.

The Ohio River

2011-07-04T15:20:00.001-04:00

Late last summer while I was in Huntington attending my high school reunion, I went with my sister to have dinner at a restaurant located near the river. Actually it was ON the river but I didn't realize that until we were seated and preparing to order. As we were looking at the beautiful view of the river, a boat approached and we began to rock. I looked at my sister, who was talking on the cell to my California sister, with a look of panic. As she continued to talk, I jumped up and went to the bar to ask why we were rocking. The bartender looked at me like I was nuts and explained that we were on a barge. Okay, I admit it, we did walk on a plank to enter the restaurant, but I didn't get it. Although I loved the view, I just can't have dinner on something that moves when a boat zooms by causing the diners to grab their wine and hope the flounder doesn't land on your lap! Besides, I HATE boats!

Fortunately, I had my camera with me and I was able to convince my sister to go with me to take a few quick shots. This is the actual view.

This image was changed to sepia, giving it an older, more vintage look. Notice the boat in the background? I think it takes away from the story of the image. I wanted the focus to be on the three guys fishing...so in the next image, I removed it.

I added a filter to the next image. It has a kind of faded look. I'm not liking it. The image below retains some of the color, but still has a filter. I like it, but still like the original one best. I'll just keep experimenting.

By the way, we had dinner several hours later, downtown. That is, after my sister had an encounter with another driver...he should never have honked. It's a long story. I told her I wouldn't tell.

Here's What I Know About Spain

2010-10-03T16:33:00.017-04:00

These are merely my observations. Rick Steves, I'm not.

In Madrid birds chirp to notify you when to cross the street; we were on our own in Barcelona.
There doesn't appear to be as many people speaking English as other European countries.
They really don't use washcloths and you can't buy them in stores...we tried. We bought a hand towel and cut it in half. How do they remove their make-up?
I think every Spaniard smokes...got more second hand smoke there than I did when Tom was puffing away three packs a day.
They wear white after Labor Day. Since there is no Labor Day that I know of in Spain, I guess that doesn't apply to them. Makes sense.

They eat every part of the cow, fish, pig, chicken, and ox, including brains and tail...really. I probably left out some of the parts...I just couldn't deal with it.

Expect to wait at least thirty minutes for the bill in the restaurants after you've asked for it...they are in no hurry.

The universal reply after you asked them if they speak Ingles, "A little."

There are AT LEAST two restaurants in every block.
If you're driving, getting out of Barcelona is a heck of a lot easier than getting in...makes New York look tame.

Almost every apartment has a beautiful balcony.

Water is served in glass bottles more than plastic...Spain's going green.

They really do eat dinner late in the evening.

There is no ranch dressing in Spain, it's olive oil and vinegar or nada.

Just as in Italy, their daily objective is to try to run over a tourist with their cycles.

They double park when and where they want to...like I said, they're in no hurry.
Iberian ham is served all day...salty and tough, but when you're hungry it tastes good...no mustard though, when asked for it, the reply, "No habla Ingles."
Spanish women have beautiful skin.
Spanish women OF ALL AGES wear leggings or tights, and of course, the ubiquitous neck scarf!
Chips are served with wine in Madrid.

Spaniards are more than willing to give directions when asked but if you follow them you'll be in worse shape than when you started.

There you have it. In case you're wondering, Madrid was my favorite city. It might be because our apartment was located in the old part of town with lots of character and a convenience store across the street, or it could be because I like to be alerted by chirping birds when it's time to cross the street. Really.

Sunday in Madrid, Part III

2010-09-20T19:25:00.010-04:00

Soon it was time for lunch. As soon as everyone was up and at'em we began our trek to a restaurant that was recommended by Fodors. Just as we were making a left turn onto Gran Via, I noticed barricades along the avenue. Being the inqusitive type, I threw my body over the railing, almost falling on my head to see what was approaching. There were zillions of policia on motorcycles making all kinds of racket, and convertibles with people standing up waving. I think they were the sponsors. I still didn't get it, but soon it became apparent what was about to occur because I almost got my head knocked off by a flying bicycle. There were hundreds of them.

Here was the leader.

Here came the rest of the group.

See what I mean? They almost got me!

There they go!

This went on for several hours. People stayed and cheered and I went into the restaurant. I have no idea who won. I even got a paper today (Monday) to see the winner. Couldn't make heads of tails of it. I'm taking the paper home with me so someone can translate and I won't be in suspense. I hope it's the guy in blue..mainly because I got so many good shots of him. I'll keep you posted.

More later.

Sunday Morning in Madrid, Part II

2010-09-19T17:31:00.010-04:00

Bless her heart, it was an older woman who became ill. No traffic accident, no guns and no fights. In the middle of all of this mess, I dressed quickly and dashed down the stairs and spoke with the police and asked him what happened. He told me in plain english that the woman had become ill. No car crash, no guns, and no fights. I still think something is fishy. Two ambulances?

After my conversation with the police, I wandered down to the corner where the motley crowd was hanging out. I saw a woman who I had seen earlier hanging out in front of our building. This time she emerged from an apartment building around the corner mumbling stuff in spanish...at least I think it was spanish. I heard her say something about loco. She wasn't happy. She had her suitcase dragging behind her. I didn't say a word to her...afraid she would knock my lights out.

As I was recovering from this fiasco, I noticed people walking towards our building.It looked like a tour bus had just dropped off fifty or so people. By now it was almost noon and I soon figured out that these smartly dressed people were going to the church next to the hair salon next to our building. I took more photos. This was after church.

These two kids just went to mass. Looks like they got a lot out of it. Bless their little hearts. Going home. Time to get dressed and go to lunch.You aren't going to believe what happened next.

Sunday Morning in Madrid

2010-09-19T08:44:00.010-04:00

So there I was eating my chocolate croissant and drinking a coke (my favorite breakfast) in our apartment as Janie, Dennis, and Shirley slept. It was 10:00 a.m. As I opened our windows I gazed down to the street and to my amazement saw an ambulance and two police cars. Soon I sprang into action. Being a closet photojournalist, I grabbed my camera and established my perch on the balcony. Just as I started clicking away, another ambulance appeared. Hum. I looked to my right and saw a few men standing on the corner looking to their right. Was there an accident? There was a lot of conversation going on between the medics and the police. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but if I could hear it, I wouldn't understand it anyway. Oh well. These people were in no hurry, so I figured that either someone was dead or someone wasn't that badly injured. My neighbor across the street, a nice Cambodian man was also witnessing the incident. He owns the small store across the street where I buy my daily coke, "One euro por favor." "Gracias." We talk a lot. During this incident, we didn't establish eye contact. I was in my robe and maybe it's against their custom to look at some crazy woman standing on a balcony in her robe with a camera in hand.

To let you know who and if someone was in the ambulance, here's what happened next.

Because I am using a netbook in a foreign country, the service is sllllllooooowwww. So I will try to finish this blog in the next post.

The Mystery Continues

2010-08-18T20:19:00.005-04:00

On a recent trip to Charlotte, I met with Jennifer, a former classmate from Huntington High School. We hadn’t seen each other for twenty years, since our twenty-fifth class reunion, but we had talked on the phone several times. As we were talking she noticed on my right hand I was wearing my class ring. I had been wearing it for the last ten years, mainly because I thought it was beautiful and quite unusual as class rings go, and to be honest, I could finally get it back on my finger!

As our forty-fifth reunion approaches, Jennifer, who by now had scoured her condo and eventually found her ring, thought it would be interesting if we (that means me) could find some research on our rings. Two of the most important questions were, “Who designed the ring,” and “Who was the first class to wear it?” I tried to find the answers. I contacted Herff-Jones who sold our rings and got no reply except to tell me who the sales rep is in my area. You probably wonder how I knew it was Herff-Jones. As I was looking for old high school pictures, I found the envelope that my ring came in. Unbelievable. Thank God mother kept my mementos. Who knew forty-five years ago, thanks to Jennifer, I would be searching for clues about the ring? I also contacted many of our classmates from the class of ’65 on Facebook. They knew nothing. Things were not looking good. I was coming to a dead end.

Dick Tracy I’m not, and furthermore, living in Atlanta has tied my hands. I don’t have access to the Cabell County Board of Education’s archives, nor can I scour the microfiche at the Huntington Public Library. After talking with my sister, Janie and my friend, Barbara, all I can ascertain is this. I have my mother’s ring that is slightly different from mine. Her design has an H in the center with the year at the bottom of the oval. She graduated in 1919.

Another friend, Betty, has her mother’s ring who graduated in 1929. Judging from her description, the design seemed to change and include the image of our school in the center. Barbara’s mother graduated in 1939 and has the same design as my sister’s who graduated in 1957. My sister “loaned” hers to one of her boyfriends who consequently smashed it in a baseball game. Although it’s not in her possession, she assured me that our rings were of the same design except the year of their graduation is both at the bottom of the oval and on the sides. My ring has the image of Huntington High in the center and the year of our graduation is on the side, 1965. So sometime between 1919 and 1929 the new design was adopted, but when and by whom?

My diligence has come to an end. I’m giving up and throwing in the towel. Sadly, I have come to the realization that there is a strong possibility that our questions will never be answered. So I suppose they will go down in the annals of history and added to the list of other equally important questions from 1965, such as: “Did Sloopy hang on?,” “Who wrote the book of love?,” “Did Rhonda ever help?,” “What was the same old song?,” “Who won the name game?,” “Was the lovin’ feeling ever found?,” and finally, “What really went on under the boardwalk down by the sea?” Ponder this people, ponder this.

Authors Note:
Even though the origin of our rings remains a mystery, Jennifer and I will be wearing our rings this weekend. My friends Penny and Barbara won’t. Penny lost hers in the ocean. Barbara lost hers at the beach, but she has her mother’s, so she’ll probably wear hers. Other classmates, Alice, Barbara L., Toni and Tia still have theirs. I wonder if they’ll wear them to the reunion.

Age Spots and Belly Fat

2010-08-05T20:52:00.013-04:00

I admit it. These are two of my many flaws. It's so sad. And as you know my reunion is fast approaching and I'm concerned about them. I have to do something.

Two age spots are on my face and one on my neck. They look like giant freckles. When I was younger I though it would be great if all of my freckles blended together but that never happened. Now many years later, I'm faced with this delimma. So today I took action and went to the dermatologist. He was kind enough not to refer to them as age spots; he was compassionate and called them PRE-CANCEROUS. He mumbled something as he took a cotton swab and dabbed something on my face and neck that felt like a combination of acid and hot wax. He warned that it might sting a little. Sting? I wasn't brave; I don't like pain. When he treated the spot on my neck, I swear I thought it was burning through to my throat and I just knew I would have to have a tracheotomy. The good doctor assured me that they would dry up and fall off before the reunion. They better. His parting words were, "Don't pick." A man of few words.

Then there is the issue of belly fat. I've heard that this happens to middle-aged women, but when did I turn middle-aged? This kinda snuck up on me. I want to wear my white linen pants, but I think they might be too tight. Breathing is very important to me and it might be compromised if I don't do something about what is often called, "muffin top." I get it.

So to solve this problem I bought this.

A hula hoop. Not just any hula hoop. This is weighted and holds water. There are other hoops at Sports Authority but those are seriously weighted, so much so that I could break my ribs if I let that contraption circle my waist. The duck tape is helping to hold it together and to keep it from leaking.

Now all I have to do it re-learn how to actually hula hoop and find some serious make-up just in case the spots don't fall off.

Thank goodness for class reunions. They make us take stock of our bodies and our lives, don't they?

Twenty Days and Counting

2010-07-29T10:48:00.039-04:00

Another high school reunion is fast approaching. Conversations are often the same, "So Nancy, what have you been up to?," they will ask. With that in mind, I started thinking about what I've accomplished in the past five years. So here's what I've come up with in no particular order: become seriously interested in photography ("When does a hobby become an obsession?," my sister asks. "When I spend $600. on a lens," I answer.), joined Facebook, taken three photography classes at the Showcase School, taken four on-line photography classes at Kennesaw State, started volunteering at my local elementary school and stopped, spent over four hours hanging out under the Brooklyn Bridge taking hundreds of images while my hungry husband waited patiently... God, I love him,

worked as an extra in a television show (Drop Dead Diva), started writing this blog, spent two weeks traveling around Provence with my sister and brother-in-law,

figured out how to download songs according to the beat onto my iPod for walking, started an on-line shop on Etsy, done several art shows, planted lavender that actually lived, painted our front staircase in black and white, designed my own web page (in html no less...okay, I'm bragging), went to the Oprah Show in the middle of winter and got Gore's DVD instead of a car :(, went to NYC on a girl's trip with my three of my long-time friends, lost two friends to cancer, saw the Chihuly exhibit at both the Atlanta Botanical Gardens and the New York Botanical Gardens,

visited my niece's fourth grade class in Brooklyn and almost killed one student, joined a Bible study at church...still with it, started taking YOGA classes...absolutely HATE the plank pose, began a life-long study of Photoshop, really, and bought my first pair of Chuck Taylor Converse sneakers in RED!

That just about sums up my life for the past five years. I'm ready for the reunion. So tell me, what have you been up to?

It's A Jungle Out There

2010-07-20T17:14:00.011-04:00

The other morning as I was returning home from a morning walk, this is what was parked in the driveway. Not being a nature lover and having a serious fear of reptiles, I was in a tizzy. Although I admit that I have zero to no nurturing in my being, I did feel somewhat sorry for the turtle; it was hot and she was in the sun with no water in sight.
Before getting water, I did what any other blogger would do...run to get the camera. I don't know why I broke my neck to get it in seconds, I was dealing with a turtle. By the time I returned she had moved maybe two inches. This turtle was shy...camera shy. I had to sneek up on it to get this shot. She was kinda cute.

My next move was to get the water. Because she was so low to the ground, I had to find something shallow. A lid! I border on genius. I also had to confine the reptile until I could decide on my next step. I found a wire basket that normal people use to store sweaters in those closet systems, but I had used it to cover daisies as they were growing to keep them from being the rabbits' lunch. Again, genius.

Next I had to deal with the sun. Got an umbrella and positioned it over the basket. I know, it's overwhelming.

After I got her comfortable I called Barbara and gave her a quick update. She mentioned that I might want to give her some lettuce. Done. She was starting to pout.

Now she was really pouting. Bless her heart, she kept trying to get out of her new home by banging her head against the basket. By this time I was exhaused. After an hour or so I decided that she had to go.

I called and begged my neighbor, Lee, who has two wonderful boys, to adopt this creature. She really didn't want to, but as luck would have it, one of her boys overheard our conversation and started to beg. Lee caved. She offered to come later that afternoon. Actually her two sons, Garrett and Evan, ended up walking over with a shoe box in tow. I didn't hear them, I must have been napping from the exhausing day, so I went over to her house and took this shot. Aren't they handsome? They had already done research and told me that it was a female box turtle. Handsome and smart...the boys, not the turtle.

After saying my goodbyes, I took one final shot. She was still pouting. After all I've done for her and that's the thanks I got. She was one ungrateful turtle.

Look Who's Moved In!

