{this fading sunset reflected in his eyes}
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
A nut driver
This flat tire? It wasn't on my car.
Not merely hours after the man of the farm got into an airplane and flew off across the country. But it's no big deal, you know, because someone had the foresight to purchase a certain tool thingie... because the last three times our roads-which-are-in-perfect-condition (cough, cough) gave me a flat, it wasn't me who couldn't get the tire off the car.
And to quote The Bean, "It's tooooo tight!"
These boys of mine are just old enough to be dangerous.
"Just back the car up to the shop, Mom."
They thought they had it all under control.
"We'll just turn on the air compressor and use Daddy's nut driver."
I snorted.
"Daddy's what?"
Try not to laugh, people. It gets worse.
I knew that tool was in my trunk for this precise moment so I told the boys that, no, I was the one who had it all under control. After all, I am the mom. Then I opened the little black plastic tool case in the trunk and both boys gasped and jumped and squealed, "A NUT DRIVER!".
*angels singing*
Really.
Except it was a piece of JUNK!
"Don't say dat Mommy"
"Girl, where are your hair clips?"
Maybe it was a cheap piece of junk. Maybe I didn't know how to use it. Maybe I don't know how to do my little girl's hair. Maybe some weird you-get-what-you-pay-for combination of them all. But I'll tell you what... when somebody needs cupcakes to celebrate his birthday at preschool the very next day, and a horrid lapse in kitchen ingredient inventory caused by a thyroid medication mishap (that I really don't want to discuss) means that I haven't got a single drop of vegetable oil in my cupboards or butter in my fridge...
It is not ME who will find a way.
I am a nut driver. Yes I am. Thankyouverymuch.
(and it is also not me who's very third post on this blog was about a flat tire)
Not merely hours after the man of the farm got into an airplane and flew off across the country. But it's no big deal, you know, because someone had the foresight to purchase a certain tool thingie... because the last three times our roads-which-are-in-perfect-condition (cough, cough) gave me a flat, it wasn't me who couldn't get the tire off the car.
And to quote The Bean, "It's tooooo tight!"
These boys of mine are just old enough to be dangerous.
"Just back the car up to the shop, Mom."
They thought they had it all under control.
"We'll just turn on the air compressor and use Daddy's nut driver."
I snorted.
"Daddy's what?"
Try not to laugh, people. It gets worse.
I knew that tool was in my trunk for this precise moment so I told the boys that, no, I was the one who had it all under control. After all, I am the mom. Then I opened the little black plastic tool case in the trunk and both boys gasped and jumped and squealed, "A NUT DRIVER!".
*angels singing*
Really.
Except it was a piece of JUNK!
"Don't say dat Mommy"
"Girl, where are your hair clips?"
Maybe it was a cheap piece of junk. Maybe I didn't know how to use it. Maybe I don't know how to do my little girl's hair. Maybe some weird you-get-what-you-pay-for combination of them all. But I'll tell you what... when somebody needs cupcakes to celebrate his birthday at preschool the very next day, and a horrid lapse in kitchen ingredient inventory caused by a thyroid medication mishap (that I really don't want to discuss) means that I haven't got a single drop of vegetable oil in my cupboards or butter in my fridge...
It is not ME who will find a way.
I am a nut driver. Yes I am. Thankyouverymuch.
(and it is also not me who's very third post on this blog was about a flat tire)
Monday, October 24, 2011
Telling a simple story
44. Putting the garden to sleep for the winter.
45. The chickens joyfully scratching through that freshly tilled soil.
46. Recognizing the immense value of the tiniest of creation.
47. Allowing myself to fully enjoy the moment I discovered I'd swept the floor of a difficult photo challenge.
48. Seeing real progress on a behavior modification program
after only four days.
49. Her tiny sweet voice singing, "My moon-light me ha-ppy!" (see number 48)
50. Being brave enough to activate another custom function on my freshly-back-from-repair-but-still-pulling-my-hair-out-frustrating camera... and having that finally make all the difference with my focusing issues.
