PhoTuesday

I have a beautiful 4 year old little girl.



You are just going to have to trust me on that, because she has a strange affliction that is hereditary.





The affliction is "not being able to be in front of a camera without being compelled to make the strangest face that you can." This runs through my family in my gene pool.



It can't be stopped and asking the afflicted one to stop will just make it worse.


Trust me. So you want to know why I have been out in my studio so much practicing....this is what I have to work with. How can someone be expected to work in these conditions??


Even my sister is afflicted. I literally have hundreds of pictures of my sister this way. I have another several hundred of my dad. My memories of my family when I look back through the scrapbook are going to be of fish lips, crossed eyes, lizard tongues and monster mouths.

It's a curse I tell ya...a family curse.





I leave you with my favorite picture from the past week.. What do you do when you have to walk away from a good book?


Dog ear the page, of course....

My Opinion Monday

I finally got to use my studio this past weekend. I had a fun time practicing on my sister and nieces, but realize that there is so much more to learn (specifically the use of the hair and kicker light) I am content with how the pictures turned out. My sister need a shot for her website (since she is also a photographer) and my nieces were just good sports. (You can view these pictures HERE)

After I got done with editing and such; I turned to a few websites for pointers and stumbled into an argument about what a "professional" photographer is. It seems that someone with some years under her belt and high prices was "schooling" a new photographer whose prices were lower and portfolio thin.

I have seen this argument a lot. I'm a "real" writer; I don't blog. I'm a "real" photographer; I'm not a "Mom With A Camera"

What makes these self-proclaimed people any more "real" than anyone else?

I don't consider the person with 5 minutes experience any less "real" than the person with 50 years experience. We all gain experience each time we do something more than once, but what it takes to be a "real" (insert job profession here) is what is behind your actions.

drive
passion
eagerness
learning spirit
using 100% of your ability

That is what makes the difference in being "real" or not. Don't ever let your lack of experience keep you from proclaiming that you are a "real" writer, "real" photographer, "real" artist, etc. If it is your passion...that's as "real" as it gets!

Being The Parent Stinks When There Are Hard Questions

I haven't been around the past couple of days (this is starting to become a trend) because I had to be a parent. No really...I did it and let me tell you that being the parent really stinks when you have to answer hard questions, deal with heartache and you are the bad guy.

Why can't every day be play-doh and giggles?

Ya'll know that Buzz took the stray that showed up as her "baby". She loved that dog with a ferocity and the pup loved her with the same strength. They did everything together and were inseparable.

This is where something always happens to prove that life isn't fair.

The pup is gone. Buzz blames her father, she blames me and mostly can't put her heartache, sadness, anger, confusion, etc. into words.

I started off being honest with her as I thought good parents should do. Just the facts and I'll help you deal with them. There wasn't anything to hide from her anyways and she's old enough right????

Then came being a parent. That moment when you see them crumpled in the floor, crying their heart out, begging you to fix it and you would give your life to stop the hurt in their eyes. You lie. You say the things that your child need to hear right then. You cry with them because the agony of their pain is too great and because you have now created a "fairy tale" for your child; you have to provide the happy ending. Whatever it takes.

I spent the majority of the day yesterday taking Buzz to every pound, rescue, etc. trying to find her "the puppy who needed her". I kid not when I tell you we looked at no less than 60 dogs and there was not a single one that she liked. Wouldn't even pet them. I thought perhaps she was trying to believe that if she looked hard enough she would find her lost pup.

Then we found Libby.

The moment that she saw her it was love. Libby has some of the characteristics of the "lost one" but is a distinctly different dog. Libby is a long haired dachshund with the face of an angel. She has filled the place that was lost. I snuck in and watched Buzz sleeping last night. Smile on her face and one arm thrown over the sleeping Libby.

I know I can't always give my children a happy ending. I know I will have to answer hard questions. I know sometimes they are going to "hate" me. I know life is unfair and sometimes they will suffer and there will be nothing I can do.

For now though, there is Libby.