2010-06-28T22:00:00.006-04:00

Earlier this month I noticed a lot of activity among our bird population going on outside the kitchen window. There is a shade attached to the window frame that we use when it gets Africa hot here in Atlanta. Because we were having company over Memorial Day I rolled the shade up and forgot to unroll it until it was too late. This is what I saw as I was trying to get to the bottom of all of the racket going on. It appeared to be the beginning of a bird's nest. Not being much of a bird lover, I was all for unrolling the welcome mat, but Tom with his new found affection to feathered creatures, unbeknownst to me, thought we should keep it up, thus encouraging the invasion.

So twenty-five days later we have newborns. This morning momma bird and daddy bird were besides themselves signaling to anyone within five miles that their babies had arrived. I'm getting no peace.
God love 'em, but does anyone know how long it will take before they set sail? Here's the thing of it: I know it's not all about me, but really, it's as hot as blue blazes and I need my shade back.

SYMMETRY

2010-06-22T18:49:00.011-04:00

Eye on Composition was the title of my last photography class. As you can probably guess, we focused on the rules of composition, you know, like color, leading lines, depth, scale, and the rule of thirds to name a few. As I studied the images that I shot during the six week period, I discovered that I seem to gravitate to the rule called symmetry. This surprises me because I like to think that I am very non-traditional and occasionally like to buck the rules. Some call it living "out of the box."

I think I like to venture "out of the box," but I suppose shooting "out of the box" is kinda risky. Every time take a "funky" shot or try to make it "funky" with the help of Photoshop, my husband and friends don't like it. Okay there was one shot that I took at the beach that was definitely OOTB (out of the box) and my friend, Karen, liked it...so I gave it to her.

To me, symmetry is calm and expected. It is what it is. I consider it "in the box." That can be boring, so I try to add some excitement in post-processing. The image below was shot at Piedmont Park in Atlanta this spring. Our instructor said that reflections are almost always symmetrical, so I found the lake and shot it. If I had cropped it right under the water line, it wouldn't have been symmetrical, but you already know that. This image still needs some work, but you get the picture.

The next image was taken behind a restaurant situated on the Chattahoochee River. To take this shot I had to venture "out of the box," meaning that my "grip" (Karen) and I had to sneak around the back of the property and hope no one was there. It was Memorial Day and thankfully the restaurant was closed. This is the front of a huge leaf on a plant that I have no idea what it is. All I know is that it's another example of symmetry.

So here's what I think. I'm confused when it comes to thinking and living. I think OOTB, but most of the time I live ITB. It's so sad.

Back to Bluffton

2010-04-08T17:23:00.009-04:00

To get ready for my next photography class, I started going through old images searching for those that got lost in the "art show" confusion. When I choose images for shows, I select images that I think would appeal to the general public. I guess I didn't think these would be popular, so they didn't make the cut.

This image was obviously ignored because of the exposure. Way too dark. I know with Photoshop that this image could be lightened but I guess I wasn't that interested in "messing with it." It was a cloudy day in Bluffton, South Carolina, but that didn't stop me from taking hundreds of pictures.
After brightening the image, I could actually see the moss and ivy as it twisted around the old oak tree. The image still looks dull.

Still determined to save this image, I used a technique using layers, curves and finally filters. It is amazing what Photoshop can do.

Here it is in black and white, but I like the color image better.

So before class begins on April 27th, I'll be searching my files for forgotten images. I think I'm finished with trees. Wonder what's next?

Happy Easter!

2010-04-02T19:35:00.001-04:00

Cherry Grove

2010-03-25T21:06:00.025-04:00

So there I was on the pier at Cherry Grove taking about a zillion images of the beach and the cottages when I spotted a wedding taking place on the beach. It was a beautiful day for a wedding; there was a slight breeze and not a cloud in the sky. I hadn't seen a wedding on the beach for years, not since little Mary K got married years ago, so I thought I'd just watch for a while. The longer I watched, the more I laughed. I couldn't help it. Then I started taking pictures because I knew this was going to be a post on my blog.

Remember this was the middle of March and the beach was not crowded. Most of the people behaved as though this happened all of the time. I guess they were trying to mind their own business and not intrude. People continued to walk their dogs and play in the sand. But there was one man who was not going to let a little thing like a WEDDING stop him from what he had on his list to do that day...search for metal, i.e. gold! For the sake of anonymity, let's just call him Floyd.

Here's Floyd at the beginning of the ceremony. Trying to act nonchalant, as if nothing is going on. But wait, there's more.

He continues his quest for gold. If you want to know more about this "hobby," go to www.aquaexplorers.com/metaldetectingbeachhunting.htm

Then he moved...and woke up!

He stops for a minute to watch the proceedings.

Floyd realized that this was going to take longer that he wanted to wait. The ceremony was over, but the picture-taking began. He figured there was no way he would be able to search that area so he starts to leave.
Bless his heart. Bye Floyd, you made my day.

Meanwhile back at the ceremony...I'm not getting this shot. One, she's getting her dress wet, and two, does she really want a shot of her back side?

I'll bet they're trying to figure out how to get those people out of their 2011 Christmas card shot.

This is the last image I shot before racing off to find Floyd. I think I might trade my camera for a metal detector. On the other hand, I'm getting kinda good at sneaking around so I might look into private investigating. So much to ponder.

YOU TELL ME

2010-03-18T10:30:00.001-04:00

I applied for a popular art show in another state and recently received THE rejection letter. Several weeks later their website posted a list of all the artists that were accepted. Being the competitive person I am, I checked out each of the photographers to see how I compared as a photographer. So here we are. I have inserted two images below.

One was accepted and one wasn't. One is mine and one isn't. Mine was shot last year at Brookgreen Gardens. One was shot in the summer and one in the winter, thus the lack of leaves in the top image. I converted mine to black and white to make it easier to compare.

Tell me what you think. Can you guess which one is in the show?

It's A Nab For Heaven's Sakes...

2010-03-09T10:00:00.000-05:00

NOT a sandwich cracker.

A couple of months ago, George, my stepson, (he really is a bright kid...graduated from Calhoun Honors College at Clemson) was in the car with us going to Charlotte. We made a quick stop at a rest area where we bought some snacks, a.k.a. junk food. As we continued our trek north on 85, I opened a pack and said to George, "Would you like a NAB?" His reply, "What's a nab?" What? It was like a knee jerk reaction. I looked at Tom and he looked at me in total disbelief. Shocked. Speechless. Reading each other's mind, we were thinking, "What did he just say?"

I ask you this. How could anyone raised in the south or even the southeast, not know what a NAB is? Since I am his stepmother and he didn't come into my life until he was fourteen, I take absolutely no responsiblily for this blatant failure in parenting.

But wait, there's more. One evening a few weeks ago, as I was watching television as I'm prone to do anytime after 8:00 A.M., I saw a commercial that almost caused me to hyperventilate. They were advertising NABS but were calling them "sandwich crackers." Help me Rhonda! No one, and I mean no one who I know calls them sandwich crackers. They are quite simply, NABS.

So to quell this confusion this is a NAB.

And this is a pack of NABS.

It's that simple. Will someone please tell the Lance people.

A Southern Snow

2010-02-26T18:19:00.011-05:00

My sister just called from sunny California to give me an update on the weather. She does this when she knows I'm freezing here in the south. It seems that it's somewhere around 75 degrees there and it's a balmy 45 degrees here. For those of you who care, it's 10 degrees cooler than it's supposed to be...and I'm not happy.

All of this weather talk reminded me of the snow that we had a few weeks ago. It started on a Friday afternoon and continued through the night. The images below appear to be black and white because the snow was falling so fast that it completely blocked out any light.

The next day the sun appeared but the snow stayed with us for much of the day.

Looks just like cotton candy.

I hope that's it for snow this winter.

Note: I wrote this post a week ago, thinking the snow was over for the winter. Today (March 2nd) it's here again. As my friend Susan would say, "Oy vey!"

The Flowers Are Blooming at the... Part II

2010-02-11T21:19:00.006-05:00

Southeastern Flower Show

As you can tell, the flowers were absolutely beautiful. They even had grass. Most of it was mondo, but I though this was pretty, so green, so spring and no bugs, no fire ants.

This is a quince; my new favorite flower. Well actually it's a bush. I've got to get busy and try to find one for Tom to plant. I know he's going to be thrilled. Where is the shovel?

So there I was in a great mood, walking around silently planning a garden, when I spotted the photography exhibit. I walked back and fourth, pacing both sides of the exhibit, wondering why my submissions had been refused. I still don't get it. I noticed one photographer had nine, count 'em nine entries. Not fair. Obviously political. Humm. Maybe if I bought a macro lens. Something to think about. Here is one side of the exhibit.

Yep, I was having a mood swing. An African photo shoot is not in my future. I'm not getting this image.
My mood was getting worse by the minute. This image won first place. It is obviously a black and white. It was good. Not my taste, but obviously good enough to win. Could this be sour grapes on my part?
Just when I was feeling sorry for myself, guess who I bumped into? None other than P. Allen Smith! Another mood swing. Things were definitely looking up. When I saw him, I laughed and said, "I didn't know you were going to be here!" (Like he should have called me first!) I told him that I just had to take his picture. He and his escort laughed, and she offered to take a shot with the both of us. What a hoot! What a gentleman!

A few minutes later he began his presentation. For those of you who don't know who P. Allen Smith is, go to his website: www.pallensmith.com. He is an amazing garden designer and represents Bonnie Nurseries. I have one of his books and he's often on the Today Show.

As he spoke, he walked among us, asking questions. He combined sarcasm and humor as he entertained us with his vast knowledge of garden design.

Oh no, here he comes toward the back row. Please, please don't ask me a question.

He did. Something about me growing lettuce. If he only knew. The only thing green about me was the scarf I was wearing.

The Flowers Are Blooming in Atlanta At The..Part I

2010-02-05T23:25:00.017-05:00

Southeaster Flower Show!

Earlier this week I volunteered at the flower show. Trust me, I know very little about flowers, but I do love them. My job title was a "runner" which meant that I took plants from the "passers" table to the show where the "stagers" placed them in their sections to be judged. Before last year I didn't know that folks could bring their plants and flowers for competition. I think a lot of garden clubs and master gardeners participate because the process is rather complicated and they thrive on the competition. As a thank you for volunteering, I was given a free ticket to the show. So two days later and I was there with my camera ready just immerse myself in spring.

This was what I saw when I first walked in the room. Six gorgeous cherry trees. Earlier I watched as the workers used a fork lift to place them in their planters.

Vignettes were located near the entrance. This was one of the larger ones. They are full of ideas for those who are ready to put thousands of dollars in their yards, thus transforming a plain old yard into a garden!

Obviously there were thousands of flowers. Here are white snapdragons

and pink snapdragons,

and a variety of snapdragons. I like snapdragons but not one lives in my garden. (This image was blurry so I just added a touch of photoshop.)

And there were lots of shops. Here's a cute one.

Oops! I have a stud finder (Home Depot), but do I need this?

Then I saw this. I needed one, but couldn't decide on a color...so I left...the shop, not the show!

Placed near the vignettes were tables that were judged. This is one of them. I try to stay apolitical on this blog, but I thought this was pretty darn creative. They didn't win. If you peek behind the water bottle, you'll see Al's pic in the chair.

That about sums up Part I. The second part will include the photo competition and a very, very special speaker. Did my photo get in the exhibition? Do you know the famous garden planner? Stay tuned.

It Was Too Soon

2010-01-22T17:34:00.011-05:00

My sister and I just returned from a short visit to our hometown. The purpose of our trip was to attend a memorial service for a family friend who had passed away after a long and painful illness. She died too soon. I know we always think that, but she did. She was only fifty-nine. Although I didn't see her during her illness, her mother kept us informed throughout her struggle so we knew how hard she was fighting to live.

She was fortunate to have the comfort of lots of family and friends. At the service I met her two beautiful daughters...very strong...had their mother's gorgeous looks and her personality. It was a pleasant surprise to meet her granddaughter who looked just like she did when she was her age. Both Karla and her husband had many, many friends, some of whom were members of the theatre group at the local university where her husband is on the faculty. Our Karla was a wife, mother, grandmother, daughter, sister, aunt, niece, and a friend to many. I will always remember her smile and her infectious laughter. She was an inspiration to us all.

F.Y.I., Karla's the one in the highchair. That's me probably trying to sneak a piece of cake! This was just one of our many, many birthday parties...thanks to our very loving parents. I bet Karla's mother, Doris, made those fancy hats.

Here's The Real Reason I Went To New York

2010-01-06T19:50:00.022-05:00

Almost two months ago on Friday, November 13th, Tom came home from work with a copy of USA Today. He showed me an article about a, no, THE photographer, Robert Frank. He thought that maybe I would want to see the exhibit, without him, of course because he's still working, not retired, like I.

The article was about an exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art that was honoring the fiftieth anniversary of Frank's book, The Americans. Various towns were mentioned in the article where Frank visited and shot the images. Towns such as, Charleston, Detroit, Memphis, Hoboken, San Francisco and Miami Beach to name a few. Since I love black and white photography and I've never had a history of photography class, I though it would be a great reason to visit my favorite city. Also going there at Christmas just made the trip more enticing.

So then I started thinking. Maybe I could fly up and back in the same day, but if I did there would be no way that I could make the lecture that would be taking place 11:00. It was too chancy. Soon one day turned into two. I talked to friends about going with me and one in particular seemed interested, and that was Karen. She often accompanies me on my local shoots and even went with me to a show in Myrtle Beach. Karen was apprenhensive in the beginning because she still teaches and didn't want to take the days. I finally had to have a "come to Jesus" meeting with her and it worked!

Three and one half weeks later we were on our way to New York. We left Wednesday afternoon so we could be at the museum bright and early on Thursday morning. We were able to hear two lectures that morning. The first one was way out there and was called, "Surface Tension: Contemporary Photographs from the Collection." Although it was way out of the box, the associate pointed out some interesting facts. Did you know that you can take a photograph of a painting hanging in a museum (with permission and no flash please) and incorporate it into your own composition? Yep, you can. That was all I needed to hear to motivate me to spend some time later that day snapping Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet and Manet. I've got them all in my computer just waiting to bust loose in some future masterpiece.

Oops, two got loose. The first on is Monet. You can see his signature in the lower right corner.

This one is obviously Van Gogh.

Back to Frank. The lecture on his work was led by the curator of photography, Jeff Rosenheim. There was a huge group of people and 83 photographs to view. The lecture lasted over an hour and was extremely interesting. After working for Vanity Fair magazine, Frank came up with the idea to spend a year traveling the United States and photographing it's people in their day to day activities. In order to do this, he had to find a way to finance the project because he had a family and it was going to be costly. He applied for a Guggenheim Grant and was accepted. The grant, both the rough draft and the final copy were on display. In the application was the question, "What do you plan to do with the grant?", and his answer was "take pictures." I can't remember who the proofreader was, but it was rephrased in the final copy kinda like the way my mother "rephrased" my term papers, only on a different level. At one point the curator was replying to a question and said, "Robert thought that...," then he paused and looked around the room and said that he wanted to give the correct answer because sometimes Robert joined the crowd and listened to the lecture. What a hoot! He lives in Manhattan.

