Traveling Light

What started as kind of an “accident” (as most of my brilliant ideas do) has now turned into an everyday practice with purpose.

I do my “field work” as I call it early in the morning and typically in the same 880 acre park. Because my dog is always at my side we’re limited to the paths we can travel (i.e., dogs are not allowed on the wetland/forest trails). Since I don’t like weighing myself down with several lenses I found myself along the same five or six trails and shooting with the same lens almost every day (usually my telephoto). One day as I grabbed my camera to jump in the Jeep I realized I had my Lensbaby on my Canon. Too lazy to run back inside and all the way upstairs (I said I was lazy), I decided to shoot with the ‘baby that day.

And guess what? I saw the same path thru totally different eyes. And my images that resulted reflected that.

So now before I leave the house I think about which lens or camera I would like to travel with that day. And I can only take one lens or one camera. It is amazing how restricting myself to that has changed how I see things. I am forced to “make do” with what I have that day. And, yes, there are days when I know I missed a great telephoto shot of a pelican because I’ve only got my macro. But I have captured a fabulous shot of a ladybug’s face sitting on a yucca plant.

A landscape will look totally different to me if I’m shooting it with my Polaroid as opposed to my wide angle. Some places just lend themselves to a certain look I know will be captured on film (or digital). There is no mistaking a Polaroid landscape ~ it just cries out to be shot in Polaroid. The same path will look completely different when I shoot with a Holga as opposed to a digital. A wildflower takes on a different personality when shot with a Lensbaby and even another when I add a 10x macro filter. A sparse meadow with dead trees takes on a haunting feel when shot with a toy fisheye.

Shooting with a different lens or camera every day has breathed new life into the same territory ~ and the same me. I’m not a tech savvy person; never will be. (I’ve got Photoshop CS2 and know how to do six things in it.) My interest lies in seeing the world as a beautiful palette and painting an image I can share. The “one lens/one camera” challenge has quite literally opened my eyes and tested my artistic senses. I like to think that I’m learning to stretch my abilities and develop a more discerning feel for not only my cameras, but how I view the world.

I see it as a metaphor for life. I can walk thru life doing the same thing in the same way each day; or I can step outside the box, (so to speak) challenge myself and try on a new cloak. Doing so has quite literally shown me that seeing the world thru a new eye every day is exciting and exhilarating; it is challenging, fun and mind-expanding. I am never bored; I greet each day with anticipation I’ve never known. Each day holds the promise of discovery.

Traveling light has taken on a new meaning for me. Light as in a beacon guiding my life.

I’m thinking it’s a Polaroid morning…

Bonded

I never imagined I would be one to get a tattoo. Me – a straight-laced Lutheran-raised country girl from the Midwest – growing up in the mountains… just doesn’t seem to fit. Then as my children grew and I was introduced to the actual artistry and meaning of tattoos, I began to open my mind and give the whole genre a new look. It didn’t have to be all flaming dragons and hoochy-koochy girls. Tattoos could be a beautiful, simple, artistic image of you. And, as I decided, a way to celebrate life…

At age 52, I have two tattoos. And I have decided that my reason for having any tattoo is to commemorate a joyous occasion – a time I want to cherish and relish and look back upon with a smile. I will not add any ink to my body frivolously. Because nothing says forever like a tattoo. It will always be there.

My first tattoo rests on my right ankle and is the Chinese symbol for Happiness. At least I pray to God it is. My dear friend who is of Chinese descent told me, “O I’m sure it means happiness in some dialect; there are so many…” He is so sweet. What do I know; I grew up in Iowa. But it means happiness to me. And the impetus for that tattoo was to celebrate the fact that I was about to turn 50 years old. 50 years on the planet deserves a statement!

I knew nothing of tattoos, but I had wonderful guides. Both my sons’ girlfriends – who are so beautiful – knew the way thru the tattoo world and were planning to add each a new one. They invited me along and we all “bonded” while getting our tattoos (all different but inked at the same time) together.

So that was the coming of age for me at 50.

Flash forward to yesterday, June 26, 2007. My son is marrying the most amazing woman – someone I love and respect and LIKE. Having had history together in their 7 year relationship, we decided it was only proper to celebrate that with permanent ink. We drove to the seedy/yet up and coming part of town and after having two beers each at the dive bar across the street (I loved it), we sauntered in to the tattoo parlour and were branded with the image that you see here. Mine is on my wrist; her’s on her foot.

And I still have a spare wrist available… you know who I’m talkin’ to ;-)

And btw – I wore my hat the whole time I wrote this. I do believe it is my new thinking hat.

I really love this hat. And I love my new tattoo.

Life is good.

Time.

I seem to be having issues with time lately. Sunday I had too much of it; today I woke up wishing I could add a couple of hours to each day. Just put me in the “she’s just never happy” category.

