Da Goddess

(Part I is a bit lost somewhere back a couple years.)

Anyhow, Rick Estrin and the Nightcats also performed at Doheny Blues Festival. I had to take a shot at getting close to the stage for a few photos. Rick saw me and winked. I giggled. (I swear, I’m such a child sometimes.) Later, when I ran into him he said, “Hey, Angel, how you doin’ these days?” That’s what he calls me. I let him. It amuses us both. I doubt he remembers my real name or even the number of times we’ve met. Doesn’t matter. We both laugh.

That’s pretty much a standard rule I have with any of the artists. They can call me whatever name they like as long as it’s something nice. They don’t have to remember my true name. Or that we’ve met once, twice, sixteen, or thirty times. For the most part, blues artists are wonderfully kind and respectful and I try my best to present them in a good light because of this.

Not me, Elvin Bishop.

I just fooled around by running over to see three minutes of his show, take four photos, run back to another stage and take 100 photos, only to run into Elvin at the festival booth doing autographs. I had nothing for him to sign, but I did shake his hand and thank him for music I’ve grown up loving.

It’s birthday week. There’s all sorts of great big fun happening to celebrate an event that, technically, I had little to do with. Seriously, I just showed up and everyone oooh’d and aaah’d and I cried, ate, pooped, peed, and slept for a few months after. Kind of the way this week has felt.

Went to the Spring Open House at school for LD last night (meaning Wednesday). Met girlfriend #1. Talked to two teachers, including one who has proven to be a major topic of discussion amongst the gals chattering about our upcoming reunion. Told him he’d have to show up to shed some light on the stories, to which he begged off. I don’t blame him.

Afterwards, our friends took us out to dinner to celebrate that whole “welcome to the world” thing back in 1966. Unlike that original celebration, we focused on real food. They said, “where do you want to go?” I replied, “Outback!” “Didn’t we go there last year?” “Yeah, what’s your point?” “Was that the last time YOU’D been?” “Yep.” “Oh, my…” So Outback was a done deal after Open House. There was a quick stop over at the cruise night to say hi to my dad and his friends. (Luckily everything’s going on in the same parking lot.) Not only did I say hi to my dad, LD saw yet another dog he fell in love with and wants terribly (NOT GONNA HAPPEN HERE, DUDE), and then one of the car couples asked if I’d be free to do a wedding shoot. I got their info and took into consideration the amount they wanted to spend, thought about who I could get to shoot with me for next to nothing, and the amount of time I’d have to put into producing gorgeous photos, and there was this other bit of info: they’d asked my brother-in-law and he quoted them a price I know is lower than he normally would have quoted. I’d kind of feel like a massive backstabber if I were to now quote less than him on a job where I’m not sure I can even find someone to help me shoot. While I was scrambling to do laundry and figure out how to keep my son from outgrowing everything we own, I contemplated every scenario of how I could TRY to shoot on my own, realized I couldn’t, and even more, I couldn’t do nearly the job my brother-in-law could do, so why would I even put myself in that situation? Maybe I could get some high school kid to come help. That wouldn’t be bad, right? I’d still have to process images on my own and come up with an album. Extra, of course. Same with prints. But the bro-in-law thing keeps doggin’ me and I just don’t want to make him feel like I’m chasing him around and taking his fall off. What could possibly go wrong there? Oh, and by the way, what the hell happened to Aaron Hotchner at the end of Criminal Minds last night? And who got eliminated on Make Me A Supermodel? (These things matter even more when your world makes less sense than normal.) But back to the important stuff: what could go wrong?

A million things.

Then there was a wedding I was supposed to assist on this weekend. It starts earlier than I can get everything together. I’ve already missed an assist with this amazingly patient photographer. Do I ditch all the morning plans for dressing graves? Rush through the morning? Dump LD off at his grandmother’s house early? Race home, shower, dress, grab gear, race out to the church, race back to my neck of the woods for the reception? And then collapse? Or do I acknowledge this pushing the limits of my scheduling and physical abilities? The photographer is being VERY understanding. But how many times will she say, “no worries, I have it covered” before she decides she won’t use me? That’s my big worry.

Thankfully we spent a lot of time on the phone yesterday and she really does sound okay with it. I still worry though. And now I worry that my other referrals received yesterday will now somehow fall through. I worry because I care and I feel Murphy breathing down my neck.