45. The chickens joyfully scratching through that freshly tilled soil.
46. Recognizing the immense value of the tiniest of creation.
47. Allowing myself to fully enjoy the moment I discovered I'd swept the floor of a difficult photo challenge.
48. Seeing real progress on a behavior modification program
after only four days.49. Her tiny sweet voice singing, "My moon-light me ha-ppy!" (see number 48)
50. Being brave enough to activate another custom function on my freshly-back-from-repair-but-still-pulling-my-hair-out-frustrating camera... and having that finally make all the difference with my focusing issues.
Friday, October 21, 2011
It's easier with a remote
While I was running back and forth through the alfalfa, tripping over kittens and nicely (or not) asking the dog to get out of my way, attempting to do this:
{featured on Shutter Sisters}
Unknown to me... my brand spankin' new two dollar and sixty-six cent camera remote was waiting patiently in my mailbox. Two of them, actually. I hate to consider any cheap plastic from China a disposable item, but, well... I lost my first one months ago and I have sorely missed it. So I ordered two.
Since the first one never turned up in the washing machine, I'm assuming it went through the lawn mower.
Wanna know how much shipping cost? For my two tiny $2.66 items which came to a whopping $5.32 subtotal?
It's partly why I ordered two, you know. If I'm going to pay shipping on one miserably small purchase, I might as well double what I'm getting. I'm right, yes? Right?
In my best Chinese accent: one dollar (you have to say it really fast)
I know. I could hardly believe it either. Good thing I ordered two!
But wait, it gets better! Allow me the pleasure of reading a bit of the user manual to you:
"Use this remote to picture yourself, picture your family union. No body is missed."
Oh! But wait! Wait! It gets even better!
The dumb thing isn't even supposed to work with my camera.
{featured on Shutter Sisters}
Unknown to me... my brand spankin' new two dollar and sixty-six cent camera remote was waiting patiently in my mailbox. Two of them, actually. I hate to consider any cheap plastic from China a disposable item, but, well... I lost my first one months ago and I have sorely missed it. So I ordered two.
Since the first one never turned up in the washing machine, I'm assuming it went through the lawn mower.
Wanna know how much shipping cost? For my two tiny $2.66 items which came to a whopping $5.32 subtotal?
It's partly why I ordered two, you know. If I'm going to pay shipping on one miserably small purchase, I might as well double what I'm getting. I'm right, yes? Right?
In my best Chinese accent: one dollar (you have to say it really fast)
I know. I could hardly believe it either. Good thing I ordered two!
But wait, it gets better! Allow me the pleasure of reading a bit of the user manual to you:
"Use this remote to picture yourself, picture your family union. No body is missed."
Oh! But wait! Wait! It gets even better!
The dumb thing isn't even supposed to work with my camera.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
His support
Every time I mentioned it, his quiet comment was always the same. Always.
"No film"
It was where he drew the line.
"No film"
This whole photography thing of mine is all his fault. When I was drowning under the deep darkness of depression, being smothered by undiagnosed hypothyroidism, in the midst of trying to understand one child with undiagnosed autism and utterly exhausted from dealing with another child who would never ever sleep, AND in complete and absolute denial that I was again pregnant... he was the one who told me to get a hobby. Something for me? Yes, the blame is squarely on him. But he carries it well.
Too well, perhaps.
As my skills outgrew my equipment, he gently pushed me toward the more... ahem...professional expensive options.
But there has to be a line. Somewhere. And he drew it.
"No film"
For some reason, I casually mentioned it again. And again. Maybe it was something I read, that I thought was worth discussion. Or some quality of an analog image I saw, that dropped my jaw. Or some itch deep within me, that I didn't understand.
Or, possibly, three unused rolls of expired film rolling around in a drawer had something to do with it.
