I Miss The Fruitcake Lady

Did you know that Edna Marie Faulk was the aunt of Truman Capote? She died in 2006 at the age of 95. Her "Ask The Fruitcake Lady" segments are hysterical.

Obsession

ob·ses·sion
–noun 1. the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.
2. the idea, image, desire, feeling, etc., itself.
3. the state of being obsessed.
4. the act of obsessing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My eyes have turned into camera lenses. Weird. I can no longer watch a movie or view the outside world normally. This may very well qualify me as "obsessed".

A wonderful time was had yesterday at Heard's Natural Science Museum with Double D, Autumn, and her friend, Jay. Although I didn't see many birds, we still managed to get some great shots of squirrels, butterflies and trees. We also saw a snake, and a frog that was chillin' in the water.

I shot mostly on Av mode (aperture priority), which means that I selected the aperture and the camera decided which shutter speed to use. Yes, I am finally getting it! On my next outing I will do the opposite where I choose the shutter speed and let the camera select the correct aperure. Afterwards, it's interesting to look at certain shots and see what the camera chose for that particular setting. Eventually, I hope to get to the point where manual mode is less daunting. Oh, joy. I'm so happy with my new hobby. I only wish Texas was more scenic.

Juno is Mine

Yesterday I had the unpleasant task of shopping at one of the huge discount chains for a few personal items, when what should enter my field of vision, but a huge display of DVDs for JUNO. My heart began to beat wildly (fear? excitement?) when I realized that I had not rushed out on Tuesday to buy it hot off the shelf.

Now why would I enter fight or flight mode when there were at least 50 beautiful, brightly colored packages with the lovely vivid orange stripes on display and not one soul around them? Did I think that suddenly the radars of 100 other shoppers might go off at the same time, where I would unexpectedly find myself in a brouhaha to be later broadcast on the local evening news. In high definition no less? 'Cause I would have engaged in a brawl if necessary, let me tell you.

Honestly, I don’t know where these peculiar feelings originate. I can be so high-strung at times. Gathering my wits, I calmly walked over to the display, reached for the deluxe version on the right, then quickly veered to the cheaper version on the left, and no one got a bloody nose.

%#&*@!!)))!!!

Shutter speed, aperture setting, Av mode, Tv mode, ISO...GAH! Will I ever get it? I am able to comprehend what each element is supposed to achieve independently, but trying to figure out how they integrate based on my surroundings is something else. I have never wanted to learn anything so badly! I keep waiting for a profound revelation, something to click inside my brain so that I can ultimately understand the mechanics of this apparatus.

Feeling somewhat at war with my camera, I snapped a few pictures, edited my mistakes in Lightroom, and then studied on the internet for hours last night to determine what I was doing wrong. There was one web site that gave remarkably clear explanations with graphic illustrations which helped, but I still feel like I'm groping around a pitch black dungeon with only a child’s birthday cake candle for illumination. Methinks this is going to require my brain to effectively shift past first gear and THINK. The last test I studied for was my Vet Tech license a few years ago and I got a 92 on that, so you would think I could do this! And medicine makes me queasy - not my best subject by any means. I am determined to conquer this!

Rotten

Izzy is incredibly attached to her daddy, so the other day I asked her jokingly, “Where’s yo daddy?”

Based on her explosive reaction, you would have thought I detonated a firecracker under her butt. She started twirling around excitedly, barking vociferously as if to say "Yes, yes, I want my daddy! Where? Where is he?!"

When he failed to materialize, she was beside herself with indignation. Each bark, garbled as it may have sounded to an outsider, had an unusually distinctive sound. I honestly thought she was trying to form words. If a dog bark interpreter existed, it would be verified that she was giving me an ultimatum: EITHER PRODUCE HIM NOW OR DIE.

This pitiful display went on for several minutes. I could have continued on with my fun, but unfortunately she had involved the other three dogs, which could have resulted in ear drum damage. Besides, I don't want the neighbors to think I'm running a dog pound out of the house.