Photography: Week Four

So I am going to skip right over week three (action photos) because I am much more excited about my Week 4 assignment. The assignment was to take an object, any object, photograph it at different times of the day in different places and mess with the white balance settings and the ISO speed to make it look good (or bad, but as long as we know why it came out bad.)

Anyway, what better subject to choose than Wrinkles? I know, right?

I wasn't necessarily excited about the assignment itself, but I was VERY excited to engage Wrinkles in his first photo shoot in 23 years. So here are the results, love it or else.

Here he is relaxing on the swing:
Here he is chilling with his Grandma:
CHEESE!


High ISO on this one, you can tell by the "noise", but here he is climbing the tree in our backyard:

Here he is chilling after work.
Here he is chilling on the front porch:And there you have it. If you didn't have a reason to think I was nuts yet, you do now.

I totally labeled this post "family."

We have holes in our walls. And thank God for home warranties.

You all (Y’all here in the South, Yinz to my hometown readers) remember the story about our air conditioning, yes? Remember, it quit working? It was only last month. And how hot this summer has been? You don’t need to read my blog to know about that part.

Anyway, on Sunday afternoon after the Fossils left, Zach was swiffering … (funny – Microsoft Word does not recognize “swiffering” as a word. It doesn’t recognize “Yinz” either. But it does recognize “Y’all.” I take offense to that) … Okay, so as Zach was swiffering in the basement, he was hit on the head with some water. He looked up and noticed that the ceiling was leaking. And that there were water stains all over the ceiling in the basement.

Isn’t home ownership wonderful?

Call those home warranty people, he demanded.

Yes, sir. Right away. I obliged.

In exchange for his swiffering, he is allowed to boss me around. And I am required to respond and call him “sir.” But really, it’s better than swiffering.

Just kidding about the bossing part. He really does swiffer though.

So the home warranty people say they’ll find someone to come today. Monday morning I get a call while I’m in a meeting.

We’re at your house, the plumber says.

Really? Well unless Fuzz has learned to open the door, you might as well turn around. Oh, and thanks for giving us a heads up that you weren’t coming on Sunday. Oh, and that when you did show up on Monday, since it was an “emergency” you weren’t going to call first to make sure someone was home. Thanks for that. Jagoff.

(Microsoft Word doesn’t recognize “jagoff” either. They must not have any Southwestern Pennsylvanians on their team.)

Here’s when I call Zach and make him handle it from here. He’s not currently swiffering, so really, I’m off the hook.

The home warranty people send out a different plumber. And then I come home to this:




No more leak, just big holes and pieces of drywall on the floor. Did I mention big holes?

Happy Birthday to my Best Sister.

Today we celebrate my sister's TWENTY-EIGHTH BIRTHDAY! Happy Birthday to my Best Sister, Sara!

She lives in Florida so we will be celebrating in spirit with her as she parties down with Orlando's finest and hopefully some midgies.

My sister is not PC, BTW. I wish I would have had this blog the day I went with my sister to Universal Studios to meet Warwick Davis, who you may know from Star Wars, but who she knows and loves from Willow. It is one of my favorite modern memories of my sister. Here she is with her favorite "midgie," which is a word she uses with such care and love. I promise.

So, Sara, in honor of your birthday, since you won't be receiving a gift today from me, I thought I would write you a poem.

Here we go. Ahem. Sara's Birthday Poem, Take 1.

Sara, you have a very pretty face.
And you live in a very far away place.

It is called Florida, who lives there anyway?
Besides you, old people, and Jenny Piccolo.

Sara, you've been my sister for all of my years
And when I was little, of you I had many fears

But not anymore, because now we are friends
If you need help moving home from Florida, a hand I will lend

So get on it, and move home soon so next year we can spend your birthday at Hitch's.

The end.

Happy Birthday Sara!

Here is a photo of me and my sister on the night of my Bachelorette Party, which is another story for another time. This photo was taken about 6 hours before she started falling.

You do the math.
Love you, Sara B!

Hope you have a great birthday and your bathrooms stay clean tonight!

My Husband, Grill Master

I was all ready to write a blog about how great my husband is at grilling. He likes to do it, and he's good at it, and we've been eating well since we've moved into our new house.

I've gained about 5 pounds since we've moved. I blame the grill. Actually, it's more the side burner, because we use it to boil corn on the cob that we douse in butter and salt.

Because it's better that way.

Then we invite our friends over, and they bring yummy treats like those Coldstone ice cream sandwiches that Szarko brought us last weekend. To be honest, I didn't know what we were going to get when we asked him to bring the dessert. Considering his refrigerator, I was expecting saltines and ketchup.