This is the cover of the book with an image taken in New Orleans. If you look closely, you will see that this image epitomised the south in the fifties.

Yes, it was worth the trip and yes, I bought the book. Aaaannnnnndddddd, I need to put more people in my shots...at least some of the time.

Here's A Tip

2009-12-27T16:21:00.021-05:00

As Karen and I were having lunch at the Metropolitan Museum, we started discussing what we would do that night (Thursday). We both agreed that a play would be nice, but neither one of us had done any research on the availability of seats. So I pulled out my trusty cell phone and called my sister in California. Lucky for me she was sitting at her computer and was able to pull up the current listing of plays in New York. She read the description of several ones; a woman who sat next to me on the plane was going to Burn The Floor, but I wanted something with a plot. We finally agreed on Memphis. ...Since we would have to buy them at the theatre, we planned to leave at six and walk the fourteen blocks in the 27 degree freezing temperature. In addition to the freezing cold and wind, I was carrying my camera with the new wide angle lens. Love it.

We walked down Sixth Avenue bundled up looking like we were ready for a blizzard. We walked from Fifty-seventh Street down Seventh Avenue through Times Square, where I affectionately refer to as HELL, and then took a right on Forty-fourth Street. We walked one more block and there it was, The Shubert Theatre. When we walked in the lobby (about 12 feet by 6 feet) I approached the ticket agent by the name of Craig. After learning that there were tickets available the negotiations began. Be patient, the TIP is coming.

After the pleasantries, I told Craig that we didn't want zillion dollar seats. Furthermore,we didn't care if we were in the last row of the balcony...it just didn't matter to us. That seemed to go in one ear and out the other because he showed me a floor plan and pointed to seats smack dab in the center section, ten rows back. I knew they were expensive because Janie, my sister, told me during our conversation that they started at $121.50. After Craig told me the price, I told him AGAIN, that we wanted the cheap seats. Then he showed me something a little less expensive and again I declined. Here's where it happened. Read slowly.

I laughed and told him that I knew he wanted to reach through the window and strangle me because I sold tickets for the Braves wayyyy back and I wanted to kill people who behaved like I was behaving, i.e. "Are they in the shade ?", "Are they on the right side or the left side of the section because I don't want to be distracted by people walking up and down the aisles ?", and "Are they under the overhang because we want to be in the shade ?", and on and on. Then I heard a voice behind the window asking if I sold tickets during the time that the Yankees beat the Braves. I told him it was before (as if I knew) and this started an amicable conversation. After Craig and the mysterious voice had a short conversation that I couldn't hear, although my ear was almost going through the window, Craig showed me the same seats that he offered at $121.50. Then he peered behind me to see who was standing behind me and saw that a line was forming. So instead of telling me the new price, he wrote it on a scrap of paper and showed me- $69.50. I accepted the new price and thanked him profusely. The mysterious man said something about extending the discount because I had been in "the business". Little did I know twenty some years ago that working for the Braves in those teensy, claustrophobic ticket booths after teaching all day would years later get me a $52.00 discount on a Broadway ticket! So that's the tip. Be nice, smile, try to joke with them, and when all else fails, tell them you used to sell tickets for the Braves. It's just me, but I would try the first three and only use the last one if you really did sell tickets for the Braves. You never know.

By the way, the play was wonderful and was worth the long walk to and from Broadway. Here are some of the shots I took with my new lens.

Thank you Craig and thank you Braves!

IF YOU HAVEN'T HEARD OF HER, YOU WILL

2009-12-14T10:03:00.020-05:00

Last Friday, as we were waiting for my sister, Ann, to arrive from Connecticut, Karen (my friend who traveled with me to New York) and I decided to walk over to Columbus Circle and walk around the Time Warner Center. Besides, I knew there was a cute little restaurant on the third floor where we could have a coke and look out the HUGE window to watch millions of people play dodge ball with the cabs.

The decorations were drop-dead gorgeous. The stars that were hanging from the rafters changed colors in rhythm to the music. (More on this is a later post.) As we took the escalator to the second floor on the way to the restaurant, I tried to free my camera from the depths of my bag so I could take two or three thousand pictures. Digital is a miracle. As we were climbing on the escalator and after I got my hands on the camera, I spotted Borders Bookstore. I knew it was there and I was using their snack bar as a back up just in case the wait at the restaurant was too long. But before we continued our trek to the third floor I spotted a huge sign in the window of Borders. There were pictures of about six people who would be signing books soon with their schedules. I couldn't believe what I was reading. Lo and behold, the Pioneer Woman (http://www.thepioneerwoman.com/) was going to be there that evening to sign her cookbook. She was in Atlanta the Monday before I left for New York, but I couldn't go and I was just sick about it. Those of you who do not know who she is, you will.

Side Bar: Ree Drummond, aka The Pioneer Woman, has a blog. It is absolutely the best blog that I have ever read. It's divided into sections: confessions, photography, cooking, and home and garden. Of course my favorite part of her blog is photography. She puts the process into every day lingo that is easily understood. You really should take the time and check it out, but it will take hours if you try to read it all at one sitting.

After seeing the notice in the window, I had to go in the store and get the low down. Poor Karen, she followed me into the store as I was mumbling, drooling, and running all over the store trying to find the book. Finally I got control of myself and found a really nice man who took me to the front counter and asked one of the folks to show me THE BOOK. That is when I met Amanda H. She is an angel. She not only showed me the book, but looked up my Borders club number so I could get a discount on the purchase price AND, get this, gave me THREE wrist bands so we could get seats at the discussion and the signing. "Good grief", I thought, "this is New York, people aren't supposed to be this nice and certainly not this helpful." But she was and it didn't end there.

I told Amanda all about The Pioneer Woman. Bless her heart, she really hadn't heard of her until recently. As she was showing us where the discussion and book signing was going to take place, she mentioned that the Atlanta signing had over 800 people. When I saw that they only had sixty chairs, I worried. But I didn't need to.

When my sister arrived at the hotel, Karen and I met her, exchanged pleasantries, and then I began educating her about the PW. She was willing to go with us, but I couldn't see any enthusiasm. She didn't "get" the whole PW thing, but I had confidence that she would. We had to leave the hotel around five to get there in plenty of time. We also knew that we had to leave Borders at seven to get to Lincoln Center to see the Nutcracker. Sadly, I had given up hope of having her sign my book. When we arrived we found Amanda H. and my sister asked her if there were any books left because she wanted to buy one. Amanda being the angel she is, took Ann's credit card and even gave her my discount! Amazing. Get this...she knew that we had to leave early (she also has a great memory) so she took our books in the back of the store where PW was waiting and asked her to sign them for us! She should be Employee of the Year. Maybe I'll write a letter.

At around six, out came PW. She was dressed in black, and had a sweet smile. She answered about fifteen questions from the two or three hundred in attendance. As soon as she started signing books we made a quick exit.

What surprised me was that PW seemed timid. I imagined her to be really outgoing and she probably is when she isn't in front of a huge NYC crowd and her publisher. She writes in some of her posts that she's always nervous, but she doesn't need to be...everyone there loved her!

We met a nice young man while we waited, named James. James was from Oklahoma, where PW lives, but was working in NYC at Bank of America. He knew almost everything about her. He's her friend on FB and Twitter. In fact, he got a tweet from her as we were talking. What a hoot! James also likes to cook, thus the cookbook. (Sorry for the blurred shot, James. I only brought my wide angle lens.) I don't cook, but I did buy the book just in case the mood strikes. Truth be told, if she wrote a book on dirt, I'd probably buy it. I'm a fan, what can I say?

He Missed A Few

2009-11-02T12:10:00.021-05:00

What you see here is a few berries holding on to a very tired dogwood tree. There has been a race for the past few weeks among the squirrels to see who could grab and eat the most berries. Now these gluttonous squirrels are too heavy to reach the ends of the branches and that makes it impossible to reach the tips. I'm sure they are just itching to get to them, but they don't want to take the plunge. Get it?

Watching the squirrels (rats with furry tails) reminds me of that song that goes, "he glides through the air with the greatest of ease, the daring young man in the flying trapeze." I have no idea when or where I heard it, but it has stayed with me for a million years. It's amazing how we can retrieve the smallest phrases, but can't remember what we did last week. Early stages?

Side bar: Over lunch the other day, I was discussing this post with Maria, a friend who I taught two hundred years ago. Being the smartest kid on the block, she went back to work (Georgia Tech) after lunch and looked it up. So here are the first few verses of that song.

THE MAN ON THE FLYING TRAPEZE (George Leybourne) Walter O'Keefe - 1934 Don Redman & His Orch. - 1936 Also recorded by: Eddie Cantor; Burl Ives; Cliff "Ukelele Ike" Edwards; Spike Jones; Ian Whitcomb; Les Paul & Mary Ford.

Once I was happy, but now I'm forlorn

Like an old coat that is tattered and torn;

Left on this world to fret and to mourn,

Betrayed by a maid in her teens.

The girl that I loved she was handsome;

I tried all I knew her to please

But I could not please her one quarter so well

As the man upon the trapeze.

He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease,

That daring young man on the flying trapeze.

His movements were graceful,

all girls he could please

And my love he purloined away.

And if you want to hear Bruce Springsteen sing it, here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voXHqkN2k9Q

Thanks for the help, Maria.

Back to business: So anyway, I went outside hoping to get a shot of one of the millions who think our backyard is the big top. I found one, but he was sneaky.

Then he changed positions. I wish I had a shotgun in my hand instead of a camera.

Here he is ready to fly. Does he make it?

He made it. Darn.

While I'm at it, I might as well confess that I'm taking yet another photography class. I'll be out and about shooting images as assigned. I took the next three images in the backyard while I was practicing with my telephoto lens.

The next image was one I took to class. Our teacher says that every picture tells a story. He's trying to make us think when we shoot, as if trying to figure out aperture, shutter speed, white balance and composition isn't enough. Anyway, to make a long story short, he gave us a list of words to describe our images and we chose two. The word I attached to this one was color. He agreed but said I should have lightened the berries. He said his eye went to the sun spot and it was competing with the berries. My eye goes to the berries. I didn't tell him that.

By now you're starting to notice that the background is blurred. It's called bokeh.

There you have it. Until next time.

He said, "cute don't sell."

2009-10-19T20:27:00.012-04:00

That's a direct quote from my next door neighbor at The Chastain Park Arts Festival this past weekend. He was referring to my posters that were hanging in my tent just waiting for someone to take them home. Darryl, a master photographer (http://www.lanefineartphotography.com/), was partly correct. I sold one poster of Midtown Atlanta a few weeks ago at Garden Hills, and at Chastain I sold two. I don't know if the two I sold at Chastain would be considered posters because I removed the names from the bottom of the images. So, I wonder what makes a poster, a poster? If a poster has to have the name of the image on it, then I suppose I actually didn't sell two posters at Chastain, I sold two framed images. But, I have to admit, they were cute.

Here's one of the "posters" that I sold.
Here's the cute version.

Every time I do an arts festival, I learn something. This was my 10th show, but I think you need to have 20 or 30 under your belt before you can be considered serious. This is a business for most of the artists participating; they don't play. For example, it was a miserable day on Saturday. It was cold, cloudy, and windy. I was wait-listed (long story) and that meant that I had to show up early Saturday morning to see if anyone had dropped out, thus creating a vacant space. I really, really wanted to renege, but since we packed the car Friday night, and the promoter was kind enough to include me as one of the TWO who were wait-listed, I had to proceed. So when I uttered a teensy complaint about my discomfort, Darryl just laughed and shook his head. Again, this is his business. These people do shows almost every weekend. It's not a hobby to them...it's their bread and butter.

I can't begin to express how fortunate I was to have a master photographer "next door." He gave me tips on bags, framing, sizing, displaying, selling and future shows. We had several debates, one of which involved pricing. There should be a class on the psychology of pricing. Maybe there already is, I would love to take it. Another debate involved morning shoots. He loves to get up at 4:30 and watch the sun rise where he's shooting. I, on the other hand, hate to get up before the sun. There's something just not natural about that. I'd rather get the shots during the day and at sunset. The final issue we disagreed on was information about the image. He thinks it's okay to provide the shopper with the location, the camera settings, etc. I think that info should remain with the photographer. Most photographers whom I have spoken with are really quite vague with the details. Although I try my best not to tell everything, sometimes it just slips out. Fortunately most of the time I really can't remember the details. Let's see, was that shot at Pawley's Island or Cherry Grove? Sometimes all of the beaches look alike.

So Darryl's leaving in a few weeks for a two month trip to Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam. I can't wait to see what images he returns with. If you have time, go to his website and look at the images. He hand tints most of his work. Amazing.

By the way, I will gladly send anyone (in the USA) a mini poster (4X6 framed), at no charge, if you just leave a comment on my blog. I'll place lots more posters to choose from in the right hand column. I think I'm going out of the poster business and stick with framed images. Maybe I'll put them on Etsy or maybe I'll take them to a show at the beach. Bet they'll sell there...or not. Stay tuned.

We'll Miss You, Nancy Faye Tribble

2009-08-08T19:37:00.023-04:00

December 11, 1954 - July 23, 2009

It just happened. You know when someone who you love has just died and you think of something to tell her/him and you get smacked in the head with reality? You can't tell her anything, ANYMORE? There was an ad on television about Paul McCartney coming to Atlanta for a concert next week. I started thinking about who I know who would possibly want to go, and I thought of Nancy Tribble. Well, guess what, she can't go; we lost her last week.

About three hours ago, I returned home from attending her service and the celebration afterwards. Being a teacher and a friend to so many, there were well over 150 in attendance. It was one of the most beautiful and meaningful services I have ever attended. Two of her good friends sang and her brother, Randy, and friend, Mary, spoke. They both told stories about her life and how it affected those who were her family and friends. Randy told us about the family and the times he spent with Nancy as a child. He also explained her illness and her constant struggle to survive. In Mary's eulogy, she asked several questions that related to our experiences with Nancy. For example, "Have you ever gone grocery shopping with Nancy?" That caused a laugh from many of us who had that excruciating experience. Mine was a little over a year ago.

Nancy had just had another surgery and after a lengthy stay in the hospital she was being released from Emory. I volunteered to take her home and get her settled. I can't remember which surgery this was, but she was able to walk and take care of herself. After she got in the car at the hospital, she asked me if I could make a quick stop at Publix so she could get some groceries. Thinking that she really did mean "quick," and I knew she wouldn't have much energy, I agreed. I had no idea what I was in for. This was my first and last trip to the grocery store with her. After you went grocery shopping with her once, you never went again. She fancied herself of somewhat a gourmet cook, so every piece of fruit and every vegetable had to be examined. You would think she was the chef at the Ritz. To make a long story short, I was ready to explode. I think she was used to getting this reaction from others, because she totally ignored my expressions and body language and continued on her merry way up and down the aisles. After an hour or maybe a little less, we were on the way to her condo. I was fuming and she was happy.

