Giant Scary Bru . . .

I printed off this shot and fooled around with it. Frank's comment: That shot is scary . . . guess he doesn't like larger than life cats. But, Bru is his baby . . . said he'd would have preferred had I scrapped him with a plain dark frame, simple, elegant. Oops!

Its been so long . . .

since I have scrapped a 12x12. I just got enamored with being able to make my own albums, I guess I stopped dead on the larger format. Strange to be working with a medium that is not stiff. And I forgot how much I dislike losing part of a layout to a scan. Grrrr.

Anyway, I caught Bru and Katie napping together and fell in love with the shot.

Mission Impossible . . .

Day 1: Whilst pedaling through a rather upscale - in the process of being built - tony neighborhood . . . lots of grassed open space. I heard them before I saw them. You can't miss the raucous screeching of peacocks. Two pea hens. I was shocked. What in the world are two wild peacocks doing in the middle of a development in a not so rural (anymore) environment? They are on the ground, screaming at me but not moving. Where is my camera at a moment like this? But wait, I have my phone. Not that I know how to take pictures with it but I tried. Came home to show Katie who decided then and there that I needed a lesson on how to use my phone. The shots are worthless. In one, you can't even see the bird and in the other she is a rather large blur.

Day 2: Back in the neighborhood again, I could hear them before I could see them. They are across the street. But before I could get my phone out of my pocket, they took off. Amazing wing spreads. I wasn't even sure pea hens could fly. What was I thinking?

Day 3: I leave the house armed with my digital camera, hoping it will adjust to the change from a/c to 99.9% humidity before I get to my destination. No sounds. Of course not. Harrrumph. So as I continue riding, I catch something over my left shoulder. She is coming in for a landing. Enormous wingspan - she is stunning - graceful - except of course for the silly Dr. Seuss crown on her head. While I think she is going to land on the ground, she fools me and lands in a tree. How can something so ungainly on the ground be so graceful in the air. I am so surprised, my camera is useless. I will finish my ride through the neighborhood and come back and catch her on the ground. HA! She has moved but only to another tree top. Only her head, crown slicked back is sticking out. I take a shot but not the one I want.

Stay tuned for Days 4 - 7392. I will get my shot. Hopefully.

So cool . . .

. . . from Lisa who so kindly shared . . . I just love the concept. Back in the dark ages of elementary school and Brownie cameras, we had an assignment to take a roll of film and try to capture unusual images. ie, have someone stand on a post while second person stands in front, covering the post so it appears that subject one is balanced on subject two's head. I will have to dig around and see if I can still find our pitiful attempts. But again, I love the concept. Time to take my 'slightly' updated camera and see what I can do.

good stuff . . .

I am so visual, I sometimes forget about the sense of smell. So, I was surprised when I opened the garage door to start my morning bike excursion and was assailed by the dank musky aroma of overly wet earth. Not an unpleasant smell, but strong and visceral. A good smell. A thought provoking smell . . . so I lingered for a moment. Starting on my way I discovered one of the neighbors mowing his lawn. While I love the smell of new mown grass, this was a richer, deeper aroma. I stopped pedaling and coasted by slowly, inhaling with delight. Out on the road, the concrete pavement was still drying from its nighttime dampness and a more acrid unpleasant stench was rising. As I swung into a newly started development with lots of cleared land surrounded by woods, I thought I could detect the dampness of the leaves and grass: a loaminess that rose up and surrounded me. I couldn't help but inhale the essence of the earth. Heading back home I passed a thin old man, hunched over his decrepit lawn mower, adding oil and immediately that warm, sickly sweet, greasy tang wafted over to me and I finally realized how loaded this world is with flavor and how rapidly I move through it with my windows closed. Resolution: Stop and smell those proverbial roses. It really does a soul good.

. . aliens from the planet Mercury . .

. . I swear, I am just going to slap a 'wild life refuge' sign in my back yard and charge admission. This is not the 100 acre woods. It is maybe a 25 feet deep easement between our neighborhood and the nursing home behind us. And actually, I am not complaining at all. I love the nightly visitors, and Snoop spent the first 18 months of his life in that swatch of land. I just think it stinks that they are getting so crowded out by development. Frank swears some day we are going to look out back and find a bear. YIKES.

. . . liar, liar . . .

. . . I said, "Never again", would I do a project for the RSS. For some reason, I find it nerve racking. Not the process, I love that. But the "will she like it' part. Almost as bad as the dentist. So now I have to wait until Wednesday to turn it in to find out. ACK!