A Scenic World

Bonus Indie-Goodness:
RATATAT - Black Heroes

I really didn’t like the photo I posted for my self-portrait photo today. So while I was at work, I had an idea. It would involve buying more sparklers, because Mike and I went through all his stash the night before, but it was worth the $1 I’d have to spend.

So tonight I got off work, bought my sparklers, and headed home to change. I lugged my tripod, my K200D with the 31mm lens attached, my remote, a lighter, and the sparklers outside. I set up the shot I wanted and made sure the focus was locked in the right position (Pentax AF isn’t exactly known for being perfect in the dark).

Then I realized that my idea wasn’t going to work. In fact, there was a very good chance I was going to end up setting my house on fire.

Time for Plan B! Except there wasn’t a Plan B. So I set up my tripod so it faced a different direction, lit a sparkler, and stood in one place. Yeah, very original.

I went through all 12 of the sparklers in the box and prepared to pack everything up.

But wait!

There was one sparkler left! The box had only advertised a dozen, but there it was: Sparkler #13!

I lit it, waited for the magic to begin, and changed things up. I danced. I twirled. And I pressed the remote release.

So, a tiny, tiny taste of my day yesterday:

I was cleaning my bathtub with a generic bleach-based tub and tile cleaner. I had the bathwater running to rinse out the sponge as I cleaned. After a minute or two, I realized that the water wasn’t draining.

I am petrified of standing water (don’t ask), so I always keep Drano around in case I notice the slightest hint that there might be a clog. Nothing had indicated that the drain wasn’t working properly the day before, so I was really flummoxed.

I stopped cleaning and added a bit of the Drano to the water. I waited 30 minutes. Nothing. So I added more and waited again. Tiny little bubbles trickled up from the drain. At one point, a large bubble broke the surface, causing me to be filled with hope. But nothing else happened after that.

So I poured the entire bottle in.

After 30 minutes, there was still nothing happening. So I decided to call the maintenance personnel at my complex.

One problem with that: I had no idea what the number was.

A quick visit to my next-door neighbor who’s lived here for 37 years remedied that situation. Armed with the phone number to our landlord (who lives about 45 miles away), I placed the call I hoped would fix everything. Except that the connection was incredibly bad and I had NO IDEA what he was saying on the phone. I just kept repeating my problem and my apartment number and hoped for the best.

Since I’d spent the morning cleaning, I was in desperate need of a shower. Jennifer graciously offered her shower, so I headed over with just enough time to get to work on time. As soon as I walked into her apartment though, backpack slung over one shoulder, I realized I’d left my shoes at home (curse my propensity for flip-flops!).

Luckily, she headed back to my place while I showered and retrieved my shoes. Whew. I at least made it to work clean.

When I got home nine hours later, I immediately noticed a bleach smell. Hmmmm. A quick survey of the bathtub indicated that the drain was clear! But a quick survey of the internet indicated that it was a pretty bad idea to mix Drano and bleach.

So I opened the windows, called my mother for advice (sorry about that midnight phone call!), and waited for three hours before finally closing the windows and calling it a night. I would have left the windows open while I slept, but I don’t live in that kind of neighborhood.

And I woke up, alive.

Whew.

First, a little background music, courtesy of DeVotchKa:

With blue skies finally breaking through the clouds, I had to take my camera out this morning. The rains had brought out weeds galore, and with the weeds: bees! I was intent on catching one (with the camera, of course).

I settled next to a group of flowers by the banks of the Duck Pond. Bees swarmed around me, but none alighted on the plants in front of me. As my patience grew thin, some of my old weed friends tried to distract me.

“Here I am! Take photos of me!”

But I was not so easily distracted. With my camera focused on the flower in front of me, I waited. At last, a bee approached!

He hovered for a moment, indecisive.

As I snapped away, trying to make sure I got something in focus (I have no flash, the wind was blowing, and this bee was fast!), an onlooker seemed to mock my efforts:

Finally, the bee alighted, and in the perfect position…

I present to you: “Bee Butt.”

This guy was hungry! He made stop after stop along the flowers, somehow always managing to stay out of the field of view of my lens. Right before he flew off for good, he at last stopped at a flower where I could catch his silhouette.

Kind of.

I pondered all the things I did wrong during the shoot.

First, I was shooting with a wide-open aperture, which is never a good idea. The focus is nearly impossible to achieve and the chromatic aberrations are insane.

Second, I should have used flash. I just have no clue how to do that (mental note: learn flash!).

Third, I should have manually focused and waited for the focus indicator light rather than let the super-slow D-FA 100mm Macro go through its looooooooong focusing bit.

Fourth, I should have maybe gotten up a bit earlier to get better light.

I sighed internally.

But wait!

Maybe it wasn’t me!

Maybe it was just that bee!

After all, this one seemed to be a bit better at striking a pose ;)

A wise person once said, “The camera captures light, you capture the moment.” Today, I woke up with a raging sore throat, so I wasn’t feeling very keen to take a self-portrait. I knew that this was going to be one those days where I needed to find some prop to make my photo interesting. I headed outside (still in my pajamas, naturally), and looked for something to use. With the warm weather we’ve had, the wild flowers are in full force, so I started looking for one to incorporate.

I turned the corner of my apartment building, and a rose bud caught my eye. One flower had just one petal left. I snapped a photo of it quickly and realized that I had photo gold on my hands, but I couldn’t get the focus quite right just holding the camera. My 365 was instantly forgotten as I ran inside to get my tripod.

I returned moments later, turning the corner with my tripod in one hand and camera in the other.

It wasn’t there. The petal had fallen.

My neighbor chose that moment to come out of his apartment. I’m fairly sure I was standing there open-jawed, still in my pajamas.

At least I’d caught that moment before the petal fell, if imperfectly.

I recently attended a mandatory training class for food safety. The class was 16 hours long, spread over two days. I had, respectively, two hours of sleep before day one and three hours before day two. Needless to say, I needed something to keep me awake. Since my friend Mike Autry was sitting next to me, I made good use of his notebook to write insults taken directly from the class lectures.

A sampling:

Me: You’re a virus.
Mike: Your mom is a virus.
Me: You’re a vicious cycle.
Mike: Your mom.
Me: You’re a toxin.
Mike: True. (He had a cold at the time.)
Me: You’re a federal regulatory agency.
Mike: Your insults are lame.
Me: You don’t react very well.
Me: You’re an unsanitized probe.
Me: You’re a potentially hazardous food.
Me: You’re a pathogen.
Me: You’re a source of contamination.
Mike: You’re the source of all evil.
Me: You’re a safety hazard.
Me: You’re slimy.
Mike: You’re moldy.
Me: You’re a common oven.
Mike: You’re nuthin’ but a toaster oven.
Me: You’re a mister head.
Me: You’re a microgrowth.
Mike: You’re a crustacean.
Me: You need to be tested once a year.
Mike: You need to be tested once a day.
Me: You’re a pest.
Me: You’re rat bait.
Mike: You’re a chemical rodenticide.
Me: You’re a nuisance.
Mike: You need backflow devices.
Mike: You’ve got “the ants.”
Me: You are an infestation.
Mike: You’re a blowfly.
Mike: You’re a class I recall - you could kill someone.
Me: Your breath could.
Mike: You are not reputable.
Me: You’re at the farm level.
Mike: Your mom.

Mike wants to make it clear that he means no offense to my actual mom.