In the middle of all this, I’m attempting to work on my gig calendar for the blues thing and guess what? I lost my most current database. The one with all the lovingly corrected venues and phone numbers and names and such. GONE! GONE! GONE! My already complicated job has now turned into a major nightmare. My panic level went from Stationary Panic. To Modified Stationary Panic. Then to Standing Modified Stationary Panic. And then I went into Full Bore Linear Panic. I started tearing through every single folder on my computer. I did search after search and and and found what I thought was the right database and it turned out not to be. So I started crying. But I tried again. I re-entered the search term and dug deeper. Finally, I found the database I needed buried in my PSP Brush and Vector Art folder. I sniffled and sobbed a bit, then I quickly threw up the popcorn I’d made for my ill-thought-out dinner. It has taken me 8 full hours to arrive here. And I feel strung out like I’d been on some alcohol and drug binge. None of this brings me any closer to having STARTED on the actual calendar itself. I just know where it is. There’s a bad taste in my mouth. My heart is just almost back to a normal rhythm. And it’s past my bedtime. I have physical therapy in the morning.

Yes, REAL PHYSICAL THERAPY! I’m considering asking for a visit to a mental health specialist after today. When I get home from PT, I’ll have to pop some pain pills and plow through the calendar thing that should have already been done but isn’t. I’ll also have to get down, get funky, and get on with my own bad self and finish my article. Can’t remember if there’s review or two needed, too. All while I try to remember getting the boy from school and prepared for the dressing of the graves on Saturday. And then? We’re not exactly done figuring out that part just yet.

Through an act of God, last night’s problem with my roommate, which went unblogged for whatever reason, seems to be taken from Defcom 2 back down to Defcom 3 4. LD is now safe to return. And I can’t do much of anything with him as I tippity tip tap away to get everything off my plate that I possibly can.

Oh, there was also a concert I was supposed to shoot for the artist Friday night. Can’t get to it because the car will be off doing something with pizzas and money. Artist duly notified and understanding. Thank God!

I actually finally took a step or sixteen back from it all tonight and grabbed a bag of Kisses (a birthday gift) and began to eat. I had to balance the salt from the popcorn, no? Once the sugar and chocolate kicked in, I realized that I just had to trust in God things would work out as they are supposed to. as they have with His Loving Guidance and YOUR generous giving for my OpLove deal. You all so totally rock!

Thank You, Lord, for keeping me in line, for giving me perspective. I can deal now.

So now I sit here briefly enjoying the few moments before my Ambien really kicks in and I drift off to some insane dream in which my breasts are pert and firm once again, where my ass isn’t nearly as joyful (read: dimply and smiley), and where my eyes shine bright green without the weary, irritated redness that has taken up residence the last few days. In this dream, I’m sure to be a smokin’ hottie on a beach I’ve never seen before, wooed by some Adonis I don’t know. We’ll hang out with movie stars and captains of industry, and penguins, cheetahs, and miniature orangutans that will braid my hair and conduct the orchestra of armadillos. I can’t wait. I can feel it already starting to happen.

Oh, and dream or no dream, I can read and fold a map, Scott: “All that satellite garbage is nice and all, makes girls feel like they know where they’re going”. I don’t get GPS for shit. But I can read, follow, and refold any damn map you hand me. Get yer ass out here and I’ll prove it. Better still, take me out and plunk me down in the middle of Texas and I’ll prove it there, too.

By the way, one reason I don’t want to go around undercutting my brother-in-law or another photographer I know on shoots I know they prefer to do is that I believe in Karma. Karma, for lack of a better example at the moment, is exactly what’s biting Ryan Leaf’s sorry butt right about now. From my friends in the know, this was a long time coming.

Now I just wait for karma to catch up to Eli Manning.

I finally managed to get the photos from May 7, 2009 uploaded to Flickr for your viewing enjoyment. I am not present in a single photos. Neener neener! I keep hearing about some video, but I’m paying gremlins to destroy that and leave only audio as proof of my existence. Anyhow, until that surfaces, here are photos of other people.

Thanks again to Mel, Charity, and all the other moms, women, a dad, and our service staff at Buster’s Beach House & Longboard Bar and the folks at Seaport Village for making all this happen!

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Also a photo could be inserted here. At which time, you would all oooooh and awwww and leave pleasing comments and lay money at the blogger’s feet. Because the photo would move you in ways unexpected. And because said blogger needs to be able to purchase a rather large quantity of 4×6 or 5×7 albums for an upcoming ginormous pre-deployment shoot (or two) for some Marines and their families. Not only that, she must also print 20-30 photos for said albums for said Marines so that they have a little lifeline to home.