Then about two weeks ago, she asked if she could spend the weekend with me because her friends who were taking care of her, Mary and Doreen, were having company and she wanted to give them her room. So I drove to Macon with my friend Penny, picked her up and brought her to Atlanta. As we were nearing my house, I began to discuss my plan regarding her meals, etc. I told her that I would get her in the house and settled and then go to the store and buy what she wanted. She expressed in her weakened state that maybe WE could stop at Publix and shop together. She was trying it again. Penny was sitting in the back seat and was somewhat surprised by my reaction to Tribble when I replied, "NO, HELL NO!" Tribble had given it the old college try, as they say. To calm Penny down, I told her about my fateful trip to the store a year ago.

I know lots of folks hate going to funeral services, but they're a part of life. It gives us a chance to listen to stories about our friend or family member and honor them. It's okay to laugh and to cry. We did both. Because Tribble was so funny, I think we did more laughing than crying. I really believe that she would have been proud of what was said about her. Proud that Jolly and Leslie sang, proud of Randy and Mary's eulogies, and proud that so many of her friends, especially the Tift women, came to honor and remember her. The song that the Tift girls sang was truly beautiful. She was honored and that would have made her happy.

Below I have included pictures that were in her program.

After the service, everyone was invited to continue the celebration at her brother, Robb and his wife, Pam's home.

Pictured below are her three brothers: Randy, Steven, and Robb.

"Old, old friends" (HA!), Doreen, Debra, and Mary.

Her two ex-roommates, Leslie (who sang at the service) and Sherry.

Marie, her friend from Fernandino Beach and Nancy Faye (in the urn).

School friends from way back, Nettie, Yolanda and Pat.

And finally, the Tiftettes!

I'll post more pictures on my Facebook page later. It was a celebration to remember. What a wonderful group of friends she had!

As you can tell, Nancy Tribble was a friend to many. She will live forever in our hearts and never, never, be forgotten.

Well, Damn

2009-07-18T08:39:00.008-04:00

Here I sit, early on a Saturday morning typing on my blog, when I should be fast asleep. "Why am I up so early ?" you might ask. "Because the damn water heater leaked all over the garage last night," I might answer. I'm not going to import a picture of the leaky water heater, it would just depress you. Here's how it started.

Last night before going upstairs to bed, I checked the garage like I do most nights. I'm in charge of security around here. I was making sure the doors were down...don't want any intruders...four legged or two legged, when I spotted the leak. How could I miss it, it looked like Katrina had come to visit (I exaggerate), or that monsoon segment in the movie Jumanji. Anyway, to make his day or evening, I alerted Tom with a shrill that could be heard from miles. You can just imagine his delight. Words came out of his mouth that would make Lucifer look like Beaver Cleaver.

Needless to say, we started moving stuff away from the walls so we could begin the fun task of sweeping stuff (you know what I want to say) out of the garage. In between dirty looks and snide remarks, we talked about whom to call. He didn't want to call Sears again and I didn't want to call the plumbers who we usually call.

In Atlanta there is a company that advertises constantly. As luck would have it,I've memorized their phone number because their jingle stays with you. It goes like this, "Trust Superior, the honest one, call 770-422-plum." How could you forget it? (Imagine what you heard after seeing either the play or the movie Mama Mia.) Being honest and all, we or really Tom called them this morning at 6:45. John, the honest one, was here an hour later. After all of the pleasantries, he inspected the situation and started with the questions. Size, code, cut-offs, and water pressure were discussed. Tom and I both glazed over after 20 minutes of stimulating conversation. We hadn't had anything to eat or drink because, you know, the water was turned off. We were in a weakened state.

Then came the dreaded price book. We weren't that concerned because I had my booklet with the receipt of the leaky water heater purchase. ( My filing system is, I must say phenomenal.) We bought it in 1997 from Sears at $440. It couldn't be that much more, could it? Even if we went from a 40 gallon to a 50 gallon, how much more could it be? About $1000. more, that's how much!

So, that's it. Exactly $1365.90 (including my $25.00 coupon from the internet) later, the honest one has completed the job, Tom is watching the golf tournament...it's 3:15 in England and I'm going to take a nap.

Here are a few shots of our next vacation.

As Walter, God love him, would say, "And that's the way it is."

July 4, 2009

2009-07-06T21:09:00.010-04:00

It was early in the morning when I took this shot. I wanted to get to the beach before the crowds started to descend, but it didn't exactly work out like I planned...it never does. When I arrived the walkers were already there. By now I've learned how to play "cat and mouse" and I play it with a lot of patience. In most of my shots, I wait for a gap and then quickly take the picture. In the image below, I gave up and took it with the walkers. I was trying to capture the feeling of peace and quiet on the beach in the morning.

Then four hours later, look what happened to that peace and quiet! I took this shot through the window of our hotel. That explains the reflection on the left of the image and the blue tint.

I wanted to get a closer look, so I thought I would just mosey on down there and mingle among the crowds. Here are upclose and personal images of the masses. As I was enhancing the images, I found this filter. Gotta love Photoshop! This image was taken facing west. In case you were worrying, since this is a public place (beach), I didn't have to get signed releases. Hah, as if.

This image was taken facing north.

Facing north again.

This image was much clearer when I downloaded it, but I just wanted to try some funky stuff. I am liking funky.

I could have taken some really humorous shots, but it was around five in the afternoon and most of these folks were deep into the grape, so I didn't try it. I'm not that sneeky. Maybe if I wore a press pass they would think I was official. There's always next year.

It's all about the light, and the camera, and photoshop, and the classes, and the...

2009-06-02T10:54:00.013-04:00

I love to take pictures. I really, really do. But to get the perfect lighting outside means getting up early...very early, and I really, really, hate to get up early. Since I entered "transition" (I refuse to use the word retirement) I don't "do dark." Meaning that I don't get out of bed until the sun is up.

To show you an example of taking a picture when there is full sun, look below. I took this on Hilton Head in the middle of the afternoon.

Can you see the huge shadow on the surface? When I took this shot about three years ago, I thought it was breathtaking. Sure, the color is good and the composition is okay. Maybe I should have composed the horizon differently, but the major flaw is the shadow. To get this shot without the shadow would mean opening my eyes before sunrise, and as I said before, I don't "do dark."

But there is another way and I was lucky enough to have my camera in hand. Well that's not exactly true. Here's how it happened. A few weeks ago, three friends and I were on the beach on Hilton Head just talking away, catching up, with not a care in the world, when this major cloud appeared. So, the Ansella Adams who I think I am, sprang into action. I ran, or walked briskly (depending on whom is telling this story) to the condo and grabbed my camera so I could get the shot. Truth be told, I had contemplated getting up early to get the shot but here was my chance to get it without "doing dark." As all digital photographers do, I took about 20-30 shots of the same walkway. I was in all sorts of contortions- bending, squatting, and kneeling...praying that no one would walk on the beach until I could get the shot.

As my friend Tracy would say, "Et voila." Thank God for clouds.

It's Always Somethin'

2009-05-07T21:13:00.026-04:00

So there we were driving on Route 22 about ten minutes from our exit onto Highway 17. Tom and I were on our way to North Myrtle Beach for Spring SOS; the 51st for Tom and 30 something for me. Since we had been traveling about six hours, we were all "talked out" and getting a little anxious to get to the condo. Suddenly Tom pointed out the strange haze forming over the clouds. It seemed to get darker and darker and soon it became apparent that we were in the middle of a huge fire. I grabbed my camera, rolled down the window and began to shoot.

This series of images reminds me of the summer that my friend, Barbara, and I drove to California, stopping along the way to visit famous landmarks. One of them was Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park. We must have taken twenty or thirty pictures, thinking that the geyser couldn't get any higher. It was the same here. I kept clicking thinking that it couldn't get any worse, but it did.

Finally, we were through the smoke and minutes from the exit.

As most of you know, the fires continued for several days and many lost their homes.

Not to make light of a horrible situation, but it seemed to me that there were a few other SOS's that were plagued by one thing or another. Last fall, they were involved in dredging the sand, making it impossible to sit on the beach. (See blog dated September 19, 2008.)
Then a couple of SOS's ago this was going on the street outside of our condo. As luck would have it, we had the back bedroom, facing the street, so we were awakened every morning at 8:00 to this. After I made a trip to the city manager's office, I was told that in the future I would be glad that they were doing this cable work. But why during SOS?

It kinda makes me wonder what's in store for us in the fall.

Through it all, we really did have a good time. After the ash cleared, I was able to get on the beach and take some new golf shots and one afternoon, friends from Wilmington drove down for a quick visit. Those of you from Huntington remember Connie and Mike Tatum. It was great seeing them again. Aren't they just the cutest?

I think the last time we were together at the beach was the summer of '66. Remember that? We'll just keep that between us...now that y'all are grandparents and all.

Note To Self: NEW YORK CITY IS COLD IN APRIL

2009-04-21T21:25:00.015-04:00

I've been back in Atlanta for six days after my trip to New York and I've finally thawed out. I know you think I'm exaggerating, but the temperature didn't get over 50 degrees while we were there. But a little thing like freezing temperatures and hurricane force winds didn't stop us.

I met my sister, Janie, at the Atlanta airport with her friend, Shirley, who were changing planes to continue their trip to NYC. I joined them on the final leg of their journey. Shirley was going to visit her daughter and Janie and I were visiting my niece and Janie's daughter, Jennifer. We thought it was a perfect time to visit Jennifer because it was her spring break and she could spend the week guiding us to the right subway and pointing us in the right direction on the city streets. It was nice not having to have our AAA maps in our frozen hands at all times. We must have walked miles and I know we climbed hundreds of steps. Although it rained or misted most of the days, I was able to take a few shots on two of the days.

On Monday we met Shirley at the River Cafe located on the Brooklyn side of the East River. The restaurant is located near the Brooklyn Bridge and is steps away from an area called DUMBO (down under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass). After lunch (which I might add I couldn't recognize many entrees on the menu...I had chicken) we set out on an adventure. I think Janie and 'em were looking for Jacque somebody's chocolate shop and I was looking for THE SHOT. After finding the chocolate shop and getting great hot chocolate, we found Water Street where I took these shots.

The next day we met my oldest sister, Ann, in the city. We had lunch at a really nice restaurant behind the New York City Public Library, followed by a tour of the library. As we were walking, before the rain began, I managed to get this shot. This house is located directly across from the Port Authority. I haven't cropped or enhanced any of these shots, so please be patient.

It was wonderful seeing and visiting with Ann. We ended our visit with a glass or two of wine at the bar in the Waldorf-Astoria. After putting her on the bus to Hartford, we managed to crawl to the subway heading to Brooklyn.

The last day, Thursday, April 16th, the sun appeared! We packed and then headed to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. The cherry trees were in bloom and the tulips were everywhere. As we walked along the paths we saw turtles sunning themselves. Here's a few of them.

I don't usually take photographs of landscapes (except the beach), but this was too beautiful to ignore.

Here'a a shot of my sister and Jennifer. FYI, they were standing in the shade so I used my flash. Until I took my last photography class, I had never used a flash outside. Who knew?

Here is the final shot. I asked a young woman who had a SLR camera around her neck to take this picture, thinking that she knew how to use it. Not so fast. Not only did she not focus the shot, but the composition is not so good. Whatever.

Looking back, I think it's a good thing that she didn't focus. It's hard to see the enormous bags under my eyes and the extreme pain I was in from the endless walking and climbing. Now I know why you rarely see older people ride the subways. Come to think of it, there really aren't that many overweight people down there in the tunnels. That's something to ponder Jenny Craig.

I must end this post by thanking Jennifer for allowing us to hang out with her for six days. She was a expert tour guide who showed extreme patience with her aunt and mom. She even let me use her Mac to check FB every day, okay twice a day. I bet next year during spring break, Miss Jennifer will high tail it out of the city to parts unknown. Who could blame her?

He Said, She Said

2009-04-02T16:43:00.011-04:00

I got the inspiration for this blog from my husband, Tom's, blog. (http://www.tommyhamrick.blogspot.com/) He usually writes about the happenings in the world of shag, but since there were no major events last weekend, he decided to write about his family vacations to Windy Hill Beach every fourth of July. He explains that the reason for the same week every year in July was because his father worked in the cotton mills and they always shut down for the week of the fourth of July. Newberry, South Carolina, was where he spent most of his childhood and he talks about what a great town it was to grow up. I think he said, "I wouldn't trade growing up in Newberry for anywhere else in the world."

So then I started thinking. I grew up in Huntington, West Virgina and I think my town was a great place to grow up. We had sidewalks and lots of grass with clover for the bees...just enough for us to get stung at least three times each summer. We had bikes and skates and played hopscotch on the sidewalk in front of our house. The only establishment that I know of that closed during the week of July fourth was Jim's Steak and Spaghetti House on Fifth Avenue, so the week of the fourth was just like any other week, except for the fourth and that was always fun.

My family didn't go to the beach in the summer or any other time, for that matter. My father worked for the C&O Railroad so we could take our vacations anytime during the summer, and it wasn't to the beach. My parents weren't beach people. Daddy was of Scottish descent and mother was Irish. Needless to say our skin was very, very, white and daddy always talked about how the sun wasn't good for our skin, and that was in the 50's before SPF 75. For some reason, my father liked to take his vacation over Labor Day. Since my oldest sister lived and lives in Connecticut, we rode the train to Hartford via New York City, where we had to change trains. He arranged it so that we arrived at Grand Central Terminal in the morning, took a cab to Penn Station, checked our luggage in the lockers, and set off for an adventure. My mother usually took my middle sister, Janie, and they went to sites unknown; while daddy, on the other hand, was stuck with me. I remember one trip when daddy took me to Hayden's Planetarium. Because he had one vodka drink too many on the trip from Huntington to NYC, he fell asleep and snored during the program. I was so embarassed. I could write lots of stories about our adventures in New York, but I won't bore you. My point here is that we never vacationed at the beach. In fact,the first time I went to Myrtle Beach was the summer after my freshman year in college. That was the first of several summers that my friends and I worked there.

Although I never made it to the beach as a child like Tom did, we still had fun in Huntington over the fourth because we had great food like hot dogs and potato salad and fun stuff like sparklers. I thought that was the best ever. I can still see the lightning bugs blinking as the bright sparks from the sparklers shot into the black sky.

Below is a picture of me (age 5) in my first two piece.

Here I was dressed and ready for the beach, but I just didn't know where it was! Ignorance is bliss. Tom and I are lucky to have grown up in two towns that we both love. We had normal childhoods where we could run and play with our friends and we were safe. But I have to say, I wouldn't trade growing up in Huntington with any other place, and that includes, you know where!

Leading Lines

2009-03-26T11:44:00.008-04:00

Last weekend, Tom and I went to the beach. Tom went to party and I went to shoot. As soon as we arrived on Friday, I dropped him off at a restaurant to meet some friends, and I hit the road to begin my adventure. I love trying to get different shots of the beach. I mean, how many different shots can you get?

To add a little pressure to this adventure, my photography instructor assigned different types of composition for us to experiment with. Yes, I'm taking another class. Every time I take a photography class, I learn something new. The instructors focus on their expertise and that makes it interesting. Some are more nuts and bolts and some are more creative. This instructor is a combination of both. He brings a lot of humor into the instruction and makes it fun. Back to the assignment. I chose to work on leading lines. The concept is for the line to draw the eye into the scene. Here's the first shot.

