Tuesday, July 10, 2012

morado

It all started when I tried to use the "fireworks" setting to catch  a few fancy shots on the 4th of July


It was not an attempt that many would call successful, per se.

Although Mistah Shlekah does seem partial to this sort of thing

and me without my hallucinogens.
The failure thing did not stop me from taking 898 weirdo photos of those fireworks, but that is not the point. The point is that I left the camera set on fireworks, and that is how I either ruined or made magical an evening of amazing light at our very own and well beloved Ocean Beach.


The Land of Purple Sand!
Really. Honestly. Truly. Where do I go with this? It's the moment that was so awesome, my girl being a complete loon out there in the lingering daylight, playing frisbee with her dad.

What? There isn't a cartwheel rule in your game of frisbee? You are doing it wrong.

Speaking of doing it wrong...

let's stick to our God-given talents
My boy was out in the desert, the poor bastard. Camping in 110 degree weather. Who does that?   We'll get to see him in a blog soon, I think. But for now, back to the purple sand and the loco disc.

Could you ever throw so gracefully?

So confident and poised?
Ah, but the disc eludes

She thought she'd give the camera a whirl while I took over her frisbee station

How much fun would we have on a purple beach?
She tried and tried to get a photo of me catching the thing, but that required that: a). I catch it and b) she capture it

close enough?
She got some good action shots of dad


And of the standing still moments
Oh, well.
Isn't it?
The light changed as the day dwindled, even though I had no idea we were working on purple sand mode, I was in love with the illumination on these faces


Pretty girl. Cute boy.

I don't know where she gets it.



Goodnight, purple sand.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Tiny tops

Somebody's getting a care package. Somebody who lives with Ellie. Somebody who is rather scantily clad. (And I'm not talking about Mistah.)

I think Mom C will be be rather pleased....








Sunday, July 8, 2012

Friday, July 6, 2012

Hang 'Em

I went down to see my mom the other afternoon and she asked me to hang some old pastel portraits for her and, well, I really wish I had taken a "before" photo, because it would make the "after" photo look *much* more dramatic.

The portraits were done in 1974, in Disney World, when our family and the Cronin family went to Florida together on the AutoTrain, and had the Time Of Our Young Lives.

But that's a story for another day.

The story for this day is when one is trying to hang things on a wall symmetrically, one has to measure the back of the thing-to-hang, because every wire is attached to the back of a photo or portrait or painting slightly differently.

Dad taught me that.

Oh and would you look at that! Dad *marked* the exact center of each portrait. From when he hung them in the basement at 26 Bettswood Road.

Sigh. Thanks, Dad.

I'd forgotten to bring work clothes, so whilst hanging and spackling and sanding I innocently asked Mom, "Do you have an apron I could wear over my dress?"

Oh, did she have an apron.

It's still got Dad's pencils in the pocket.

The finished result?


And why wouldn't it be?

No only did I have a great teacher, I have had a lot of practice this winter:

TheDowd said if Ledgie was a person 
he'd have me arrested for stalking.

And if you think this is cool, just wait 'til you see the Ledgie Loo after the Tall Ships Parade on Saturday . . .

Happy OpSailFest, everybody!

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Boom boom basics

Because you always wanted to know just what made the boom booms boom:


Bytesize Science Presents: The Chemistry of Fireworks from ACS Pressroom on Vimeo.

You're welcome!

May your day be full of sound and light and color. And chemistry.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Coming and Going

See that way out there?

That's a ferry.

New London has a wonderful fleet of ferries that we watch sail by from Ocean Beach, coming and going all the livelong day long.

This is the old stalwart The John H.

And this is his friend and colleague, the Mary Ellen.

You can recognize the John H. by his stub nose and yellow smokestacks . . .

. . . and Mary Ellen by her similiar yellow smokestacks, but her nice pointy nose. Okay, okay, her nice pointy bow. What-ever.

She's a lovely pointy girl.

Oh, look! The Susan Anne! The elusive cousin, with her smooth, skinny black smokestacks.

For years we watched the ferries go by, without distinguishing one from another. (Ahem, the John H.)

But those days are over. We are now ferry experts. Ferry mavens. Ferry savants. (the Susan Anne.)

Wait a minute. That's not a ferry . . .

Oooh, but that is. That's the Fast Ferry. That'll get you there* in a jiffy.

*You know, there.

Okay, that is totally not a ferry.

Not even close.

Okay, that's better. Now, you know which one this is right? Ol' Snub Nose?

And this one? Pretty Ol' Pointy Bow?

And of course, this one, their Smooth Frousin?

Just coming and going, all the livelong day . . .

Monday, July 2, 2012

jink wired


I often start the day by checking email, facebook, and words with friends on my phone while laying in bed. It’s a gentle start, and gives me the chance to catch up with my east coast family, prolific communicators who have been up and at it for several hours by the time the suns rises in the west. 

Wait… well, you know what I mean. 

The problem is that it’s hard to reply in earnest on the little phone keyboard, and I *always* have input.  I generally save up all of my feedback for later when I’m at the actual computer and can clickety click my thoughts and hopes and dreams, but if something requires immediate commentary, I use my swype entry touchpad to say my piece. 

Swype is awesome, you just drag your finger sorta kinda close to the trajectory of the letters to form words, and at some point the very smart program anticipates what you’re trying to say and offers word prediction.  It’s great! It’s cool! It’s smart! I go with it. Sometimes I look at my response before sending it and correct any words that were incorrectly predicted, but just as often I assume that it’s all good and just hit send before hurrying along on my merry way to get on with the day.

That’s how I invented the phrase “jink wired” one day while intending to type “I’m weird.” I don’t know where jink came from, what’s a jink? The thing is that the more you use a particular word, the more likely it is to show up as predicted. So now even when I correctly swype “I’m”, which is admittedly rare with all the caps and geographically close similiar looking letters and mid-word punctuation, the phone thinks I must really be trying to say jink.  

Same goes for certain newfangled words that I apparently use a lot, even though it means I would have had to tap out the extra letters more than once to incorrectly spell out what I’m trying to say. This would include “peeeeeee!!!!! “, which is really the only way to spell it when the sentence begins with “OMG I have to….” ; and a few other Coreyism like bastid, wha hoppy, and hosendorks.

When I was in Portland, my girl texted me frequently from her newly gifted phone. She missed me soooooo much, etc.  I answered one of her texts as follows: 

“I miss you too, baby! I bred to charge my phone, almost dead”

 followed immediately by:
“bred=need”

She replied, inexplicably:
“Thank you”

And a couple hours later:
“OK and were going the groshury store right now so we will get bread”

“I don’t need bread, honey. I meant to type need.”

“Oh, okay”. 

They got bread. 

I’ve told this story a few times since I got back, I find it side splittingly hilarious, especially trying to imagine my girl telling her dad that I had texted from Portland to say that I need bread.  

She said she still doesn’t get it. 

I should have got her a phone years ago, this is gonna be fun!