(Tip jar on right sidebar works exactly as one would expect it should if this were a real post. Please throw all spare change in its way. The blogger would appreciate it greatly.)

All joking aside: With Memorial Day Weekend closing in on us, what better way to honor those who have come and gone by honoring those who have stepped into their combat boots and begun their march toward the American Way. San Diego has two large pre-deployment photo sessions coming up for our military and their families. Supplies are needed. Each Marine or Sailor deployed must receive an album 4×6 or larger (6×6 is the largest that fits into pockets on camo pants I hear), that can hold up to 30 photos. The books must be sturdy as they serve as a lifeline between the deployed and those left at home. Each photographer is then also responsible for sendng the completed book to wherever the person is deployed. The families pay not a single cent.

did tell you I’d ask you for help when the time came. The time has come. Our first big shindig is in two and a half weeks and I must have my portion of the albums paid for prior to that time. What better time to ask than just before Memorial Day Weekend?

Also of note, this weekend, the Cigar Marine will be participating at the Glen Abbey Memorial Park in Bonita on Monday, May 25.

For those of you wondering why I’m getting involved with Operation: Love Reunited before my own personal finances are stable, go to Nick Popaditch’s website and you’ll understand. Each man and woman who deploys faces the unknown. I feel it’s my duty to give them an hour or two of family fun captured in photos to keep at their sides when they’re going into areas that are likely unsafe. I want them to feel the love and the power and the pride of the MANY who stand proudly behind them.

The album, it’s just a placeholder for the hearts of the people a Marine, Sailor, Airman, or Soldier. But it’s a placeholder with meaning. Not just for them, but also for me, for the other photographers, and for the community at large.

Anticipated expenses per family session are $15. If I shoot 25 families each time, that’s 50 families at $15/each and that comes in at $750 outlie for me. I don’t have it.

Why? Why would I even attempt this if I don’t have the money? Well, for one simple reason: for every family watching someone get on a boat or a plane and heading off to the unknown, they don’t know if there will be someone coming back or not. But they will have the memories of the session. The deployed will have their beautiful faces to keep him or her company when they are frightened, when they feel there’s no hope. It’s worth asking for help from you to give them that. I can do the photography. I can capture those memories. I can print and assemble and mail the albums off as long as I have your help. And I can be here if someone finds themselves in need of a shoulder to cry on. That’s what I can do. And I’m also going to include in every album a thank you note signed by me and in honor of those who have donated to make this possible.

What can you do?

* Pam’s daughter Tonie is going to donate a Creative Memories Album for one lucky donor! If you make a donation to this effort, please make sure you leave a comment. Between today and July 7, 2009 (gives me plenty of time to purchase all the albums before the first big event on the 13th), leave a comment after you’ve made your donation. Your comment will be numbered and all the comments will go into the hopper. A number will be selected and the winner will receive this special Creative Memories Album.

Deadliest Catch is on tonight!

Just sayin’.

Final run for king crab tonight. Gotta find out who hits big and who hits a snag.

LD and I are ready. I think we’re going to make some snacks and settle in for a good evening of TV. Gotta get myself in an Alaska state of mind.

Angels come in all shapes and forms. Some are more potent than others. Some are mere spectres of the past. And some are simply dreams we can’t quite reach. A lot like ghosts, which I don’t consider bad. But it’s up to us to keep angels as they are and not allow them to turn dark (I hesitate to use the word “demon” because of that blasted movie in theaters at the moment, but if I must, well, just try to keep up and don’t make me go there). In other words, believe in your angels and don’t let their presence throw you into a tailspin. They’re here to help.

While chose one Stevie Nicks angel tune, I immediately thought of another, from the Tusk album, simply called “Angel“. Of course, that reminded me of her “Beautiful Child“, which, to me, is about longing and that one relationship that somehow takes you from the little girl love to real love, or what you hope is real love. (It reduces me to tears nearly every time.) I somehow always build a story about the tune in that it’s really about Stevie and Lindsey, or was it really about Stevie and Mick? It was just as confusing to me as my own first love was and how every relationship can be. Heartachingly maddening. And yet, you just keep seeking, reaching, trying because that’s what we humans do.

I guess it’s no wonder that yesterday’s haiku touched on this theme. (Oh, you don’t know about those? That’s okay. It’s just something I do.) And so, without shame, I copy myself and give you the haiku from yesterday to fulfill Deb’s fiendish assignment:

As your lips near mine
My brain goes into meltdown
Tongue tied wordless want

I think we’ve all pretty much been there at one time or another, no? And it was only in writing this post that I realized the first line of the haiku sounds remarkably like part of “Beautiful Child”.