I've taken this shot several times. There are millions of lines in this shot, so I wanted to get closer and get more of a side view. Well, when I did that, I looked over the side and look what I found.

Oops! Nevermind. Not wanting to disturb anyone and really wanting to stay alive, I quickly decided to change my location and move on down the beach. I tiptoed to the car and drove south towards Myrtle Beach, hoping to have time to get to Litchfield or Pawley's Island. In addition to looking for leading lines, I was also looking for beach letters. (See blog dated January 28 to see what I'm talking about.) As I was driving south on Ocean Boulevard, I spotted this hotel near Windy Hill. It was colorful and yes, it had leading lines. I also saw the reflection of the sky and clouds in the windows. It would have been great to get the ocean in the reflection, but I would have had to have a crane to swing on, or perhaps a high-rise and a very, very, expensive camera lens. So for now, I'm happy with the clouds.

Continuing down Ocean Boulevard, I approached an area where the Ocean Forest Hotel was located many years ago. After the hotel was demolished a walking path and a small park were built. There are two small beach huts on the same property and I guess during the season they sell drinks, snacks, etc. Attached to one of the huts, in the back facing the ocean, is a staircase with a sign posted. And, yes, it has leading lines. It's a joke. As far as I know there is no nude bathing in Myrtle Beach. At least not while you're sober.

I didn't make it to Litchfield on Friday, but I did go on Saturday. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and there were only a few people walking on the beach. Maybe because it was so darn cold!

In a few weeks, we'll be back at the beach. Hopefully, it will be warmer, there will be little or no breeze, no one will be walking on the beach, the sea oats will be green, and the new beach fences will have aged a little. I'm not asking for much.

Yoga

2009-03-12T17:44:00.019-04:00

I just got home after attending a yoga class. This was the first in a new session of ten. We just finished the last session last week, and I was hoping we would have at least a one week break. No such luck. I've taken yoga classes several times in the last few years, but I haven't really stuck to it like I have this year. It wasn't a New Year's resolution, it was an out of shape realization.

During this last session, I started remembering prior issues from earlier classes. In this post, I will call them "my do's and don'ts" of yoga. Things that one must know before embarking on this adventure. I guess the first "do or don't", depending on how you look at it, is this... arrive late. If you arrive early, your yoga guru will MAKE you go to the front. I attend this session with my friend, Barbara, whom I've known for many, many years. Barbara is a rule follower and a pleaser. She is also always on time. This has been a problem between us for many years. As a result of her time issue, she always arrives before I and gets our place ready for the torture...side by side in the front row. In previous classes, I managed to get a spot in the back; that's where I like it. Fortunately, there aren't many in our class, and certainly no guys, so it isn't that bad being in the front row.

Another "do" is listen. This can be tough for those of us who are visual learners. Something happens to me when I can't see the pose because I'm on the floor and she is calling out directions. Clasping hands under our knees or putting our arms between our knees to push them apart is hard for me to process. It kinda reminds me of that dreaded yearly visit to the gyno.

Closely related to listening is another "do"...know your right from your left. Seems simple enough. But when she starts giving directions of the next pose, you have got to be able to locate the body part she is telling you to use and put it where she tells you to. Processing is important here. Here's an example from today's class. We are on our mats, lying on our backs,

looking at the ceiling, and she tells us to pull our knees up to our chest.

Then she tells us to extend our left arm to the left, straighten our left leg, ground our heel, use our right hand to lower our right leg to the right, while using our right arm to create resistence. Here's another one. Lying on our back, bend our knees, keep our feet flat on the mat, take our right leg and cross it over the left knee then roll to the left keeping our shoulders on the mat, extending our arms to the sides. Then cross our legs the other way. Be sure and inhale as we bring our legs up and exhale as we roll to the side. Breathing is important in yoga. It's a definite "do."

Here's a "don't." Don't look at others in the class. Now it's kinda hard not to look when there are mirrors on two of the walls. But you must keep your eyes straight ahead, on the ceiling, or on the floor. Never look at another person in the class. Rude. Sometimes I sneak a peek, just to see if my leg is higher that the woman behind me. So that's about it. When the clock strikes 3:45, it's time to roll up our mats,

fold our blankets,

place the blocks on the shelf,

and get a Coke.

Now that's a "do."

Television Has Gone To The Dogs

2009-03-05T10:50:00.011-05:00

Last night when I should have been working on my web class I decided to take a break. The stress is taking a toll because I still have to take the final, complete my web page and actually shoot it out to never, neverland, aka the World Wide Web. All of this must be done in one week, but I'm livin' on the wild side, daring time to run out. So in the mist of all of this panic, I plopped myself on the couch to watch a little television.

While Tom was upstairs working on his music, I grabbed the remote and begin to work it. So many choices, so little time. I didn't want to watch Idol...too soon. I like to wait until the final twelve are selected. Too much drama...watching friends and family members standing on the balcony overlooking the stage. Please. Who's idea was that? They should be in the audience with the general public. Then came CNN with that woman who used to be on the Today show on the weekends. Campbell, that's her name. Too slanted. Too much of a big fake smile. Then there was FOX. I really don't like O'Reilly. He's such a chauvinist. Talk about slanted! After his show came Hannity. Please! Where do these people get their confidence? So I kept flipping.

Then came Dog. What a man. Who wouldn't want to watch him...Dog, the Bounty Hunter! What a family man. There is Beth, his lovely wife who has fingernails so long they could be considered legal weapons, his two sons, Duane Jr. and Leland, and a nephew, Tim, who does most of the legwork. Baby Lyssa, the daughter, is in a few of the shows. Then there is Bobby, the bail bondsman, who loaned those criminals the money to get out of jail. Beth is the glue in the family. Bless her heart, she needs a little guidance in the wardrobe department as does Dog, but it all seems to work. When I first saw Dog, I was somewhat surprised by his appearance. His hair looks something like the Wrestler's...long stringy blond. To make matters worse, sometimes he has jewelry braided into his locks. Can you just imagine how much noise that would make when he tries to sneek up on a fugitive? Hasn't he ever watched Venus play tennis for goodness sakes?

As luck would have it, the station was running a mini-marathon. I was lucky enough to see three episodes. The show starts in the morning before going on the hunt. Dog and family stand in a circle, hold hands, and have a word of prayer. Then they jump into two huge SUV's, get on their cells and get busy. After a lot of jumping in and out of the vehicles, knocking on doors, and talking with liars, they usually nab the jail bait. After the cuffs, it's in the car for a short therapy session. Beth is the best. She tries to convince them that they should be happy and thank them that they're on the way to the big house. She tells them this is their chance to start over. Hummm. I can think of better places to start over. Dog, on the other hand, likes to tell the riffraff that he has been in their place. He feels their pain. The compassion oozes. They seem to believe him. They set a date to do lunch when they are released. Not really. The reprobates are dropped of at the pokey and escorted in by one of the sons. All in a day's work.

It's a good thing that Dog isn't on every night. I have got to finish this class. For those of you who are snickering about Dog, I ask you, "Would you rather watch a blond hunk who wears sleeveless leather shirts with Mr. T jewelry, packing a pistol, or a small handsome batchelor who breaks hearts with his constant vaciliation. I like a man who knows what he wants.

Good Grief!

2009-03-01T13:39:00.006-05:00

It's March 1st and look at what's happening in Atlanta. The snow has been non-stop for two hours. Enjoy the images. Let's just hope this wet stuff doesn't stay on the powerlines or it'll be lights out for a day or two.

Ten Down, Two To Go

2009-02-24T19:29:00.010-05:00

For the past five weeks, I have been taking a class on line called, "Creating Web Pages I." This seems to insinuate that there is a "Creating Web Pages II." Whether I dare to take the advanced class depends upon whether or not I pass this one. There are two more lessons to go. They come to me from never, never land. I know the name of the teacher, but his whereabouts are unknown...an undisclosed location.

I won't bore you with the vast knowledge that I have absorbed. All the tabs, titles, jpeg, gif, html stuff, quotation marks and spaces have driven me to distraction. In order to maintain some sort of sanity, I go to my fun place...photoshop. I could spend hours there, but there are things I must do instead. I need a maid and a cook. I need them now.

Here are two images that I played with today. The first one is sooooo boring. You can tell I didn't do any enhancements. I guess I could "pop" the color and deal with the shadows, but I'll save that for later.

Next I changed the image to black and white and did a little manipulation, or two...or three.

All of this playing around was a pleasant break from web world. Tomorrow, another lesson will appear and the stress will return. It won't last long. Only one more week and then the final. Help me Rhonda!

Goodbye, Annette

2009-02-18T16:23:00.007-05:00

Today was a sad, sad day. One of our co-workers, Annette Beldon, passed away on February 14th and her funeral was earlier today. The service was beautiful. Her parents, who live in Puerto Rico, read scripture and both her brother and sister gave testimonials. They presented a video celebrating her life that her brother produced. It was a masterpiece that produced tears and smiles.

It was through the testimonials and the video that I learned a lot about Annette that I didn't know. Even though we had worked together on numerous occasions, I didn't really get to know her like I wish I had. Annette was a quiet person with a sweet spirit and a beautiful smile. She had conquered breast cancer years ago, but it returned in the past year. She was a fighter and didn't let the disease stop her. She continued to work through her latest treatments, and I think she continued to play on her tennis team in the early part of last year.

After the funeral, as I was on my way to an appointment, I passed this area. Although it was a dreary, sad day, I stopped and took a few pictures.

In a month or so, this river will be full of people rafting and children playing on the banks. The trees will be in bloom and the sun will be shining. I know I'll think of Annette every time I pass by. One thing I learned from losing Annette is this...We all should stop and get to know our friends just a little bit better. Every one has a story and maybe we should do a lot more listening and a little less talking. At least I should. I will miss Annette and her kind, gentle soul.

Somebody Just Can't Wait

2009-02-16T16:17:00.005-05:00

It's the middle of February and look what's popping out of the ground. It's too soon for this. Maybe it's because we had some really warm days last week, or maybe it's global warming.

I though as long as they're out, I might as well make the most of it and take a few shots. I used both cameras. This one is the fastest and easiest. Later this week I'll post the ones from my rebel.

Then I started playing around and came up with this one.

Gotta love photoshop!

Once Upon A Time

2009-02-10T11:37:00.013-05:00

I work part-time, or used to, in a great store that carries everything you want and very little of what you need, like: furniture, gifts, flowers, candles, soap, jewelry, etc. It's a wonderful store to buy a gift for whomever...hostess, birthday, teacher, baby ...you get the idea. Well, bad times have finally hit east Cobb. The hatchet has come down on those of us who are part-timers. Even the full-timers have taken a hit. Most of us have worked together for several years and we've become good friends. Worried that our friendships might just fly away, we schedule dinners to keep us together and in-touch with each other's lives.

Sunday evening was our first dinner after the HATCHET. One of the girls bought a poem she had written and I thought it would be fun to put it in this post. So here it is.

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful place.

It was the kind of place that most all who visited got caught up in the pace!

It had so many wonderful things to see, like candles and clothes,

and little rings for your toes!

Things to sit on and light your space,

nearly everything to suit your taste!

On most days, things were okay...but on other days,

the bad spirits got in the way.

You see, there were secrets near the back that spread like wildfire,

and in recent times, it seemed quite dire!

Without the beautiful and talented princesses, nothing could be found,

but, listen carefully...whispers of, "Oh stop Tom, put that box down!"

Many years showed promise. Hopes and dreams got high, and then...

the mean and ugly queen poked them in the eye!

But even when the end was near,

the princesses held each other dear!

As you can tell from this poem, we are a great support for each other. I told them at our Christmas dinner how much their encouragement meant to me when I would bring in a picture that I had just taken or a card that I made. Just hearing their "oohs" and "aahs" gave me the motivation to do more.

So now we wait for spring. Soon there will be parties (hostess gifts), Mother's Day (jewelry), Teacher Appreciation (candles and soap...we don't sell wine), weddings (dinnerware and silver), Easter (trinkets for the baskets) and on and on. Before you know it, we will be back behind the counter ringing up hundred dollar sales, making boxes and pouchets, giving "expert" advise, and stuffing our mouths with untold amounts of junk food. It's just around the corner... I'm sure of it.

Just Who Is James Hunter?

2009-02-03T10:58:00.015-05:00

This is what I asked Tommy when he told me that Jason and Holly were coming to Atlanta, and wanted us to meet them and others at this guy's concert. (This was a birthday surprise for Holly.) Now I know that the shagettes and shaggers are just bent over laughing, but remember I live with Tommy and he doesn't play white music. When he hears me play a Steve Tyrell or a Rod Stewart CD, he leaves the room and on some occasions, leaves the house!

So last night we went. He was appearing at a nasty joint called Smith's Olde Bar. This is a fire trap ready to explode. My apologies to the owners, but the Atlanta Fire Department really needs to make a visit. The show was upstairs (wooden) which added to my fears. At one point, Steve, who came with this wife, Donna, from Raleigh, pointed out the AC units over our heads with unknown inches of filth on the filters. Good thing it wasn't warm weather or those units would be blowin' asbestos and vermin all over the room. It reminded me of those old college bars (the UL at Marshall) where you couldn't distinguish if the odor you were smelling was beer, cigarettes, fried food... I could go on, you know. It had that scent that we have all experienced. I think there was a little scent of dope in the air as we entered the room. Kind of a unique welcome, don't you think? But this wasn't what I was going to write about. Enough background, I think you get the point. Besides Butch said many times how he liked the place. Poor thing.

We arrived early, around 6 p.m. James was going to come on around 10, so we had lots of time to get ready. There were people from North Carolina and South Carolina, and, of course, many locals. Four guys came who rented an RV for the trip from Charlotte. I swear if I didn't know better, one of them was Milton N.'s son. We all know that Milton has never claimed to have a child, but this kid makes you think. They were sloshed, so I don't know if that vehicle is still parked at the curb, or if they made it back to Charlotte. The names that come to mind who were in attendance are: Jason, Holly, Mary, Clyde, Butch, Steve, Donna, George, Jeff, Dana, Scott (Milton's child), Tommy and myself. There were others from the world of shag, but I didn't get their names.

At eight o'clock, the red light came on and we went upstairs. Thirty minutes later, a small band entertained (?) us for an hour and then around ten, James and his band came on. I really like his music. Tommy thinks all of the songs sound the same. James is a friendly, outgoing guy. It's kind of hard to understand what he's saying when he speaks to the audience because he has such a heavy British accent, but when he sings the accent disappears and in some songs he sounds like the old black artists from back in the day. The audience seemed to know all of his songs and James was impressed that so many sang along with him. The band was great, especially the two guys who played saxophones.

If you too, don't know who James Hunter is and would like to hear a bit, go to: http://eventful.com/performers/James Hunter, and then go to the videos. I liked the one titled, "Walk Away."

Here's something that you need to know. James can be bought. Steve wrote a song title on a ten dollar bill and Butch handed it to him. Three songs later, he was performing Steve's requested song. Now that I think about it, maybe Tommy would take requests if the pavilion people would write their requested song on a twenty dollar bill. That's the ticket! Hope you had a Happy Birthday, Holly! It was fun.

