It's A Movie

This week my photography project group was assigned It's A Movie for our theme.  I'll admit, at first I may have thrown up a little in my mouth.  I'm not a big fan of images that I have to set up and create.
Look at what's going on around you and shoot like crazy is what I always say.

Surprisingly, I had an immediately fabulous idea for my movie picture.  I told Prince Charming we needed to fly to Nevada, rent a car and then drive really slowly out of town so I could photograph us Leaving Las Vegas.

He said no.

Fine.  Really, I told him, all I needed him to do was stand outside so I could take a picture of him.

"It's pouring down rain....and there's lightening!  Did you just see that!?"

"I know.  You can be Rain Man."

He said no.

So, I asked my son to put on his sister's cowboy boots and hat and be Urban Cowboy.

He said, "No.  That hat is pink."

I told him I would probably do the picture in black and white so no one would know anyway.

He said, "Nooooooooo-wah."

I asked my daughter, my go to model of choice, if she'd put on her 147 articles of pink clothing and look at me all gorgeous like and be Pretty In Pink.

She said, "And what do I get?"

I said no.

I thought about making a Manhattan so it could be....well...Manhattan.
But food photography makes me gag.
(as does a Manhattan)

I figured that I would be able to find something movie-ish at my kid's football game, so while we waited in the stands for kick-off I started looking around.  Prince Charming said that I should wait until the lights came on, then take a full field shot and it could be Friday Night Lights.
Which, I told him, was stupid was because it was Saturday and Friday Night Lights was a TV show.
He got all highfalutin' and stuff and said,

"It won't matter what day it is in the picture.  No one will know that....and it was a movie before it was a TV show."

Oh, okay.  Mr. Moviefone.

"What?"

Whatever.

I did find a few movie worthy shots:

Field of Dreams

The Shining

Face-Off

or alternatively, The Grid Iron Gang

(but this game is still pissing me off so I refuse to have anything more to do with it)

Twilight

Here's a few others that I've shot recently that would totally make it if I didn't always feel so guilty about going in and manually changing the date they were taken
(the project group moderator is sticky about dates and only submitting new work taken that week)
(expand yourself and grow as a photographer)
(blah blah blah):

Swingers

Splendor In The Grass

Along Came A Spider

(I used this one last week, though, and everyone wigged 'cause it was a spider)

In the end, I promised my daughter a triple scoop ice cream sundae and a full hour of Fancy Nancy if she would let me drape her in tulle and walk her across the street to stand in the trees so I could get my friggin' movie picture. 

Prince Charming took one look at it and said,

"Pfft....Kinda' obvious, isn't it?"

"Only if you know what it is."

"Ghost."

Dang, I hate it when he gets it right.

8 Things That Made This A Great Summer

Summer vacation is almost over.
(*sigh*)
It seems like just yesterday I was grousing and complaining about the gaggy ending to the school year and just wanted it to be over.
My children are helping me adjust to the upcoming school year by doing everything they can to make me wish it would hurry up and get here already so I can enjoy some peace and quiet around the place again.
They're cooperative like that.

To celebrate the end of what has easily been our best summer vacation in years I made a list of the 8 things that made this summer great:

1.  The Lake
This will officially go down as the summer my son discovered the lake.  And that swimming in the lake about rules all.  You can run and scream and horse around in ways that you just can't when Grandpa has set up patrol on the pool deck.

2.  The Back Deck
Many years ago, after much begging and pleading and promising to be his best friend, Prince Charming installed French Doors for me in our living room.  They always looked so glamorous and classy on Days Of Our Lives and I was desperate to throw them open and step out onto my flower filled veranda and marry the love of my life whom I had thought was dead but had really just had a face transplant and now looked like someone else and went by a totally different name.  This summer that dream was realized. 
Just the flower filled veranda part, though.
(the love of my life thing happened a long time ago)
So, if I had to write an essay entitled Where I Spent My Summer, it would be this:

3.  Avocado Salad
Chop together a bunch of avocados, cucumbers, grape tomatoes, red onion, cilantro, and garlic.
Toss with lime juice and olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.
For a little extra punch, throw in some grilled shrimp.
(or some fresh jalapeno if you want to serve it to someone who says stuff like
"Yeah, no it's good....not too spicy though, is it?")
Enjoy for lunch on Sunday afternoon or for dinner on the sidelines at football practice.
Put it on fish tacos, scoop it up with tortilla chips, or eat it with your fingers while you sip margaritas
(if you're in to that kind of thing)
(which I am)
It's delicioso.
(Thank you to my sweet sister-in-law for posting it and inspiring my new favorite salad for the next forever.)