To my haiku dealer: damn you! It’s the new crack. To Deb: damn you! Same thing with PROMPTs! And for whoever can find me the entire Buckingham Nicks album on CD plus “Gold & Braid”, “Smiling Islands”, “Garbo”, and two minutes with Stevie Nicks? I will marry you.

It’s very hard for me to start writing anything related to Stevie Nicks or Fleetwood Mac because one word can easily become 7,000. And that’s a conservative estimate. All songs are connected for me. “Beautiful Child” connects seamlessly (in my mind) to “When I See You Again” (from Tango in the Night), which then has a story (and an edit from me — I heard that song take different form as it was being sung). And that story ultimately leads elsewhere. Like the time I could have sworn I saw Mick Fleetwood at Burger King in LAX. So, please believe me when I say y’all got off easily this time.

Today, I’m officially 43. No longer am I the answer to everything. Instead, I feel blessed for everything I’ve experienced.

Life isn’t all smooth and silky. There are bumps along the way. There are tears. There’s blood and guts and all sorts of unpleasantness. But you know what? There are also smiles, laughter, sunsets, sunrises, friends, lovers, mysteries to be explored, things to see, and all sorts of other things that make it interesting and many times exhilarating! You have to embrace it all. As has been said numerous times, if you’re ever going to see a rainbow, you have to stand a little rain.

Me? I’m a dance in the rain kind of gal. Not always, but I try. I’m going to keep at it, too, as long as I possibly can.

Last night, my mom made dinner for me. She worried over every little bit, especially because she ended up not feeling so well or so steady, and then fussed because I finished cooking up some of the components. Honestly, I didn’t mind. I was worried about her and it seemed like such a simple thing to pull the chicken out of the oven, to boil up the noodles, and to steam the broccoli. Then she fretted because she hadn’t made me a homemade dessert. THEN she fretted even more because she’d forgotten that I can’t eat strawberries and she bought those, along with an angelfood cake. After repeated “stop! Everything’s fine” admonishments from me, she finally settled down and we enjoyed the meal. It was wonderful.

She’d invited my dad over. A very rare thing. And very sweet. When dinner was done, he actually even helped clear the table. Everyone then retired to the living room while I did dishes. Mom was a wreck over that and all I could think (and say) was how nice it was to be able to clean up the kitchen for her. It was like a present I gave to her that she gave to me, if that makes any sense.

Speaking of presents, she gave me the prettiest little glass heart. I’ll have to photograph it for you. I was planning on doing that anyway, so you’ll just have to wait and see.

At the last minute, she exclaimed that she had another gift for me. It’s actually something she gave to LD a while back (she’s been rather forgetful lately, but then again, she’s really not feeling well). It was a picture she painted of him from a photograph I took. She had it framed for us and she even included the third place ribbon she won at the county fair. I love it. I love it all! The dinner, the evening, the gifts, hearing a slightly rowdy game of cards (followed by Scrabble) in the other room, each and every bit of it.

While I had originally been hoping to score a ticket to the second day at Doheny so I could see B.B. King yesterday, I’m really glad I was with my family instead. The only thing missing was Mojo and I know I’ll catch up with her this week some time.

As for Doheny on Saturday, well, let’s just say this: it was fantastic! I took over 700 photos. I know not all of them turned out and I’m okay with that. I was belly up to two stages, and not nearly as close as I would have liked to the other. Considering I got in free? I’m happy. The people? Most people were really great, some weren’t so much. Kind of like that mixed bag you get with life, so too are the crowds at music festivals. All I know is that one day I will have a photo pass to Doheny. Just you wait and see. One way or another, I will get it. Until then, I’ll volunteer for a shift at a booth. This year? Oh man, I got to work with three of the nicest gals ever. They were so much fun! Stories. Jokes. Lemon vodka shots snuck in under the table or behind a wall of people. There was one point where we were laughing so hard…I can’t even remember why. And that’s often the best kind of laughter.