Company's Coming!

2009-01-31T21:19:00.009-05:00

Since I found out that Tom's friend, Butch, is coming to visit for a day or two, I've been trying to clean the downstairs bedroom. The mess started when we began the kitchen project in October. Everything in the cabinets had to be removed and put somewhere. In the beginning, dishes, glasses, etc. were in the dining room, living room, bathroom, and the downstairs bedroom. As the holidays approached, the bedroom quickly became the dumping ground for those treasured items that I had to think about what to do with them. I really did try my best to put the stuff that I took out of the old cabinets back into the new cabinets. But there was still a lot of purging and decision-making to take place. When it comes to throwing things out, or even giving them away, I avoid it. I always think I'm going to need that Tupperware bowl that has no lid and is discolored from God knows what.

So when I found out that Butch was coming, I had to get busy. This morning I woke up, ate a donut, drank a coke and jumped right in. As I was dusting, I started rearranging. I took everything off the shelf over the bed, dusted it, and was just about to put a few things back on it when I spotted the green apples that I had used in a bowl last summer. Not real, the Target kind. As I was arranging them Tom came in and gave me the idea to take a picture of it. I needed the break, so I grabbed the camera and started shooting. Here is the first one.

I lightened this one. I think I like it darker.

Then I cropped this one. I could use it as a banner for my blog or maybe some cards.

On the blog one day, Etsy the next. I love to clean.

Beach Letters

2009-01-28T20:14:00.007-05:00

I've been working on a new project for the next art show. I "borrowed" the idea from a company that does the same thing except they use architecture for letters and the images are in black and white. Mine will be in color and I will use images from the beach for my letters. That's the challenge. Here's an example of what I'm talking about. This was the first one. Obvious. Stay with me.

After the idea hit, I began looking through a zillion folders filled with images I have taken over the past ten years or so. It's kinda like, "where's Waldo?" except it's "where's the B?" I have looked at palm trees, rocks, piers, signs, benches, umbrellas, cottages, and even sand.

This one popped out of nowhere. It's not as obvious, but you can still figure it out.

Just in case you didn't get it, it's an i.

The last one for this post was cropped from an image I took at the gulf. It's also obvious. These were the easy ones.

This is what they will look like after they are matted and framed.

Again, for those of you who are beach letter challenged, it's a t, o, m. Get it?

So to sum this up, I have found the following letters: t,o,m,h,i,and p. It's apparent that I need your help. The next time you go to the beach, preferably Myrtle Beach, please find the following letters: a,b,c,d...Take a picture and email it to me. I'll give you ten percent of my sales. Trust me.

Happy Birthday, Mary!

2009-01-22T11:42:00.013-05:00

Dear Mary,

Although you NEVER read my blog, I thought I would post one just for you anyway! I need to let it go even though I spend HOURS writing these for the pleasure of my friends and family. But enough about me, it's your day. So here goes.

Remember this shot? I know that I made this card for you several years ago, but I think it's time that I share it with everyone...even your children.

I though you might enjoy this image of the three of us in my backyard getting a "base" tan before going to the beach to work for the summer. Gotta love that iodine and baby oil.
Where was Barbara? Probably studying.

Here's the picture compliments of Connie Tatum of all of us in front of the Myrtle Beach Pavilion. For the benefit of others who are reading this, you are on the top right.

Finally, the New York trip in May. Can't beat the bargains on Canal Street.

Then there was the Red Bus tour.

And finally, THE group shot. I know, I know it's blurry, but it kinda looks like that filter they used in those Doris Day movies and television shows. Next time, I'll use the auto focus.

Hope you enjoyed the blog. Now will you please read it more than once a year? Have a wonderful birthday!

love,

Nancy

Inauguration Day

2009-01-20T14:22:00.016-05:00

Some of you may not know this, but I went to the inauguration. I've got photgraphs to prove it. Getting that press pass last month really helped me gain access to the White House and the podium at the Capitol. President Obama and former President Bush moved fast so many of my images are blurred. Please be patient.

It started earlier today at the White House. They wouldn't allow me to take shots inside the White House, so I had to wait until they exited.

Then they entered the limos. I was standing next to the car but I couldn't get a shot inside the vehicle.I must have waited for an hour to get this shot.

The next two shots were kind of tricky. I have a friend who was willing to share her motorcyle, so I hopped on and off we went to Pennsylvania Avenue.

I had to climb a tree for this one.

Here President Elect Obama is entering the Capitol. I would have gotten a better shot if he had posed just once for me.

As you know, there were many dignitaries who attended the swearing in ceremony. Here's a good shot. Can't you just feel the love?

Taking the oath.

In prayer.

Singing.

Now I need to come clean.

I took these shots from my television. Many of the images were borrowed from ABC. I also switched to several stations.

I couldn't understand what these people were saying, even after three years of spanish!

I have lots more images, but I don't want to bore you. Also, I have probably broken many laws regarding plagiarism. I'll finish with one final shot...kind of a double exposure.

Good luck, President Obama!

ETSY

2009-01-15T21:43:00.009-05:00

Ready for business! I just finished the grueling task of setting up a shop at Etsy. This is an on-line shop for finding unique hand-crafted items. There are zillions of shops that make and sell absolutely anything you can think of.

The hardest part in starting this project was finding and cropping a banner to fit their speculations. When you see my banner you'll see that it's very thin. That can be a problem if you want to show the beach, the ocean, and the sky. No can do. I did the best I could. Hope you like it.

Then I had to make a decision on what to sell. Janie, my sister, has pounded in my head that I should sell notecards with personal images on them. She says I don't listen to her, but how many blogs have I mentioned that SHE said this or that? Lots. Anyway, I took her brillant suggestion and posted an example card that I have shown in two of my blogs. I love that image. Initially I listed the card as a Vintage Notecard. So when anyone goes to my shop they will see the card. The problem is that if they don't spend the time to read the description, they won't get it! I don't want them to buy the card that is listed, I want them to email me their photograph to be printed on the cards. This was a quandaryment (my word). After much thought and deliberation I decided to put a Your in front of Vintage Notecards. Maybe that will entice shoppers to read the description. We'll see. (Etsy told me that the change might not be up for 24 hours.)

Below is the image I took right after I listed the notecard. It's not very clear, but you get the idea. This page is called "nmccorklephotography's shop."

After a shopper enters my shop, hopefully, he/she will click on the item. It this case, it's the notecard. Then it goes to another page with a larger image and the description.

My plan is to put lots of matted 8X10's and several framed images in my shop. They will remain there for four months. If you want to see my shop, and I hope you will, please go to http://nmccorklephotography.etsy.com/. I would love to read your comments. Any help is appreciated.

It's Not Black and White, It's Fog!

2009-01-07T17:50:00.012-05:00

The fog was really thick the other day when I took these pictures. In the first one you can sort of see a red haze in the lower left-hand corner. Bet you're wondering what's up with that. Unless you live in my neighborhood you would never guess. It's a Walgreen's! Yep, right in our backyard. We are some kind of lucky- just a hop, skip, and a jump to the Advil! Fortunately, it's not open 24 hours.
I played with this one a little...worked on the shadows and highlights.

This was taken from the front yard. It looks like we live in the mountains, but it's the fog playing tricks and maybe a little tweaking with the composition.

I did saturate the color on the next one. I wanted to see if I could get the green in the pine trees to appear. It did. Finally.

The lesson learned here is this: on foggy days you can forget about color. You can get great black and white shots without desaturating. Good to know.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-05T21:05:00.003-05:00

What more can I say?

Merry Christmas...a day late

2008-12-26T15:06:00.006-05:00

This shot was taken last year. I like how the light shines on the wall and the ribbon looks so creamy. But my admiration for this shot is not why I'm including it in today's post. I'm including it because I haven't taken a Christmas shot this year. I'm what one would call, "a day late and a dollar short." But let me explain.

Last year, 2007, Thanksgiving was on November 22nd. This year Thanksgiving was on the 27th. We had four weekends between Thanksgiving and Christmas this year and five weekends last year. Really. I just checked it. In the scheme of things, not having that extra weekend meant a lot.

There were other extenuating circumstances that caused my lateness. The first major interruption was kitchen cabinets. This project actually began on Halloween; that's when the demolition began. I had to cram everything that was in the cabinets all over the house. They finished the Monday before Thanksgiving. You can imagine the chaos. Usually I try to start decorating after Thanksgiving, but this year I had to find the electric knife so Tom could carve the turkey, and the plates, and the silverware, and on and on. It reminded me of the time that my stepson had a party (after many warnings from us not to try it) when Tom and I went out of town. In the spring when the bushes were trimmed, all sorts of things surfaced. We even found Pepperidge Farm fish crackers in places you couldn't imagine. But that's another blog.

The other project that interfered with Christmas was the front stairs. To be perfectly honest, this started about two years ago when Tom pulled up the carpet from the stairs at my request. Then it was my turn. I pulled out a million staples and then took a year to rest. I like to pace myself. In early October I began again with the spackle, sanding, caulking, priming (two coats) and two coats of beautiful Benjamin Moore white satin paint. When the cabinet work began, I had to stop the painting (the tread needs to be painted black) to oversee the kitchen project. Yep, I was right there. I have pictures.

So to make a long story short, I'm still behind. I have some friends coming over for lunch on Monday, the 29th and I'm looking for the elves to go on the mantle. But before I put up the elves, if I ever find them, I'll have to stash the pumpkins that have been holding court on the mantle since October. Oh, and while I'm at it, I'll just throw away the candy that is still in the bowl next to the front door from Halloween.

I'm doing my best to catch up. Before you know it Valentine's Day will be here and those elves will still be on the mantle. Maybe I'll put some cute little hearts in their arms.

It's Penny's Day

2008-12-22T20:50:00.010-05:00

Penny and I have been friends for over fifty years. Boy, that sure does sound like a long time; I guess because it is. We spent our childhood about two blocks from each other. She lived on Rural Avenue and I lived on Hall Avenue. We spent summers playing hide and seek and walking barefoot. Then before going into the sixth grade, I moved and went to a different elementary and junior high. We stayed friends, though, thanks to bicycles. In high school we reconnected. This time the summers were spent going to the pool and again, walking barefoot. Then came college and during the summers working at the beach. She got to spend entire summers at the beach, while I on the other hand could only spend half summers there. Summer school always called my name.

This is a picture of Penny standing in the yard of our apartment from the first summer at the beach, 1966. What a bathing beauty. Judging from the curlers, she must have been getting ready for work. We used to spend the mornings on the beach and return to the apartment in time to get ready for work by three.

Here's a picture of Penny, Mary and I working on our tan before going back to the beach for the second summer (1967). It looks like Penny is the smart one, NOT standing on her head. Mary and I, on the other hand are just showing off. Early yoga.
Always ready to pose, here we are again. That must be Penny's John Romaine purse on the blanket. We were in our second year of college. Does anyone see a book? I guess the sun was more important.
The Kit Kat was where we sunbathed during one of the summers. Again, here are the three of us: Penny with the sunglasses, Mary and I squinting. As usual my hair is hanging on my body. Why? I bet it was in the 90's. I must have been brain-dead. Check out the coke bottles. I wonder if we had already eaten our daily allotment of two or three Krispy Kreme Donuts. I think this was the summer that our buddy, Fred, was the lifeguard in front of the Kit Kat. Maybe he was the one taking this picture, that is, if he wasn't saving lives in the riptide, or those 20 foot waves!
After hanging out at the beach for four summers, it was time to get real jobs, so we all moved to Atlanta. We lived the single life...shopping, dating, and shopping and dating. Penny was the first of the four of us (Barbara, Mary, Penny, and I) to get married. She was also the first to have children...Erin and Ryan. Two great, smart, and good-looking kids.

I know how rare it is to maintain friendships through the years, but we have done it. We have always been there for each other and we always will. Thank God we have good health and a sense of humor. From Simms Elementary to Huntington High School to Marshall University to Myrtle Beach, and finally, to Atlanta, Penny and I have been there, done that... together.

So, Happy Birthday, Penny Gail. Call me.

Debbie's Christmas Card

2008-12-20T20:50:00.014-05:00

In early December I met my friend, Debbie, her husband, Dick, and their two cute,little dogs, for a Christmas photo shoot at Kennesaw Mountain. As a rule, I really don't like to take pictures of anything or anyone that breathes. When one breathes, one moves, and that makes it difficult to get a clear shot. Now I know that I could increase the shutter speed, but in this case, that would necessitate taking my frozen hands out of my gloves to move the button on my camera. Here is an example of what I'm talking about. Dick is trying his best to get control of the white one. Debbie told me a thousand times what her name was, but my brain was concentrating on getting THE SHOT.

The white one is cute and playful, while the brown one is behaving. But wait, it doesn't stop there.

Dick and white one continue to play. I'm thinking, "We've got work to do. This will have to stop."

And it does, for minute or two. Everybody seems to be calming down.

Oh, no, here we go again, only this time it's the brown one.

Someone has got to get control of this situation. I'm thinking, "Hey! I'm over here! Look in the camera."

Now we're ready, but somebody moved. The camera? This one would have been perfect. My fault.

Debbie, you have got to get control of yourself!

FINALLY! Got the shot! It just needed a little tweaking.

I just added a little vignette and it's a Christmas card !

Here's what I learned: 1. If I'm taking shots of animals, take treats. 2. Learn the names of all involved so when I need their attention I can use their names, and not just make weird noises.That goes for the dogs, too! 3.Don't take outside shots in less than 50 degrees. And finally... 4. Use a remote. That would enable me to get closer to the subjects without moving the camera. Maybe I'll get one for Christmas. Are you reading this, Tom?

Thanks, Debbie and Dick. I had fun and learned a lot. Next year? Maybe I'll have my remote.

Everyone Needs A Thank You

2008-12-19T18:40:00.003-05:00

I must admit that this title was not my idea. My sister, Janie, the one who went with me to Art in the Park, thought of it. As she was watching people enter my tent and going straight for the cards, she told me that we should move the cards to the front of the tent where prospective buyers would have to trip over them. Anything to make a sale! She also added that I needed to make a cutsy sign giving people ideas as to why they should buy the notecards. That night in the hotel, I made the sign and it worked! Will wonders ever cease. Janie should have been in merchandising or maybe even a think tank. She does that a lot, think, not merchandise.

As friends see my cards, some of them ask me to do a set for them. I absolutely love to do them, especially when they give me an old picture that I can enhance with my magic wand. Some call it Photoshop. The card pictured below is one of my friend Debbie and her friend on a lake in Michigan. I used a sepia tone with fancy edges. It makes it look even older than it is.

I used this shot in an earlier post and then made it into a card. This was a shot of our neighborhood gang. It was probably taken in the early 50's. What a motley crew we were.

I've sold several sets of personalized golf shots for Christmas gifts recently. I'll show them in my next post.

Stay tuned.