So anyway, I was going to write about what a grilling machine Zach is until a few minutes ago when he came into the house from the patio and said:

"We have a situation."

Me - We do? What?

Zach - The oil dripped out of the carrots and now the grease pit is on fire.

Me - THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!? (Fire scares me.)

Zach - No, the grease pit. I need baking soda. Will baking powder work?

Me - I guess, same thing.

And that was the end of the situation. Nothing is on fire anymore, including dinner. So really this post could be about what a great grill master my husband is, but I like to tease. We can save that for a later date.

Photos: Second Week

Here are the photos I submitted to class for my second week. The focus was depth of field. We were supposed to take photos with shallow depth of field:See how the background is blurry? That means the depth of field is shallow. I'm having a hard time making my depth of field much shallower because my apeture doesn't open any wider than 2.8. Or something like that. I don't want to give the impression that I know more than I actually do.

But that's neither here nor there.

Here is another example of shallow depth of field:
This next one shows great depth of field because everything is in focus. Or something like that.
I take lots of pictures of flowers because:
1. They are very pretty
2. It's in my blood to love flowers
3. They don't move around when I'm trying to take pictures of them

There were a few others, but these ones were my favorites.

I have a few challenges for next week's class: (ATTENTION: I did NOT take any of the below photos. Rather, I googled stuff to give ya'll examples of what mine will look like. HA!)

1. Stop action using fast shutter speed. Like moving things. Not flowers. For example:

2. Pan Stop Action - Where you move the camera with the subject with a slow shutter speed
3. Implied Motion - Slowing down shutter speed (Mental Note: Use tripod.)

So there you have it. Check back next week to see where I've gone with this.

Any tips??

Adventures of a Crazy Person

Last night I had my 3^rd photography class. I will share my photos/feedback from my instructor later, but first I feel the need to get this off my chest.

So class went swimmingly and I left around 9:15. Around 9:30, my instructor calls my cell phone and we have this conversation:

Instructor: Morgan? This is XXXX, from Photography class. You left your purse here.

Me: OH NO! [Panic ensues. Paranoia sets in.] How did you know it was mine?!

[What I really wanted to say was: “OH NO! Please don’t open it! I don’t even know what is in there! There could be ANYTHING!”

I have no idea why I think these things. It all probably stems from the same crazy that makes me check the oven and the front door after I've been in bed for 20 minutes. Even if we didn’t cook that night. I act like I carry around dead cats and chicken wings in my purse.]

Instructor: Uhh, well, it has your driver’s license in it.

Me: [Anxious laugh.] Ha, oh yeah, and it was probably right by my chair too.

Instructor: Yes, that too. Psycho.

Okay, he didn't call me psycho. Outloud.

I get off the phone reviewing the conversation in my head remembering that I had just cleaned it out the other day.

“Calm yourself,” I say.

I talk myself down. I need medication.

I get the purse back and dump it out immediately when I get into the car, not looking to see if any money/credit cards are missing (like normal paranoid people would), but just to make sure there aren’t any dirty socks or tubes of Vagasil that I didn't know about (like abnormal paranoid people would).

Introducing...

The Newest Addition to the Milton Family…

FUZZ! Also known as Fuzz Nuts, Chief White Balls, Fuzzy Buzzer, Puzzy Kidden (or Puzzy Kidder). And by the looks of this photo we can add Fuzza the Hut to that list.

His favorite activities in the new house include:
1. Laying outside the bedroom door desperately trying to get in.
2. Trying to make Zach and me fall down the stairs on a bi-daily basis. At LEAST.
3. Throwing himself at the glass door as soon as the big door opens so it’s impossible to close without moving his fat ass. And he doesn’t like to be moved.
4. Fake scratching the kitchen cabinets. (He has no claws. Thank. Heavens.)
5. Morning jogs.
6. Cuddling.
7. Crying wolf that he doesn’t have enough food.
8. Eating.
9. Pooping.
10. Hanging out on the tool bench.
11. Watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey.
12. Shedding.

But all of these activities, even the undesirable ones, are better than his favorite activity during his first week in Virginia: using my brand new brown shag area rug in the basement as one giant litter box.

After cleaning the carpet and moving it under the stairs - and some tears and some hugs (because that’s how we Milton’s handle bad stuff) - Fuzz has been a delightful addition to our home. And those of you who know him and are laughing hysterically at that last comment, Fuzz is (for now) a changed cat. He’s been very good to Zach and me (after the whole crapping incident, of course).