I saw: Brian Setzer & The Nashvillains, The Keb’ Mo’ Band, Elvin Bishop with special guest John Németh, Grace Potter & The Nocturnals, John Hammond, Rick Estrin & The Nightcats, Sven Zetterberg, Cedric Burnside & Lightin’ Malcolm, Big Sandy & The Fly-Rite Boys, Whiteboy James & The Blues Express, and The 44’s. I missed out on Gregg Young and also missed San Diego’s own Taryn Donath (I did, however, hear the crowd’s response to her — which you wouldn’t think possible where I was — and it was overwhelming), but I couldn’t see and do everything. Admittedly, I only got to see a bit of a couple of the bands, though not for lack of trying. I knew who I really wanted to see and made the most out of the opportunities available to me. Except for one. Which is a rather funny story. Maybe someday I’ll tell it, likely when I’m even older and less in control of my mind.

Anyhow, I’m happy things turned out as they did. 43 is a good number. It’s not 42, but it ain’t dead either, so I figure I’m coming out ahead on this deal*.

* One of my movie quotes of all damn time.

I couldn’t help but fall in love with this little boy when I saw him in the midst of an impromptu mandolin lesson. Isn’t he adorable? His grandmother is also a mandolin student and she proudly stood off to the side, smiling and applauding his efforts.

His teacher is a man I’ve met before. He’s an excellent musician and it’s always a delight to see him. The last photo isn’t so hot compositionally, but that leg just killed me. How stinkin’ cute is that?

I sure hope I run into this kid again. He was awesome.

Seven years ago I started this blog. Well, not THIS exact blog, but the one that morphed into what you see here today. I started out on Blogger, was moved to Movable Type by Hoopty Mike (remember him? Anyone? Anyone?), moved to my own MT blog, tried another platform (briefly!), and eventually realized that WordPress was the place for me (thank you, Temple).

Over the years, I’ve met some really wonderful people. Some are still around, some have made grand reappearances (DEB! DAWN! JONI! PAM!), some have left the world of blogs for other things (Smash, for one), and sadly, some are no longer with us except in memory (Rob). There were a few missteps, but we all have those. Frenemies, blog wars, whatever. Funny how those fade quickly when you have good people around you and you stop caring about where you rank in the blogosphere, focusing instead, on the good and the things that matter most to you.

I remember the days before blogosphere rankings. I remember the days before SiteMeter. I remember…and I’m so grateful that anyone still bothers to read what I have to say.

I guess I should confess something to you. I’m writing this a little over two months in advance. Why? Because I’ll forget. Yeah. I totally will! I will be so caught up in a million wonderful little details in my life that I will actually forget my blogiversary and it’ll pass in the blink of an eye while I’m off playing with a kid or two and my camera. Or perhaps I’ll be off photographing bands and sweating like a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. Whatever. That’s a good thing!

It just wouldn’t be right to miss out on taking a moment to thank all of you for keeping me going, encouraging me when things got dark. Thank you! Thank you for your friendship, your kindness, your love, and for just being you! You know who you are. Yes, you do. And I love you all so dearly. That’s the truth.

Now, as my gift to you, I ask that you click that little x up in the right hand corner, shut down the computer, grab the hand of the nearest person, and go soak up some life! Drink it in and really enjoy your day. I’ll be here tomorrow, the next day, the day after that, and so will you. And we can exchange stories about May 16th then.

Here’s to the first seven years! Woo hoo!

If I could inhabit another photographer’s body for just a year of his/her life while he/she were at some prolific phase, I’d pick Avedon. Apropos in that he was born on May 15, 1923, if one must work that way.

A typical Taurus with an artistic bent, Avedon pursued his passion with a broad eye. It mattered not where he was, he found beauty all around him. Dignity, too.

From Audrey Hepburn to the farmer’s daughter; from William Casby, a former slave, to Muddy Waters, a former sharecropper turned King of Chicago blues; from Buster Keaton to Marilyn Monroe; from Klansmen and protesters to those in government in charge of policy like Kissinger and the Kennedy clan; he covered it all. And he did it with a style all his own. He found something to connect to in each of his subjects, even if his subjects included elephants and snakes. One of the most telling images is not necessarily the image itself, but rather the placement of it in his home: a dirty oilfield worker Roberto Lopez from the American West series; Lopez, haggard after a long day at work, hangs in a corner overlooking a shrine of religious images, as if the physical toiling on earth is just as necessary as the emotional preparation that goes toward our salvation. Or that earthly existence is looking towards the next step. Maybe it’s that heaven is seen as so great because of the trials we face down here. I don’t know, but it struck me as powerful. Intentional or not, it was there.

In every photo, there was never any sense of exploitation or a hint of disdain. This man found a way to connect person to person and draw out something special and humane in them so that we might see it too.

