So, I've come to a realization

Field near my parents' home

that I'm an artist.  I mean I guess I've always known it, but I've never really said it.  Until today...

I was talking with a co-worker about a frame that someone left as a takeaway in our corporate kitchen.

I said, "Well, I took it because I'm a Photographer and I'm always looking for frames."

Internally, I gasped and chastised myself.  What?!  A Photographer?!  Who are you kidding?!

Then I thought.  I am. I am a Photographer.  Maybe I'm not getting paid, but I am.  I.  AM.

So there's that.  Maybe I'm faking it until I make it, but I've been told so much lately about how fantastic my photos are, that maybe I should really think about this.

Sure, I have a lot to learn, but hell, who doesn't?  

I am a Photographer.

I am an artist.  

Photography

Photography has been a love of mine since I can remember.  My first camera was one of those chintzy 110 cameras.  I would shoot roll after roll after roll.  I have no idea what happened to most of the pictures.

The love had gone a bit dormant until I ended up at BlogHer last year.  I sat in on one of the photography sessions and fell in love all over again.  Seeing all of those beautiful snaps rekindled my love for the art.

I bought my first DSLR in October 2010 and have barely put it down since.  Now I'm going through memory card after memory card.

Recently I signed up for the Superhero Photo E-Course with Andrea Scher.  It's only two days in, but I'm loving it.

Besides the shot above, here are some of my favorites so far.

 

Weekend

Brought to you by good friends, pick-up volleyball (keep away) games,a feisty cat, goofy dog, dancing on the lawn, and general tomfoolery…

While all hell broke loose on the internets yesterday (I was hacked… again…), hubs and I were visiting with old friends.

The day started with a water gun fight and it ended with me spiking a large plastic ball into a baby’s face.  Yup… Not on purpose.  Yes, she’s ok.  It was a thin plastic ball and I’m a wimp so it didn’t hit that hard.  Yes, I feel horrible. 

 

It’s always great to get together with our BFFs.  We’ve known each other for years.  They don’t mind that I look like I have a camera growing out of my face. 

Even the cat doesn’t mind.  Or maybe she does.

I just love that face.  He’s only 8 months old.  We played a game where I would blow at his face.  He would run around and then come back for more.  It was the funniest thing in the world, at the time.  I think I needed a nap.

There had to be a flower shot in here somewhere. 

This week, hubs and I will be getting ready for our trip to Key West.  I’m looking forward to filling my camera up with pictures of palm trees and the ocean.

Have a good week!

Where I'm From

I was inspired to do this template by Schmutzie.  It is a template from Fred First Floyd.  You can read the story and complete the template here.  It really does turn out some amazing stuff. 
Here we go.

Where I'm From

I am from the old, rusty red, white, and blue swing set, from Ace Bandages and Calamine Lotion.

I am from the big white house on the hill, the dirty city, and the rolling Alleghenies that always call you home with their sweet summer smells and cold, cold winters.

I am from the lily of the valley, the hardy mountain laurel, the rose bush that always springs new growth from old wood.

I am from family get-togethers and grudges, from John and Gail, and Alfred and Ida, and a difficult cousin.

I am from jealousy and confrontation.

From what reflection I was to my parents and what an angel I wasn't.

I am from God and all of the challenges of faith.

I'm from Pennsylvania and the Scottish Highlands, fine roasted beef and Yorkshire pudding smothered with homemade gravy.

From the many broken bones, cuts and bruises of Cousin Andy Ritchie who was careless and free spirited, the childless Aunt Ida who was a grandmother to me until she forgot who I was, and the invisible, tap-dancing cat of my Uncle Bill.
I am from the old cardboard box, under a well-used bed, dragged out every few years.

An open letter to public restroom users of the female persuasion

Women are pigs.  Yeah, I said it.  Women are pigs in a public restroom. 

You can make available all of the toilet seat covers in the world.  Women will still pee all over the seats and leave it for the next person to deal with.  You've got a toilet seat cover, SIT DOWN!  Unless, of course, the pig before you left feces all over the seat.  I've seen it.  It happens.

You do not have to use an entire industrial-sized roll of toilet paper each time you wipe.  You're killing trees, not to mention you're clogging the toilet for the next user.  I am by no means encouraging you to shake it off (though I'm convinced some people do) or use one square, but you do not have to cover your arm up to your elbow, for God's sake. If you drop a square on the floor, PICK IT UP.  I should not have to check my shoes when I leave the stall.

You do need to wash your hands, but you DO NOT need to splash water all over the vanity.  If you do, wipe it off.  There is no reason why I should have to have the tell-tale sink line across my crotch because you can't clean up after yourself.

You do need to make sure that your used paper towel is in the trash can.  I do not clean up after people at home and I'm sure as hell not going to clean up after a stranger.

Please follow these simple rules.  I will call a bitch out for bathroom indiscretions.  I've done it before and I will do it again.

Thank you for your attention.

Love,
Me

Wordless Wednesday

Let me hold your bags, will you?

I don't claim to be psychic, but I definitely have the ability to pick up on others' feelings all the time from time to time. I am able to feel what other people are feeling and most of the time I take it into myself and don't realize that they are not my feelings.

I don't like to go to places where there are large groups of people because it's overwhelming on so many levels. I can usually tell when someone is in a bad mood without them saying a word.  Yeah... Yeah... body language... but it's much more than that.  I can just tell.  Normally I try to stay away from those people until they work their shit out.  Sometimes it's unavoidable.

On the other hand, I am a Paranormal Investigator so it definitely comes in handy during investigations.  Sometimes, things just get weird.

I was on an investigation this past weekend and the entire evening I was stressing and thinking that I left my car lights on and that I would get into my car at 3am and the battery would be dead.  I don't know how many times I walked around the house to the edge of the porch and checked my car, each time knowing that the lights were off.  (But where they really off the last twelve times I checked and I just couldn't tell because  of the way the streetlight was shining.)


When we were all packed up and ready to go, I gave strict orders to another investigator that he was not to leave until I had turned my car on and was ready to go.  I got to the car, turned it on and it turned over.  I was so relieved.  I drove home (checking my back seat twelve thousand times to make sure I didn't have any hitchhikers), pulled in, and went to sleep.

The next day what do I find, but another investigator that had carpooled had to be jumped when he got back to another investigator's home.  He had left his lights on and his battery died while we were at the investigation.

Coincidence?  Maybe.

Maybe not.