 

photo from Set Your Fat on Fire Fitness

4.  House of Cards, The Walking Dead, Scandal, Downton Abbey
Through a fluky click on my laptop, we ended up with Netflix streaming,
and now I speak to everyone with a slight British accent,
desperately want to go to Washington DC where all the nefarious people are,
and am terrified that at any moment an assemblage of zombies is going to silently appear out of nowhere and eat everyone I know.
It's awesome.

5.  The Island
Our 5th annual trip to visit friends who live on a small island on Puget Sound was one of the major highlights of our vacation months.  We did things and went places while we were there that we hadn't done before because the children were finally big enough for me not to have to follow them around and worry that they would fall off a rope swing and kill themselves.
Or get stuck in a tree, 3 feet above a slimy, shallow pond, that may
(or may not)
possibly have been filled with fish poop.

6.  S'mores
I love toasted marshmallows and I think I roasted more of them this summer than I have ever.
I love holding them over the hot coals and slowly turning the stick until the outside of the marshmallow gets all golden and crispy and melty.  Then I pull off the outer part that's done, eat it, and put the rest of it back over the heat.  Then I do that again until it's all gone.
Unless I'm in the mood to just set it on fire so that it gets all black and burned and flavorful in such a way that makes my toes curl.
Oooooooo.....decisions, decisions.

7.  The Princess Tea Party
Once upon a time Grandma discovered the Disney Store.
And the girlies played princess happily ever after.
And then they did it all over again when my niece came to visit, because what's a Princess Tea Party with Princess Jasmine?

8.  My Lensbaby
I fell in love with my Lensbaby this summer.  We hadn't really spoken in a couple of years.  It really wanted different things out of life, and I just wasn't prepared to go that way.  The last few months, though, really turned things around for us.  I don't know if it changed, or if I did, but we've reunited...and it feels so good.

I hope you had a great summer!

And I love ya'.

 

Project 52 2K13~ Week 33 {Anticipation}

I have no idea how this happened.
I was in no way prepared for this to happen.
I only went in to Target for yoga pants and toilet cleaner.

Then she asked if we get her backpack while we were there.
I told her we could look at them. 
Then she says, "Do you think we could get my school supplies?"
And I. Said.  Yes.

Before I realized what was happening, we were in the school supply aisle grabbing two boxes of crayons, and six white glue sticks, and 3 pocket folders with pictures of Minnie Mouse on them, and a glitter watercolor set
(because, why not?)
and 24 Ticonderogas....in a neon rainbow assortment. 
They were so pretty.  They were all so pretty.
So new and sharp and unblemished by time in a plastic box crammed into the back of a desk behind 47 crumpled pieces of paper, a stale, half-eaten package of fruit snacks, and the 2" poetry binder the teacher insisted we needed but stopped using after 5 weeks.
 
I was charmed. 
I was beguiled.
I was hypnotized with the beauty of it all.  
A set of fine-tip white board markers that perfectly match all the varying shades on the color wheel?  It doesn't get much more beautimous than that.
That's right.  I said beautimous.

Let me tell you something. 
As I sank deeper and deeper into that school supply abyss, adding 3 boxes of pre-sharpened colored pencils and a tape dispenser shaped like a hot pink high-heeled shoe that I would never in real life wear to our cart, I was not alone.
First she saw it, and then she grabbed it.  The backpack she'd be waiting all summer for, and didn't even know she wanted.  When she put that backpack on, felt that gray and pink padded nylon settle onto her shoulders, pulled out the matching lunchbox from the lunchbox-pocket built into the front, she knew. 
She knew the way you know about a good melon.
And she.  Did not.  Take.  It.  Off.
She wore it through the whole store for the entire rest of the time we were shopping.  The checker had to lean over the counter with her scan gun and paw through all the paper stuffed inside to find the price tag so she could ring it up.
She brought it home, filled it up, and kept right on wearin' it. 
Watched TV wearing it.
Ate dinner wearing it.
Played Monkey In The Middle after football wearing it.
She would have slept in it if I hadn't been able to convince her that she'd break the crayons if she rolled over on it in the middle of the night.

Forgive me, Summer, for I have sinned.
We bought school supplies.
And she is sooooooooooooooooooooooo excited for second grade.
(That's right.  I used 23 'o's.)
(She's THAT excited.)

A Watched Chicken Never Lays

I know what you're thinking.

That.  Is.  Not the Expression.