Happy Birthday, Nancy Faye

2008-12-11T08:28:00.006-05:00

Here she is. Ms. Nancy Faye T... great friend (brought me food in the middle of the night, kept me in that t.v. show, and so much more), excellent teacher (was 11 Alive teacher of the week, or was it year?), comedian (one of the funniest people on earth), athlete (played highschool basketball and, I think can beat my husband in golf), pretty near genius (understands all of that science stuff), world traveller (went into that jungle in South America with a team of science teachers), great cook (was featured in one of Tyler Florence's shows) and most importantly, a cancer survivor for ten years, with MS!

I took this shot two years ago at Christmas. I have no idea of what we were talking about, but she obviously had a strong opinion. Wonder what it was?

Things must have calmed down, or the wine kicked in.

Have a great day, Nancy. Did I forget to say that you are proudly a THIRD GENERATION Atlantian? For heaven's sake, let's don't forget that. (You know, native Atlantians can be sooooo snobby...I'm just sayin'.)

The Party Line

2008-11-18T20:37:00.014-05:00

I'm taking a class offered on-line through jessicasprague.com, called Stories in Hand. In a nutshell, it's a system that includes tools, guides, and a way to organize the stories that we want to tell. In the class we were presented with several downloads that include "sparks," or questions about your past. The intention is to "spark your memory," and make you think back, waaaaayyyyyy back.
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One of our first writing assignments was to choose a topic from the "roots" section... there must have been over a hundred "sparks." We could write in a journal, make a scrapbook page, or blog. Of course, I chose the latter. In one of my conversations with my sister, Janie, I told her about the "spark" that I was thinking about; it was, "what technology do you remember your family having?" She shared a conversation that she had several months ago with Jennifer, my niece, her daughter, about a party line. Jennifer (age 27) had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, and I bet most folks age 50 and younger are right there in the same boat. For those of you who are clueless, let me explain.
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I can remember in the 50's when I was in elementary school, we had a party line. That meant that several families shared the same line. Each family had their own ring so they would know when to answer an incoming call. Back in the day, we didn't stay on the line forever like we do now. Okay maybe my mother did when she talked to Mrs. Lewis, Jimmy's mother, about our fifth grade social studies homework. It took them several minutes to figure out what neither Jimmy nor I could explain.
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There is nothing good that I can say about having a party line. It never failed that when I wanted to make a call, some unknown woman (always a woman) would be talking. The only way we could get others off of the line was to torment them. Our parents didn't behave like that, but we (kids) did. Here's an important thing: we never, absolutely never told our names. It was all secretative. There were several methods of tormentation (is that a word?). I was an expert at two of them. First, was the heavy breathing. It let them know that someone was waiting to use the phone and second, was the constant clicking. That worked the best because it drove them crazy. I picked up the phone every thirty seconds until they gave up and got off the phone. I'm sure I had something important to say to someone.
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The strange thing is that I don't remember when the party line was dropped and we had our own private line. You would think that would be of utmost importance because I was approaching puberty and talking on the phone was an integral part of that period of my life.
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I finally found a picture of an old telephone, but I remember ours as having a smaller handle and body. I can still remember part of our phone number. Something like JA-23565. Our telephone, we only had one, was located in our hall. But it wasn't really a hall, it was more like a room with a hall leading off in the back to the dining room. There was a Tiffany lamp placed next to the phone on a table. I can still see my mother sitting and crying there in the hall as someone on the other end had just told her that her brother (Leland Davis a newspaper reporter from Cincinnati) had died. I didn't realize the impact that had on me until now.
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This picture will give you some idea of what they looked like.

Although most of us have several telephones in our homes today, we also have cell phones, blackberries, Iphones, etc. We can talk to anyone at anytime. Good grief, now we can actually see who we're talking to in real time. Below is an image of my niece courtesy of Skype. We just started using it last month and it is unreal! I know it's been around for sometime now, but I'm just getting into it.

Get this. You can even do a conference call on Skype. The only drawback is that you can't see everyone. I'm sure someone, somewhere is working on that.

From party lines to private lines to skype, can it get any better?

Employees of the Months

2008-11-16T21:20:00.020-05:00

Every now and then when something out of the ordinary occurs at Casabella, I make an Employee of the Month Award. Coming from the world of education, we always gave a Teacher of the Month Award and a Parapro of the Month Award. These were things we did to recognize those who did something special and deserved the attention. The staff voted each month.

But let me back up. A few years after I left education, I began working part-time at a store called Casabella. One day when I wasn't scheduled to work, the manager (the other Nancy) called and asked if I could come in to work. Noticing my hesitancy and my lack of enthusiasm, she said, "You know, if you come in today, you will be Employee of the Month." This was a joke. Until that minute an employee recognition program had never existed. To make a long story short, I agreed to go in that day, but before I did I made myself an award. It was a hoot! Not only did I give myself the award, I made myself Vice President of Employee Recognition. For then on, every couple of months, I present these awards to those I feel worthy. There isn't a deadline, there aren't any rules, and there isn't any voting, I just do it and get away with it.

So after hearing from several of the girls about what happened a week or so ago, I though it was time to reinstitute the recognition program. Here is the latest award.

Casabella’s
Employees of the Months Award
is proudly presented to
Julie and Penny
for sacrificing life and limb by stopping cold and callous criminals dead in their tracks, and for leading to the arrest of know felons (who have on several attempts tried to pass their bad checks), by commandeering these bad people by withholding their drivers license until the authorities arrived. So smart.

These strong and courageous women need to be commended by all of us at Casabella for saving the store over $1000 (this includes the previous attempts) and ridding the community of these low-life reprobates.
Pictured above, Julie (aka Starsky) is holding a copy of the fake drivers’ licenses and the fraudulent check. Penny (aka Hutch) is holding the receipt showing over $600. of merchandise that the thieves tried to purchase. By their quick thinking and talking in code, they were able to
bring this sham to a screeching halt.
Thanks ladies. All of us at Casabella appreciate your brains, your bravery and your guts. You make us proud. There’ll be a little something extra in your next check.

At work yesterday, I asked one of the girls how she knew that these were the infamous criminals. She replied, "How many people do you know who would buy over six hundred dollars worth of childrens' merchandise, but wouldn't spend money to fix their teeth?" Deep. Just remember, crime doesn't pay.

Nancy,

Vice-President of Employee Recognition

Art In The Park, October 08

2008-11-13T18:03:00.011-05:00

For those of you who have not been fortunate enough to actually attend the Art in the Park in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, I thought you would like to see my set up. The blue and white canvas is a "get them in the tent" trick. Since I don't have dancing bears or male strippers, I have to work with what I have. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Last year I sold my red and white stripped canvas similar to the blue and white one. I really liked it and it was hard to part with, but the money meant more. I don't mean to sound cold, but it's all about exposure and profit. If I want to make this a profitable hobby, I need to part with the works that I really like. Yes, there are a few that I've taken that I don't like, but my friends do, so I take them with me, hoping that someone will buy them.
The golf shots were my sister,Janie's idea. She accompanied me last October and noticed that there were a lot of golfers at the show. I really didn't see them, but I trusted her and last winter and spring I started taking millions of shots with different old clubs. Tom and I even went to a local golf course early on a Sunday morning where I spent an hour or so on all fours taking shots of golf tees. Most of these shots have been made into note cards. Very cute if I do say so myself.

In the picture below you can see the general design of the tent. I thought the colored panels would add a little "ump" to my tent. Every time I go, I have a different design. In the bottom left you can see the large image of the Brooklyn Bridge that I took Labor Day. (See post dated September 10)

I like to write about visitors to my tent. For this post, I thought I would write about three different groups of people who visited and actually BOUGHT matted prints. They all had one thing in common, they were all from West Virginia. I just love people from West Virginia, mainly because that's where I was born and raised. So here goes.

Early Saturday morning as I was unpacking my wares, before the show opened, (okay I lie, I was late), a couple walked right by my tent with absolutely no intention of stopping. Lucky for them I saw the WVU logo on the man's baseball cap and said "Go Herd." Most of the time that totally pisses off WVU fans. That got his attention. One thing led to another and I must have held them hostage for at least thirty minutes. We talked about Marshall and WVU. We talked about coal and they told me that Haliburton was drilling in the mountains. I didn't know there was oil in West Virginia, but apparently there is. Scott and Judy H were from Martinsburg, a fair distance from Huntington, where I'm from. Eventually, they broke down and bought a print. They didn't have the heart to leave without buying something. I just love people from West Virginia.

If you don't take someone with you to give you a break, you just have to leave your tent unattended and just take your chances that a bunch of thugs won't steal your cute little notecards with the plaid ribbons. I really wanted to visit my friend Liz's tent. She lives near Litchfield, south of Myrtle Beach and she always has great shots. Fortunately, her tent wasn't far from mine so I could see if anyone was going into my tent, so I moseyed over for a quick visit. This was Sunday afternoon, and the crowds were thinning out, but I still kept one eye in the direction of my tent. As I glanced in the direction of my tent, I saw a group of women walking towards it, so I scampered back without looking desperate. One of the women had a, you guessed it, Marshall University blouse. We started the, "where are you from," and "who do you know", and discovered that we attended the same high school at the same time. She is two years younger. Her brother was in my class, but I remember that he was in the smart group (Harvard bound), so I didn't have any classes with him. She and her friend moved to the beach a year or so earlier. Her friend teaches at Coastal Carolina and she plays golf. They bought three, yes three, of my matted prints. Like I said before, I just love people from West Virginia...especially golfers.

Next came Maggie. At first I didn't know she was Maggie. She was a hoot. Her skin still had a deep, deep tan and her hair was short and greyish blond. She had that old lifeguard look... very outdoorsey. During our conversation I discovered that she was originally from Huntington, but has been living in Myrtle Beach for a number of years. She told me that when she was young, her family vacationed at Myrtle Beach and she loved it. She told me that her mother worked for Butler Furniture in Huntington and I told her that my aunt used to do Mrs. Butler's hair. Small world. As she talked I learned that she was a former teacher and had spent some time after graduating from Marshall teaching in Annapolis. When she introduced herself as Maggie S., I thought to myself, "this is the girl who my sister, Janie, knew when she taught in Annapolis." This was too weird. Then I blundly asked her, "Are you Maggie S who dated a midshipman from the Naval Academy who was killed in a submarine accident in the sixties?" She said, "Yes, how did you know?" I told her about me overhearing a conversation between Janie and my mother forty-five years ago. I remember thinking at the time how awful it would be to die like that. We kept talking and talking as she looked at my prints. I called Janie to tell her who was in my tent and she talked with Maggie. It seems that they would ride home at holidays together in Maggie's car. Those were long trips from Annapolis to Huntington. Before she left that afternoon, she bought a print, only to return the next day to buy another one! If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, I just love people from West Virginia.

When I returned to Atlanta after the show, I googled the submarine accident and included it in this post. Sad, but interesting reading.

DEPARTMENT OF THE NAVY -- NAVAL HISTORICAL CENTER805 KIDDER BREESE SE -- WASHINGTON NAVY YARDWASHINGTON DC 20374-5060
History of USS Thresher (SSN-593)
Related Resources:
List of Personnel Who Perished in the Loss of Thresher on 10 April 1963 Online Photography of USS Thresher

Thresher

The second Thresher (SSN-593) was laid down on 28 May 1958 by the Portsmouth (N.H.) Naval Shipyard; launched on 9 July 1960; sponsored by Mrs. Frederick B. Warder; and commissioned on 3 August 1961, Comdr. Dean W. Axene in command.Following trials the nuclear attack submarine took part in Nuclear submarine Exercise (NUSUBEX) 3-61 off the northeastern coast of the United States from 18 to 24 September.On 18 October; the submarine headed south along the east coast. After calling at San Juan, Puerto Rico, she conducted further trials and test-fired her torpedo system before returning to Portsmouth on 29 November. The ship remained in port through the end of the year and spent the first two months of 1962 evaluating her sonar system and her Submarine Rocket (SUBROC) system. In March, the submarine participated in NUSUBEX 2-62, an exercise designed to improve the tactical capabilities of nuclear submarines , and in antisubmarine warfare training with Task Group ALPHA.Off Charleston, the ship undertook operations observed by the Naval Antisubmarine Warfare Council, before she returned briefly to New England waters from whence she proceeded to Florida for SUBROC tests. However, while mooring at Port Canaveral, the submarine was accidentally struck by a tug which damaged one of her ballast tanks. After repairs at Groton, Conn., by the Electric Boat Company, the ship returned south for more tests and trials off Key West. Thresher then returned northward and remained in dockyard hands through the early spring of 1963.In company with Skylark (ASR-20), Thresher put to sea on 10 April 1963 for deep-diving exercises. In addition to her 16 officers and 96 enlisted men, the submarine carried 17 civilian technicians to observe her performance during the deep-diving tests.Fifteen minutes after reaching her assigned test depth, the submarine communicated with Skylark by underwater telephone, apprizing the submarine rescue ship of difficulties. Garbled transmissions indicated that--far below the surface--things were going wrong. Suddenly, listeners in Skylark heard a noise "like air rushing into an air tank"--then, silence.Efforts to reestablish contact with Thresher failed, and a search group was formed in an attempt to locate the submarine. Rescue ship Recovery (ASR-43) subsequently recovered bits of debris, including gloves and bits of internal insulation. Photographs taken by bathyscaph Trieste proved that the submarine had broken up, taking all hands on board to their deaths in 5,500 of water, some 220 miles east of Boston. Thresher was officially declared lost in April 1963.Subsequently, a Court of Inquiry was convened and, after studying pictures and other data, opined that the loss of Thresher was in all probability due to a casting, piping, or welding failure that flooded the engine room with water. This water probably caused electrical failures that automatically shutdown the nuclear reactor, causing an initial power loss and the eventual loss of the boat.Thresher is in six major sections on the ocean floor, with the majority in a single debris field about 400 yards square. The major sections are the sail, sonar dome, bow section, engineering spaces, operations spaces, and the tail section.Owing to the pressurized-water nuclear reactor in the engine room, deep ocean radiological monitoring operations were conducted in August 1983 and August 1986. The site had been previously monitored in 1965 and 1977 and none of the samples obtained showed any evidence of release of radioactivity from the reactor fuel elements. Fission products were not detected above concentrations typical of worldwide background levels in sediment, water, or marine life samples.
30 July 2001

There were many more interesting folks who visited my tent. So many were from the New York and New England area. One lady who bought my framed pavilion image was from Alaska. She didn't know Sarah, but she liked her. What's not to like?

It's My Day

2008-11-05T09:47:00.012-05:00

This morning as I was writing this post, I took this picture from my window. The trees are just gorgeous this time of the year. Although my birthday is today, I'm not crazy about fall. I absolutely hate cold weather, and fall means that winter is just around the corner.

Here's another one.
As usual, I've waited until the last minute to get my car tags. In Georgia we have to renew during our birthday month, so off I went to get my car inspected. I talked with the man in charge who was a nice, older black man. We talked about Obama and McCain. I think he detected a little concern on my face because he said it's all in God's hands, so I shouldn't worry. He said McCain is a good man and Obama will be getting his help. I told him that I felt sorry for McCain, and he told me that according to the bible, McCain, in his seventies, is in his strong years, so he'll be fine. I felt better.