I woke up kinda’ grumpy this morning and on my walk near the lake I tried to figure out why. That’s what those early morning walks are sometimes good for – sorting things out. That is when I’m not distracted by some brilliant work of nature and have to stick my camera in my face and lose my train of thought.

I started thinking about how it is already the middle of June. My son’s wedding is in 7 weeks. My 88 year old Mom (she’ll be 89 in September) is flying out for the week before the wedding and staying with us. My San Francisco kids will be in town the week before the wedding, too. (Thank goodness my Denver kids now have a 2 bedroom, 2 bath condo!) We’re hosting the rehearsal dinner (more of a cocktail – hors d'oeuvre party than dinner) the night before the wedding. We always attend the Cherry Creek Arts Festival the weekend near July 4; there’s another community pool party on the 6th. We would really like to have the mister’s business partners and their wives over for a bbq before summer flies by. We have various out-of-town family and friends who will be stopping by over the next few weeks (months?) to see the new house – food and drink included in the tour, of course. I'm due for my annual physical w/my family doctor in August and I need a crash course in taking better care of my body.

And I haven’t had my girls day out with my future daughter-in-law where we will find THE dress for the wedding (mine; she already has hers).

These are all happy events (well, except the physical) and I need to slow down and appreciate them. The anal side of me has trouble reconciling that with the sentimental side of me.

Although the boxes are unpacked (at least the ones I intend to unpack for now; thank God for a big basement), but there is so much organizing in our new home yet to be done; not to mention the final decorating touches. The decorating touches are what I love and will spend hours thinking about and implementing. I still want to order some canvas "wrap" prints of my work for the house and it's a challenge choosing images and imagining how they may turn out... So, there’s a part of me that hesitates “revealing” the house until all that is done. But the problem is time…

So this morning I cut my walk short – I wasn’t in the mood to shoot pelicans anyway. I started feeling guilty about spending an hour or two every morning perusing the park. Then spending the rest of the morning downloading and tweaking photos ~ delivering them to the various venues in which I participate; printing some at times. I felt guilty about spending time writing and blogging and doing still shots in my studio.

But I’m trying to let go of the guilt and self-reproach. How I spend my mornings is what others would consider “work.” I think the fact that I am doing what I love – and that it in no way feels like work – is where my conflict arises. So, that’s something I have to work on.

No pun intended.

Biding Time

So I’m just biding time waiting till 4:00 so we can wander down to the clubhouse for the big neighborhood pool party. I don’t want to start any projects now because I can’t finish anything in an hour and it bugs me to just get into something and have to leave. I’m sure the party will be fun – and interesting – see some familiar faces and meet some new ones. And, of course – like it matters – I changed my outfit three times. I’m so very used to dressing as nature girl and I realize there are occasions when I need to kick it up a notch and wear something a little more girly. Well, I don’t have to, but I kinda’ feel like I should. And a full-length mirror would certainly help. We sold mine with the old house and I’ve not found a replacement yet. I want a nice looking one in a wooden frame, free-standing and am finding it’s not that easy to find them. So for now I review my attire with a reflection from the shower door. If I squint I can kind of see the whole picture. Vaguely. So who knows what I leave the house looking like.

I’m hoping this will be a fairly short social gathering. The last block party we attended, we were among the final four to leave. I don’t want to become known as “o those people down the street who we can’t get rid of!” And besides the Sopranos finale is on tonight. We record it but I really want to see this as it airs. The end of an era. Their story lines did slip a bit in the last couple of years, but it really was a one-of-a-kind show in the beginning. I remember I was the one who turned the mister on to it – and that’s a real switch as I abhor violence. I think I was just fascinated by the shock value and tuned in every week to see how they were going to make me jump and gasp.

We’re also fascinated by a cleaning lady who spent 12 hours at the vacant house next door yesterday cleaning and finally left at 10:00 pm. (We are easily distracted.) She was back again this morning at 10:00 and after the realtor who let her in left, she pulled her car in the garage and apparently is settling in quite nicely. Keep in mind this is an unfurnished house. I really don’t think I could spend more than 12 hours cleaning my furnished house; let alone carry it into the next day.

So, with my official “neighborhood watch block captain” hat on (I wish they did give me a hat – or a badge or something; I was heavy into theatre in high school and love costumes), I’m keeping an eye on the situation. Just seems kinda’ fishy to me. I have my first official NW meeting next week and will learn all of my official duties. Maybe I’ll get my hat/badge then.

Well, that killed 15 minutes… maybe I’ll call my Mom and see what life in Iowa is like today…

I Refuse To Call It An Obsession...

Even when I was pregnant I didn’t crave ice cream. Or pickles. And certainly didn’t crave them together. In fact, I don’t remember having any cravings. Except maybe craving to come out on the other side with a healthy baby and as little excess weight as possible. My doctor was pretty stern when it came to weight gain and in retrospect, I thank him. And my babies didn’t suffer – weighing in at 8 lbs. 9 oz. and 8 lbs. 12 oz. respectively. (And how the heck do I remember things like that when by 2:30 in the afternoon I can’t remember if it’s Wednesday or Thursday??)