Which clearly indicates that you have never been to the Congo, because that is a Congolese proverb from way way back.
(Trust me.  I know.)
(Except that I didn't.  I had to look it up.)
(It's a true proverb.  I didn't just invent that.)

You can always tell when a chicken is getting ready to lay an egg.  It finds itself a nice little nesting spot in the coop, and then starts to buawk and squawk in decibels that rival that of a Guns & Roses concert,
(it's like having a baby, that way)
(except chickens do it EVERY DANG DAY)
which makes you run around the house closing all the doors and windows to shut out the racket, burying your head in the sand to the noise that is surely sending your neighbors into a tizzy, because this isn't a farm, you know.  There's an Applebee's right around the corner which would totally not be there if this was a farm.

Afterward, though, you're certain that you've got yourself a nice fresh dozen sitting out there.  So you send the kids out to collect them and they come right back in and say,

"No eggs yet, Mom."

You know why?  Because a watched chicken never lays.

A few mornings ago, Prince Farming walked into the kitchen carrying two white eggs, and said,

"I just watched the chickens lay these eggs."

I was immediately skeptical because he was lying.

"Yeah, I was just standing there watching and they started to lay, and then these eggs just popped out.  Right in front of me.  Right there."

He motioned with his flat hand outstretched in front of him to emphasize the 'right there' part.
Because, you know, he was lying.
Like a rug.

The idea of actually watching a chicken lay an egg is kind of...I don't know....revolting?  Not to be gross, but do you know where those eggs come out?  It's the same place that horses use to drop a steaming load on the sand, endlessly entertaining my children as to the bodily functions of the equine.

I feel like egg laying should be private.  No one really needs to see that.  Let the poor chickens lay their lot in peace. 

But.....There's always that moment when no one is around and curiosity gets the better of you.  One of the birds starts to squawk, and you think to yourself,

"I wonder....."

So, you slowly open the door, and tip toe ever so softly to the side of the coop, and stand as quiet as a little church mouse for a sweet forever, your feet freezing in the wet, morning grass, hoping to see something that will probably make you never want to eat eggs again.

And nothing happens.
That chicken just keeps buawking and squawking with its tail full of egg until its eyes pop out of its head and all its feathers explode like dynamite of its body.
That bird is not going to lay that egg.  Not while you're standing there, it's not.

You know why?

Because a watched chicken never lays.
That's all I'm sayin'.

Chasing Horses

About 38 days ago my daughter decided that horses were the end all be all of human existence.
(39 days ago she was all about dogs)
And that if she didn't see one in real life she would lay down on the floor and just die.

Being her mother I felt a certain amount of responsibility to ensure that didn't happen
(plus, the drama was giving me a headache)
so, we drove her down the beach to where the horses are available for hour-long riding rentals.

We found them walking up the beach.  We stopped, got out of the truck and stood on the sand to watch them walk by while she jumped up and down, squealing that her dream was finally coming true.

Then we got back in the truck, drove farther up the beach, stopped, got out, and watched them again.

(For the record, I don't know any of these people.)

(I know her, though.)
(Redheads Rule)

The mistake we made, of course, was not prepping her ahead of time for the fact that we were not planning to actually ride the horses.
(because window shopping is just as fun)
(yes it is)
(except the opposite)

And although she didn't actually die, she did cry,
and pout,
and sulk,
and do the Charlie Brown walk back to the truck.

Like any good mother, I tried to console her by showing her all the pictures I'd taken.

"Great."

I'm not sure she mean that, though, because as she got back into the truck I heard her scoff that we only cared about ourselves, and never wanted her to have any fun.

We'll be expecting the therapy bill in about 27 years.

The Princess Tea Party

 
Three little girls 

Were invited for tea.

Their fairy grandmother 

Had planned it with glee.

  She made them all wait,

And close their eyes.

They came in holding hands,

And found such a surprise.

Crowns and glass slippers,

Wands and three dresses.

They spent the afternoon

Becoming princesses.

The make-up was out,

The curling irons hot,

The girls squealed with excitement

As they all found their spot.

 The girls helped themselves,

As their mothers stood by,

And only once,

Got glitter in their eye.

When the princesses were ready

They sat down to try

The tea Grandma made

With their pinkies held high.

They posed for some pictures

And tried on some shades

 

Cinderella and Merida,

And a red-head mermaid.

The 5th Annual Island Day Extravaganza

I've spent the past 34 hours recuperating from our 5th annual family visit to my parents' friends' house.
Or as we call it "The Island".