When it came to "if I spend my birthday money on this, and shoot one roll a month, would our marriage be over..." he sighed in loving defeat and told me I might as well get aglorious expensive medium format camera.
But that was where I drew the line. He didn't have the slightest clue what he was suggesting.
31. A new challenge: Fear of failure. Fear of success.
32. The perfect fit of an old beat-up Canon in my hand.
33. Expired Fuji 400 film.
34. Forced slowness.... the quiet of deliberately making every tiny decision for each click.
35. A notebook gathering much more information than I imagined. So much more than shutter speed, aperture and ISO.
36. My mind's view of the finished image.
37. The snap of a shutter that sounds like pure magic.
38. Not looking at the back of the camera even once.
39. Complete satisfaction in the face of delayed gratification.
40. Another reminder that I am human, as I simply enter "oops" in my notebook for image number three.
41. The entertainment my mother-in-law provided by her disbelief that I can't see the pictures on the back of the camera.
42. Listening to my boys oooh and aaaah after waiting so long to see the pictures.
43. Support and encouragement of a husband, even when I know he'd really rather not.
"No film"
It was where he drew the line.
"No film"
This whole photography thing of mine is all his fault. When I was drowning under the deep darkness of depression, being smothered by undiagnosed hypothyroidism, in the midst of trying to understand one child with undiagnosed autism and utterly exhausted from dealing with another child who would never ever sleep, AND in complete and absolute denial that I was again pregnant... he was the one who told me to get a hobby. Something for me? Yes, the blame is squarely on him. But he carries it well.
Too well, perhaps.
As my skills outgrew my equipment, he gently pushed me toward the more... ahem...
But there has to be a line. Somewhere. And he drew it.
"No film"
For some reason, I casually mentioned it again. And again. Maybe it was something I read, that I thought was worth discussion. Or some quality of an analog image I saw, that dropped my jaw. Or some itch deep within me, that I didn't understand.
Or, possibly, three unused rolls of expired film rolling around in a drawer had something to do with it.
When it came to "if I spend my birthday money on this, and shoot one roll a month, would our marriage be over..." he sighed in loving defeat and told me I might as well get a
But that was where I drew the line. He didn't have the slightest clue what he was suggesting.
31. A new challenge: Fear of failure. Fear of success.
32. The perfect fit of an old beat-up Canon in my hand.
33. Expired Fuji 400 film.
34. Forced slowness.... the quiet of deliberately making every tiny decision for each click.
35. A notebook gathering much more information than I imagined. So much more than shutter speed, aperture and ISO.
36. My mind's view of the finished image.
37. The snap of a shutter that sounds like pure magic.
38. Not looking at the back of the camera even once.
39. Complete satisfaction in the face of delayed gratification.
40. Another reminder that I am human, as I simply enter "oops" in my notebook for image number three.
41. The entertainment my mother-in-law provided by her disbelief that I can't see the pictures on the back of the camera.
42. Listening to my boys oooh and aaaah after waiting so long to see the pictures.
43. Support and encouragement of a husband, even when I know he'd really rather not.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Early morning
6:00 am
Homework. I try to make it tolerable with hot cocoa and powdered sugar donuts.
No deal.
He wants his usual. Oatmeal mixed with applesauce and a spoonful of honey.
We struggle. It's not easy with an attention span of literally three seconds.
I dig the rocks he has collected out of his backpack. He adds.
Did I mention powdered sugar donuts?
Or that the Bean gets up at 5:30?
Homework. I try to make it tolerable with hot cocoa and powdered sugar donuts.
No deal.
He wants his usual. Oatmeal mixed with applesauce and a spoonful of honey.
We struggle. It's not easy with an attention span of literally three seconds.
I dig the rocks he has collected out of his backpack. He adds.
Did I mention powdered sugar donuts?
Or that the Bean gets up at 5:30?
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
With the wind
Our house shook as the warm wind blew nonstop. Five days, or was it four? Gusting to fifty-five miles an hour.