If I could step into a time machine and be any photographer, I’d pick Avedon this time around.

At the same time, I pick Muddy Waters’ Hard Again, the cover of which Avedon shot, “Mannish Boy’s” opening words, “Everything… everything… everything gonna be all right this mornin’…”

I may never be Richard Avedon, and I’ll never be Muddy Waters, but my camera and I will be up at Doheny Blues Festival tomorrow enjoying the day thanks to a few volunteer hours turning into a free ticket. Too bad I’ll miss B.B. King on Sunday. Couldn’t get that volunteer shift, nor could I afford the ticket. No worries. “Everything… everything… everything gonna be all right this mornin’…”

While I’m there tomorrow, I’ll catch up with those I know and share the photos I’ve taken of them. And I’ll take more.

Avedon or not.

Fix-It Friday returns to Da Goddess. Here are my entries. Yes, two. Because there were a couple different ways I interpreted this image. There’s always more than one way to skin a cat. Or mangle someone else’s photo.

Original image

“Fixed” image #1

“Fixed” image #2

Steps using PSP Pro Photo X2 Ultimate:
1) Adjusted levels, maintaining that overexposed feeling so as not to darken the face and/or lose detail there. Plus, I really like it in this image.
2) With Nik Color Efex 3.0, I used the warmth/brilliance adjustment at 65% to warm it just a bit, followed by the Foliage effect #2 at 50% to give the tulip stems a little bump.
3) With PSP X2’s Time Machine effect, I went into Cross Process at 10%. Not too much to overwhelm the image, but just enough to draw a bit more color forward.
4) Film and Filters – Glamour at 21%. It’s a soft white glow, which adds to the dreaminess of the image.
5) Slight dodge across the face with a soft brush at 28% opacity.
6) Cropped it down to eliminate extra space.
7) Back in Time Machine – Daguerreotype at 30% on a separate layer, brought opacity of layer down to 70%.
Adjusted RGB levels to 22, 121, 255.
9) Erased a bit of the Dag layer on the face to bring back some brightness.
10) Added a vignette.
11) Added a couple of texture layers, minimizing opacity, and erasing texture over face (second altered image only).

Go check out the other edits and compare with mine. Let me know how you think I did.

Obviously the following photographs aren’t the greatest in the world, but they weren’t taken with some great artistic idea in mind. Instead, I was happy to have been able to snap them quickly as I was talking to the man who walks his cat in the park. Yeah, that guy. I know I’ve mentioned him before. The same one who I thought was trying to teach his cat how to catch a mouse (turns out he wasn’t, but that’s not the point of this post).

Anyhow, there was a very small window of opportunity to take some photos whilst I was talking with the cat man. Can you believe I didn’t ask his name? Next time. I know where he lives (now) and I know where he hangs out. I’ll ask next time.

Even more remarkable than the fact that this man walks his cat in the park is that there was this wonderful little jay who came to visit him. “Hi, Jay!” the man called. And the bird hopped down from the tree to the fence to visit with him. Right next to him. And the bird chattered and chirped along merrily right to the guy. The cat looked on with no real interest in the bird, but tensed up, ready to pounce as soon as a dog neared. Yes, the cat began to stalk the dog but ignored the bird. “Jay likes me because I feed him peanuts,” the man said. Apparently this is year two of their unusual friendship. Or perhaps, because of San Diego weather, it’s just a third or fourth season. The impression I was given was that this relationship has been ongoing.

I swear, I meet the most interesting people.

Also seen that day, my friend, Stan, who drew the attention of teenage girls on their way to prom. Said girls came over to ask if they could have their picture taken with a real cowboy.

Coming up tomorrow night: Mojo’s prom. She says she’s wearing a hot pink dress (her best friend’s gown from last year). She’s going with a guy “friend” (not a boyfriend — I think she’s done with those for a little while). I wish I could see her all decked out. I’ll ask for photos. Sigh. I hope she has more fun than I did. But not too much fun.

And I hope she has better photos taken.

Again, my apologies that these photos aren’t so great, but the moments were much more experiences and stories than photo opportunities. I’ll take snapshots and good stories over works of art any day.

It’s been one of those days.

Mommy’s actually considering a nap.

Dishes were done long ago.

Kid off to school.

Breakdown? Check.

An hour. All I ask is an hour of peace.

For those who are curious about the post below, you can always email me and ask “What’s Up, Buttercup?” in the subject line. I’ll share. Just be prepared to put your hip waders on.