me: Oooh, I love this orange wall! I gotta go across the street and get a picture. It’s amazing!

Her: Yeah, I’m painting over it. It’s all going to be white.

Me: Oh, erm, okay…

katy13_Snapseed
The empty plant holders represent the emptiness of her soul

As usual, I’m saving my favorite shot for last. In spite of her contention that photography is easy, I did quite a bit of work on this shot to get it just how I wanted it – especially since I know that soon, sadly, this orange wall will disappear (she is, however, keeping the ironwork on the windows, I’m assuming to keep out photographers or people without money). I wanted to make the sky and concrete as white as the building, and get the oranges to really pop, including the orange line in the middle of the road. In order to do that I desaturated everything except the oranges, and made the blacks darker to contrast. I didn’t think much of this shot before processing, but the more I worked on it the more excited I got about its potential. Sure, I could have framed it better, but I still really like the way it came out.

katy11_Snapseed
That’s the director walking down the stairs. I assume she’s thinking, I don’t know what that chick across the road is doing with that camera, but it sure isn’t art!

I thought about editing the power line out of the shot, but decided against it in the end. I kind of like it being there; it draws an interesting line and adds something of the mundane to the scene. Okay, not really – I was just too lazy.

Stupor Bowl

Taking a break from my usual photographic musings to say this: thank you, people in this country who are incensed over the singing of a patriotic song in languages other than English, for reminding me why I consider the Super Bowl, football in general, and practically all competitive sports to be not only mindless entertainment but also violent, hateful, and mean-spirited. This whole attachment of individual or collective egos to sports teams has baffled me since I was a child – who gives a crap which arbitrary “side” manages to do the appropriate things with balls of various sizes – and I will continue to avoid the whole damn circus, thankyouverymuch.

I realize that only about 10% of the nation that watched that dumb game took to the Internets in an ignorant ripple of racist hatred, but to my mind, it’s an extension of the us-vs-them mentality that provides entertainment to those who enjoy being whipped into a hateful frenzy against some Other way more than they enjoy supporting the home team (not to mention the hate they’ll heap on the home team if they don’t perform up to their standards). Experiencing my father watching football as child was so stressful I came to avoid venturing anywhere near the television on Sundays – and according to him, he actually enjoyed going through that stress week after week, until his team disappointed him for another season.

I, on the other hand, was so non-competitive as a child, it  made my parents nervous. Like most kids, the question I asked more than any other as a child was, why? And when asking that question about participating in a competition of any kind – be it athletic, academic, or other – about eight times out of ten the answer was, for no good reason whatsoever. The other two times, I’d suit up and give it a whirl, but that was pretty rare.

I remember it used to bug the hell out of my mother that every morning in elementary school, when the teachers came outside at first bell and held up their hands so we could line up behind them and be escorted into school single-file, I’d stand back until my entire class had gotten in line and then fall in at the end. “Why do you do that every day?” my mother would ask repeatedly, “Do you always have to be dead last in line?” My answer was perfectly logical: we had assigned seats in the classroom. Jostling and pushing my way towards the front of the line served absolutely no purpose. To this day, I’m pleased with this approach to life, and I think I was a  smart kid not to bother scrapping and pushing just because societally that’s what I was supposed to do, but I’m sure my poor mother thought I’d end up a speed bump in the slow lane of life, getting run over by even the laziest of drivers.

And yet – I turned out just fine. But back to the football. I’ve been asking myself why about sports fanaticism since high school, when our entire campus was mandated to hate some certain school for being a certain number of miles away and hosting a certain sort of student that at some point in our school’s history it had been determined we didn’t like. I have yet to get an answer other than for no good reason whatsoever (and yes, that includes the Olympics, shocking and horrid as that may be).

I don’t have any conclusion to this beyond re-sharing the following:

football

Pixlr Post

A real quick update to share a few pics I Pixlr-d last night. Today I get my hair done after three more months of growing, so I plan to take some pics of the new length later as well as document my marathon gift-wrapping session I’ll have to have this evening. Turns out we are not going to visit the in-laws out of town this year due to health reasons on the part of my father-in-law and my sister-in-law; everyone’s OK, but in need of rest and calm so we’re keeping it low key this year. That does mean I have to box up all their gifts and get them shipped off, so that’s also on my list today. I’m also going to meet up with some friends for lunch and run a few errands (we got the dogs groomed last week at a new place, and unfortunately, although they did a wonderful job, cutting Sprocket down too close irritated his skin and he’s itching like crazy, so it’s off to Petsmart for some salve).

My favorite store ModCloth had a big 50% off sale over the weekend, so I’ve got 3 or 4 orders coming from them – some gothic stuff to use in photos as well as some tulle ballerina-like skirts and dresses to play around in, as well as some regular clothes (not that I needed any). And yes, I bought yet another pair of Uggs, but these are a dull metallic gold (not a crazy shiny gold), and when it’s cold outside, I don’t know – I just go crazy over these ugly-ass boots and how warm and cozy they are. So, in closing I’ll share a few photos then go throw on a pair of Uggs and get my grown-out roots to the hairdressers for a trim and dye job. Happy day before Christmas Eve, everyone!

notme3
This one is my favorite; I love it because I don’t think it looks anything like the regular me

notme2
Eh, I wanted to do more with this, but nothing worked

notme1
Now that I look at this, I’m pretty sure I edited this photo once before already, but I can’t find it

Thankful Collage

First of all, I’m thankful to the Pixlr blog for making one of my recent photos their Pic of the Day!

picoftheday

Also, someone I follow on Flickr made a collage representing things he was feeling thankful about this Thanksgiving. I liked the idea, but hit a snag because, as I’ve mentioned here before, I tend not to take photos when around friends or family or important events, because I get too absorbed in taking pics and forget to socialize and play nice with others. So I had to get a bit imaginative with some of the photos to be sure they represented the people and things to which I wanted to give thanks, but didn’t necessarily have a photo to show.

collage_thanks

1. My father and I at the air show; 2. Making new friends; 3. Reuniting with old friends; 4. Family (represented by my nieces); 5. RIP Ramone (thankful for 14 years with your sweet self); 6. Doug; 7. Sprocket and Penny, of course; 8. Summer vacation on Canyon Lake; 9. Simon, of course

This is really only the tip of the iceberg, but I got the idea to do this late and didn’t have time to snap photos of some the things I would have liked to include (like my master’s degree, for example). And I didn’t know how to represent everyone who comes and reads my blog posts and comments, because I am thankful for all of you too.

And yes, I used Pixlr to create the collage.What else?