On these October days, it seemed cruel to keep the kids inside when it was summer-day hot outside. Out our windows, the air swirled thick with what looked like snow. Cattail seeds. The wind drove the unending swarm of them through our yard. Each time I stepped out to collect eggs, or capture runaway sections of duct-work (we're in the midst of a furnace project), or rescue our young apple trees from the protective fences they had become hopelessly tangled in, or chase after whatever else was escaping our yard... the cattail seeds got me. That and the dust from combines busy miles and miles around, they got me. I came back in the house with a scratchy throat, watery eyes, and sneezes that made my little girl giggle.
That last day of brutal wind, the cattail seeds had all blown away. Far away. To Canada, I suppose. And it wasn't quite as dusty. So we ventured out.
The popcorn maze had taken a real beating.
The boys gathered what they could.
Whether it's mature enough to actually pop, we have yet to discover.
If not, the chickens will eat it.
The act of gathering it up, the running back and forth in the warm windy afternoon sunshine after five (or was it four?) days cooped up in the house... Well, it was perfect.
21. Wearing shorts in almost-mid-October in North Dakota, when a cloud of cattail seeds could easily have been snow.
22. My husband taking charge of the little girl so I could just hang with my boys.
23. Exploring every square inch of the tree that crashed down in our backyard.
24. The boys' joy upon discovering a Wood Duck's old nest high in a hole on that tree.
25. Our wonder at the hidden life that quietly surrounds us.
26. Imagining fuzzy ducklings jumping from that nest all the way to the ground, in our backyard, just like they do on our Planet Earth movie.
27. Ripening sunflowers that (mostly) stood despite the pounding wind.
28. A pile of popcorn cobs that one way or another, will not go to waste.
29. Autumn sunshine.
30. Forgetting for a few hours that I had piles of laundry to be folded and spelling words to help the first grader learn and dinner to be made, and instead just completely soaking up that beautiful gusty afternoon with my boys.
First photo for Live Every Moment - Autumn
On these October days, it seemed cruel to keep the kids inside when it was summer-day hot outside. Out our windows, the air swirled thick with what looked like snow. Cattail seeds. The wind drove the unending swarm of them through our yard. Each time I stepped out to collect eggs, or capture runaway sections of duct-work (we're in the midst of a furnace project), or rescue our young apple trees from the protective fences they had become hopelessly tangled in, or chase after whatever else was escaping our yard... the cattail seeds got me. That and the dust from combines busy miles and miles around, they got me. I came back in the house with a scratchy throat, watery eyes, and sneezes that made my little girl giggle.
That last day of brutal wind, the cattail seeds had all blown away. Far away. To Canada, I suppose. And it wasn't quite as dusty. So we ventured out.
The popcorn maze had taken a real beating.
The boys gathered what they could.
Whether it's mature enough to actually pop, we have yet to discover.
If not, the chickens will eat it.
The act of gathering it up, the running back and forth in the warm windy afternoon sunshine after five (or was it four?) days cooped up in the house... Well, it was perfect.
21. Wearing shorts in almost-mid-October in North Dakota, when a cloud of cattail seeds could easily have been snow.
22. My husband taking charge of the little girl so I could just hang with my boys.
23. Exploring every square inch of the tree that crashed down in our backyard.
24. The boys' joy upon discovering a Wood Duck's old nest high in a hole on that tree.
25. Our wonder at the hidden life that quietly surrounds us.
26. Imagining fuzzy ducklings jumping from that nest all the way to the ground, in our backyard, just like they do on our Planet Earth movie.
27. Ripening sunflowers that (mostly) stood despite the pounding wind.
28. A pile of popcorn cobs that one way or another, will not go to waste.
29. Autumn sunshine.
30. Forgetting for a few hours that I had piles of laundry to be folded and spelling words to help the first grader learn and dinner to be made, and instead just completely soaking up that beautiful gusty afternoon with my boys.
First photo for Live Every Moment - Autumn
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