So where this nightly need for a little taste of frozen yogurt came from I have no idea. And I never, ever liked ice cream (or frozen yogurt) with chunks of anything in it. Yuck. So what possessed me about a month ago to buy a Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream bar and eat the whole thing in about 2 minutes while driving home from the store? Unfortunately on the next trip to the store (which I believe may have been the next day) I discovered Ben & Jerry packed that same ice cream bar into a recyclable pint-sized box. And they cloned it in a frozen yogurt form with less calories, less fat and less guilt. And just a few days ago I discovered yet another temptation – disguised as less threatening than fat-filled, calorie-laden ice cream – called Chocolate Fudge Brownie frozen yogurt.

So now I’m a connoisseur of frozen yogurt (not ice cream) with chunks of stuff in it. And I’m trying to forget that I’ll be the mother of the groom in wedding photos in less than two months. Thank God their colors are black and ivory. Black can be so slimming…

Letting Go

A new concept I’ve been trying on for size (in my head) is letting go. Letting go of resentment, jealousy, competitiveness (the bad kind, not the healthy kind), repressed anger ~ you know, basically any emotion that is futile and self-defeating. Paraphrasing James Arthur Ray, “Not forgiving someone is like drinking poison every day and hoping the other person will die.”

I am toying with the idea of applying that same sentiment to resentment, jealousy, competitiveness (the bad kind, not the healthy kind) and repressed anger. Something inside me is beginning to click and I'm starting to realize I’m tired of drinking the poison. Who has time for that? And besides, my stomach hurts. As trite as it may sound, life really is too short (and it’s getting shorter) to allow those emotions any more space in my brain. Not to mention what it would do for my blood pressure.

It won’t happen overnight ~ some of these emotions run deep and have longevity. But it is a theory worth considering and I think I might work on it. It seems there is a lot more I want to say on the subject, but I’m just not there yet. Baby steps…

A couple of thoughts I’ll leave with you (and myself as well):

"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."
** Monhandas Gandhi

"When you forgive, you in no way change the past - but you sure do change the future."
**Bernard Meltzer

And on another note - a different slant - with which I happen to agree as well:

"Just because you forgive someone doesn't mean you have to invite them up to the house for potato salad."
**Oprah

Amen.

I'm Baaaack!

I’ve been away from Bloggerland for a long time now and was beginning to wonder if I’d ever return. We’ve been in the new house one month today and I think it’s time to start living my life again.

My office is coming together and I’m really going to like spending time in here. God, I love having my own space. My very, very own... I’m still filing and putting things where they belong, but I’m almost there. At least I’m not tripping over boxes anymore. Not only do I have an inspiring (dare I say distracting!) view of the lake and mountains, I’ve got lots of space to spread out my “stuff.” My closet (which is long and kinda’ narrow) rocks. The mister built some “cubbies” for me – two sets of cubes, nine cubs in each. There’s nothing I love more than organization and making the most of space. Well, maybe chocolate and a quiet beach, but anything that helps me be organized is right up there.

In addition to my desk (which I’ve decided to go topless with – I left the cumbersome hutch in the basement this time and I LOVE the openness) ~ I've actually got room for some pink dahlias ~ I’ve got two of my favorite work tables on wheels to roll around wherever I want. I’ve got my little flat-screen TV on top of my cubbies in the closet – kind of a makeshift armoire of sorts – so I can slide the closet door shut and the place looks cleaner. Not that it’s ever closed because I am the original TV addict… But it’s a cool idea. Which I must admit was the mister’s…

I’ve got a dog bed on my left and a fleece-lined basket on my right – which A-choo is breaking in at this moment. I swore I wasn’t going to keep any food in here; so, of course, there is a wire basket on the corner of the desk with Ghirardelli dark chocolate mints, Harry & David milk chocolate truffles, Australian black licorice and Bazooka bubblegum. The chocolate two-bite brownies, which are nothing short of illegal, sit to the right of my monitor. In an effort to practice good posture, I also was not going to keep my little green duck print footstool under my desk. My feet are up on it as I type. And it’s under my desk.

My mornings in the park have provided so much photographic material I don’t have enough outlets for it all. (So, of course, I make a trip to the Gardens this afternoon to add about 200 more.) Actually tonight I’m pouring Visine into my eyes – they’re a bit strained.

Life is good. It’s not perfect, but it’s good. Some of the problems I had before are still in my life. A house can’t fix everything. But it’s a start.

And the one thing I’d really like to know... exactly what did I get myself into when tonight a nice neighbor-man with a kind and smiling face rang my doorbell and asked if I’d be interested in being a neighborhood watch block captain and I said, “Sure.”????