When we first started going there, my daughter was 3 years old and I had to follow her around the forest trails to make sure she didn't step on a rock or fall into the pond or climb something nature only intended for monkeys and tree frogs and stuff.

I've matured a lot in the last 5 years and I felt much more at liberty on this go around to simply park the car, unlock the doors and say
"Go.  Come back when you're hungry,"
as they flounced off into the forest.

After a while we headed down to the dock for a boat ride.  I had decided not to partake.
(once your watch your lens plummet like a rock into the deep, dark fathoms of a lake from whence it will never be recovered, boats lose all appeal)
(don't ask me how I know that)
And while my maturity level is certainly higher than it was five years ago, it's not so high that I didn't have to remind my son 143 times to buckle his life vest and stay seated and quiet while the boat was moving.

"Mom, I know.  Okay?  Just stop worrying."

"No, but, you're the oldest so you need to set a good example.  Sit down...and hang on to your sister, and stay quiet so Frank can concentrate on driving."

"O-kay."
(and then he glanced around extremely conspicuously to see if anyone was watching)
(or could hear us)
(evidently, it's embarrassing when your mother loves you so much that she doesn't want you to fall off a motor boat and die)

As they pulled away from the dock and let the motor rip, my son threw his hands up over his head and yelled something that sounded like,
"YYYYEEEEAAAAHHHOOOOOO.  I'M FREE!!!!!"
I may have misheard that, though.  I'm sure I did.
The motor was very loud.
 

Turns out, they weren't just tooling around the water.  They were actually going over to another smaller island to romp around on the sand cliffs for a while.  And while I secretly wanted to flop down on the dock and soak up the sun in silence, I kind of felt guilty that my brother was the only other adult over on Sand Cliff Island with all of the kids.
But, then I remembered that he's a middle school PE teacher and he could totally handle it.
Plus, he used to scream and yell and mess up tons of crap when he was little and it was totally annoying and payback's a bitch.

As I was searching around for a towel to ball up under my head as a pillow, the boat came back.
The presence of the other adults was being requested.
So, I zip-tied my camera around my neck and headed out for the Island of Caterwauling Children.

They were floating in the water

and running on the rocks and climbing up a really steep hill to fight over who got the next turn on the rope swing.  My brother dared me to try to climb up the hill.
I pointed out to him that I am 42 and 3/4 years old and I don't have to do dares anymore.
And I was wearing my new sparkle flip-flops with absolutely no traction whatsoever.

"Yeah, like that would help."
 (Punk)

But, I decided not to care and instead focused on the fact that my children were trying to run and jump into a sitting position on a stick that was tied to a rope that had been hanging there at least 67 years, which then swung them out 30 feet in the air over Sharp Shards Of Shell Beach.

I gently reminded my son about taking turns and not letting go of the rope and killing himself.
He glared at me and made a slashing motion across his throat while he mouthed the word Stop through clenched teeth.
He followed with a few other slicing hand movements across his body that I think meant
Just calm the hell down!

So, I released and gave up, which actually made for a very relaxing rest of the visit.
While they jumped around the cliffs, I sat on a log sipping Diet Coke.
When they hung their hands out of the boat, dragging them through the waves on the way back to the dock, I played Which One Of These Island Mansions Would I Want? in my head.
When they were splashing and screaming in the scummy pond water, I told them to pipe down because the adults were sitting right across from each other and were having to yell to hear over all of their racket.

Not long after, my son came walking down the gravel path with blood gushing from his nose.  I stopped in mid-S'more bite and casually asked if he was alright.  I mean, I didn't want to be overbearing or anything, lest I be subjected to more hand slashing and teeth clenching.

"My nose is bleeding!"

I kind of shrugged my shoulders and said, "Oh.  Do you maybe need help?"

"MOM!"

Proving my theory that they always come back in the end. 
Especially when they get bashed in the nose playing football with their cousin.
(I'm just saying.)

After 10 hours of fun and sand and dirt and salt water and pond slime and cake and dip
(cream cheese, cooked bacon pieces, and chopped green onions)
(try it)
(and don't say I never did anything for ya')
and soda and more cake and more dip and S'mores and rope swings and dip for the road,
we piled into our cars and left our gracious hosts waving wearily from the driveway.

Prince Charming was waiting with open arms when we got home.  He didn't get to go this year.  A little something called Running A Company kept him away.

He listened to us all twitter on about the fun we'd had and tucked us in after we collapsed in bed.
We slept for about 12 hours, then got up, stayed in our pajamas until noon, watched TV all day and wished next summer would hurry up and get here already
so we can go back to the island again.