Off I went to the tag office to buy my new tags. As I was waiting for the tags, my sister, Janie, called to wish me a happy birthday. I love getting these calls. An old, old friend, Stan left a voice mail wishing me a great day, and Barbara called and sang "Happy Birthday." Later Penny called and sang a song that she said she saw in some movie with Sandra Dee and Troy Donahue. Summer Place?

After a quick trip to Home Depot I spotted these trees on my way home.

A little after I got home, these were delivered. Daisies, my favorite, from Marcy. I love them. Thank you sooooo much.

And, it's not over. Dinner tonight with Tom and tomorrow night, dinner with Barbara and Penny. Friday, I'm meeting Sharlene at Lenox for shopping and lunch. I just love birthdays.

VOTE

2008-11-04T08:51:00.011-05:00

I voted today. I took my chances by not voting early last week, and standing in line for six hours. Tom did. He arrived at one of the early voting precincts at 6:15, and waited for the polls to open at 8:00. It only took him two hours, but that didn't sound inviting to me, so I rolled the dice. Took me FIFTEEN MINUTES. When I called Tom to gloat, he said there was a name for people like me. Of course I asked what, and he said "bitch!" I should have replied, "what, smart ?" but I didn't. I just laughed. Bless his heart.

I'm copying an email sent to me by Doris, my Huntington friend. She tries her best to keep me informed. Many of you have probably received it, but just in case you haven't, here it is. Good article.

WHY WOMEN SHOULD VOTE

This is the story of our Grandmothers and Great-grandmothers; they lived only 90 years ago.

Remember, it was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote.

The women were innocent and defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless for picketing the White House, carrying signs asking for the vote.

(Lucy Burns) And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden's blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of 'obstructing sidewalk traffic.' They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.

(Dora Lewis) They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cell mate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women. Thus unfolded the 'Night of Terror' on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote. For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop--was infested with worms. (Alice Paul) When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press. http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/suffrage/nwp/prisoners.pdf So, refresh my memory. Some women won't vote this year because- -why, exactly? We have carpool duties? We have to get to work? Our vote doesn't matter? It's raining? Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO's new movie 'Iron Jawed Angels.' It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my say. I am ashamed to say I needed the reminder. All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more rote. Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege. Sometimes it was inconvenient. My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women's history, saw the HBO movie, too. When she stopped by my desk to talk about it, she looked angry. She was--with herself. 'One thought kept coming back to me as I watched that movie,' she said. 'What would those women think of the way I use, or don't use, my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.' The right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her 'all over again.' HBO released the movie on video and DVD . I wish all history, social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum. I want it shown on Bunco and Bingo night, too, and anywhere else women gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think little shock therapy is in order. It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn't make her crazy. The doctor admonished the men: 'Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.' Please, if you are so inclined, pass this on to all the women you know. We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic, republican or independent party - remember to vote. History is being made.

Bless His Heart

2008-10-29T12:12:00.004-04:00

I just did what I never do, and that is answer the phone when it shows a tollfree number. Because I am about to start a minor kitchen renovation, I though it might have something to do with that. Could be Sears, Lowe's or Schuler. But it wasn't; it was COMCAST. This poor guy had no idea what he was getting in to. I tried to warn him, but he didn't think I was serious.

When he identified himself, I told him that he really didn't need to try to offer phone service because I already had my internet and cable with Comcast, and I didn't like the service. He was very polite, said a lot of "yes ma'ams." He asked me why I didn't like their service, and I explained to him that my internet goes down several times a week, and we have already disconnected the box from the television in the kitchen. Wierd things used to happen to the kitchen television. For example, when Tom tried to reason with the Comcast crew on the phone, they convinced him to keep at least one box in our house so we could have access to On Demand. We kept the box in the livingroom, but we've never used it.

As the conversation continued, this poor guy tried to show some compassion and really wanted to correct the problems. I BEGGED him not to send any more repair men because it just complicates the situation. I can deal with the internet going down for a few minutes. Sure it's frustrating, but life goes on. When he attempted to go there, I mentioned that millions of repair men have been on my property. Rarely are they the same person. That's one of the problems. In the past when these men have attempted to fix the problem, we've gone through the same steps. I pull out reams of paperwork, explain the problem, they shake their heads, and hours later at least two miles of cable cord is draped across my backyard. Before they leave, they tell me someone would be coming soon (two or three months) to bury the new cable. Then they come and tear up the lawn leaving mud clumps and tracks all over the yard, sidewalk and driveway. It never changes. I bet we have a ton of cord buried in our yard. I explained to the man on the phone that they always discuss cables, including the pros and cons of split cables. I don't give a rat's ass about split cables. I just want the internet and the cable t.v. to work when I turn it on.

By this time the man on the phone couldn't get in a word. I kept apologizing to him and told him that he probably needed to report our conversation (maybe it was taped). If he smokes, I'm sure he's standing outside some building in some city with at least two cigarettes in his mouth, mumbling to himself. I was really kinda easy on him; he got me early in the day. I started to go into my monopoly rant, but I kept it to a minimum. It's just not right. My AT@T friends seem to have the same problems, so there is no reason to change service. Absolutely every day I get requests to change services, but until EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM can promise that I would be speaking only to those who live in the United States and speak English, then I ain't budging. This experience is bringing back memories of my conversations with our brothers and sisters who work for Dell computers. I almost had to go into therapy after dealing with them. I've got to go and get a coke. The caffeine does me good.

Final thought. Why in the world would anyone want to bundle services? If you are on Comcast, when the cable goes down, so does the phone and internet. If you are on AT@T, when the phone goes down, so does the cable and internet. All it takes is for someone to run into a telephone pole or a construction crew to cut the cable. Remember this: Don't put all of your eggs into one basket.

RATS 101

2008-10-25T21:16:00.004-04:00

When I say rats, I don't mean rats, as in rats, or darn, or heck. I mean rats as in RODENTS.

I know when it gets cooler outside, rodents begin looking for a nice warm place to make their nests and settle in for a spell. From the clues I have gathered IN MY GARAGE it seems that an eighty pound rat has decided to call the Welcome Wagon and join the neighborhood book club.

Many of my friends have been so willing to share their experiences with me and being a novice I have listened intently and followed their directions on how to eradicate them. Here's what I know: don't use poison because they'll die in between the walls and the smell will be so bad that you'll have to move out of the house, use steel wool to stuff where you think they might be coming in, use peanut butter, creamy, not chunky, and place the traps close to the wall because they run next to the wall.

To begin, I thought the neatest option would be to go with the glue traps. EVERYONE says to use peanut butter. We bought two glue traps and I put a dollop of peanut butter on each one. Here is the first one. As you can clearly see, it hadn't been touched.

This was placed in the garage on the same day. Looked to me like I had been outsmarted by a rat. I think those are his little footprints under and to the right of the where the peanut butter was.

It soon became obvious to me that the glue traps weren't getting the job done so I decided to get the real traps, the wooden ones that will break their necks. I'm getting angry. So last week I went to Lowe's and bought two large traps. The woman in line behind me seemed concerned. When you buy these things, people look at you in horror. Some just shake their heads and tell you their stories. That is where I get lots of my information like, about whether to use smooth or chunky peanut butter, among other things. My salesman at Lowe's told me that he used Slimjims. I don't know where to buy Slimjims.

I thought this was going to be a simple project, setting the traps. HA! My husband and I tried everyway possible to set them and we couldn't figure it out. I even went on the website and watched a video. Still didn't get it. We blamed it on the traps. Obviously they were defective. I wasn't going to let this little bump in the road stop me. The next day I went to The Home Depot to check out their traps. I found them and even went to a sales associate and asked her to show me how to set the trap. She very calmly showed me and I was convinced that I got it. As soon as I got home, Tom and I started to fiddle with them and again no luck. After working with them for at least thirty minutes, Tom mentioned to me with clinched teeth that between us we had four degrees and we were pathetic. I agreed. Stupid was more like it. At last he got it. The secret is tension. We put the peanut butter on them and off we marched to the garage to catch this varmit.

Every day I ask Tom to check the garage to see if we had success. I just can't look. It absolutely grosses me out. A couple of days passed and this is what he found.

Outsmarted again. This is not over.

Going to Art in the Park

2008-10-09T22:10:00.001-04:00

Just wanted to let y'all that I'll be at Art in the Park until Monday. I'm sure I'll have lots to write about when I get back home.

Dear Martha,

2008-10-07T09:42:00.004-04:00

Help me out. I'm getting a little concerned about your stock. In October, 2005 a month or two after you were released from the pokey, I bought several of your shares at $20.95. I just checked with my guru and YOUR STOCK IS DOWN to $1.01. You do the math. This has got to stop. You have got to do something to turn this corportation around. Hire new people. Let's get some people with some real brains. Look into the retired teacher's associations and interview the newly retired. Those people have to be smart to get out of the rat races that they have been in for 30 plus years. Specifically, elementary teachers. They are creative, smart and IN CONTROL. Middle and high school teachers tend to look at the bottom line. They could work on motivational techniques and work flow. Look into it. But in the meantime, read on.

Work with me here. You can't do it alone. You need to start with a Martha Stewart Academy where you could teach your sophisticated skills to others. Those lucky participants would be trained in every aspect of your organization. The goal would be to send them out into the general public to peddle your wares. In a minute you will see the connection.

I know you have already offered to the public items, such as: books, tapes, houses, paint, dinnerware, cookware, craft items, scrapbook items, flowers, bridal items, furniture, etc. And you have exposure on your television shows, radio shows, your website, and your magazine, but that's just not enough. GET BUSY, you have got to start thinking BIG. How about a mall?

You could start with mini (strip) malls. I know you would rather start Mall Of America size, but let's be realistic. These could be all over the world. These malls could have stores dedicated to specific Martha Stewart items. They would be staffed by those lucky people who have attended your academy. A cookware store kinda like Williams Sonoma only it will be just your stuff. I'm thinking cooking classes and canned food. The food could come from your farms and manufactured in your factories. That'll be in a later letter. A scrapbook store where you and your people could conduct classes. A paint store. Again, offer classes on Martha techniques. Of course a bookstore, where you could have book studies on various genres of books. Here's a tip: you could recommend different authors for a price... and it wouldn't be cheap. It could be themed. The summer months you could recommend beach trash. Since you are probably unaware of this genre, you could employ any number of teachers who are off for the summer. They need the extra money. Come on Martha, get down with us. Join the general population. Another store could sell large machinery...kinda like John Deere, but pretty. Paint them in those pretty blues or greens. I saw a lot of bobcats down at the beach, but they were bright yellow. (See blog dated 9/19/08.) That just doesn't blend with the beach. Think BIG, Martha. Of course there would be restaurants at the mall. Lot's of them. Also included would be furniture stores for different types of houses. Since you have several, you know what I mean. From formal to casual you could please everyone's tastes. Speaking of furniture you could also build your own manufacturing company, located, of course, in North Carolina. I hear there are several companies closing down, so you could just move in those vacated building.

I could go on and on. There are so many areas that could be explored. Photography in which I would be in charge. Leave THAT to me. And clothing... for everyone. Move over Calvin. Summer camps for children and music, that could be big. Computers and technology still have to be developed. Again, think about using those pretty colors. I'm getting sick of black, gray and white. But that's just me.

I'm trying to help you, Martha. I'll continue to develop and refine my proposals. Keep a stiff upper lip. You can do it. This week's goal has got to be to get that stock up to at least ten bucks by Friday. Go Martha!

Love,
Nancy

If It's October 2nd, It's Barbara's Birthday

2008-10-02T10:44:00.009-04:00

Birthdays have always been a pretty big deal in my group of friends, and this one is no exception. Barbara and I have been really, really good friends for a hundred years, okay more like forty-five. But that's a long time. We met in junior high, continued our friendship through high school, then college, working at the beach in the summers, and, finally, moving to Atlanta. Of course, we weren't alone in this journey. Penny and Mary were also along for the ride. I'm not going to get into the details, and there are many. Just suffice it to say that our friendships have continued to grow and strengthen through the years.

This is a picture of Barbara that we had to submit in order to be extras in the movie, We Are Marshall. As usual, we were in a rush, so there wasn't much time for touch-ups. I took this shot of her in my closet with my small camera. As you can tell, she needed no touch-ups. Her blue eyes are lookin' pretty good. Pretty good lighting, don't you think?

Each spring the four of us go to Mary's condo at Hilton Head. We look so forward to it because we just go on the beach and relax. Not that our lives are as hectic as they used to be, but it's great to just sit and talk. Here's a shot of Barbara at a Hilton Head restaurant. I cropped everyone else because...well, because it's Barbara's birthday and this is all about her!

Last May instead of going to Hilton Head, we went to New York City. Here is a shot of the four of us in our hotel room after spending the afternoon walking across the Brooklyn Bridge and shopping at a mecca called Canal Street. Wonder where Barbara bought those shirts. Barbara is pictured on the far left.

I took this shot of Barbara on the subway going to Brooklyn. She was such a good sport to pose after such a long day.

So, here's what I know about Barbara (in no special order):

she's a great listener
she's always supports her friends

she can never sit still

she's a wonderful mother of two boys

she likes to make dinner for people, really, she likes to do it

she loves to take long walks (last year she did the 3-Day Walk)

she's a loving wife

she loves to entertain, especially around the holidays

she is an eternal optimist

she's a Christian

she likes to decorate and does a great job

she thinks before she speaks...always

she's very, very, patient

and finally, she's a great friend

Happy Birthday, my friend.

O.K., I just had to include this photo of us on the set of We Are Marshall, taken in downtown Atlanta. Now that's funny.

Love,

Nancy

A Sign Of The Times

2008-09-29T12:03:00.013-04:00

As I sit and write this post, the local news stations are leading with stories of gas shortages all over the Atlanta area. They have reporters posted in different areas confirming what we have known for a couple of weeks now that we really are out of gas.

I'm one of the lucky ones since I no longer work full-time, so I'm not using gallons of gas each week. I've noticed that the volume of traffic has declined during the day, which makes it easier to get to Target in less time than normal.

Anyway, last week, I noticed that my gas was hovering around a quarter of a tank, so I made it my mission on Friday to just suck it up and go on a scavenger hunt. As luck would have it, I found gas at a Quicktrip station about ten minutes from my house. I waited in line for less than ten minutes ...I was lucky. FYI California friends, I still only had to pay $3.97. No gouging at Quicktrip.

On the way home, as I passed several stations that were empty, and since I have a lot of family and friends who don't live in the south, I thought I should take pictures so y'all could see what is happening down here. So I got my camera and hit the road.

The images below speak for themselves.

Here's how they keep people from trying to pump gas when there is none. I guess some people can't read the signs...or maybe they think they're just kidding. I have to say that that BP's bag looks a lot more professional than the plastic bag that the Shell station used.

You would have to see it to believe it...I found a gas station that actually had gas and lines.

And finally a close-up. Most of the stations have employees directing traffic. That seems to keep road rage or gas rage under control. But I've heard stories. It's not pretty.

The pundits seem to think we have two more weeks of this so-called shortage. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and my camera in my car.

S.O.S., Saturday afternoon

2008-09-26T09:35:00.023-04:00

Every spring and fall, Tom and I go to O.D. (North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina) for S.O.S. This year was special for Tom because it was his twenty-fifth anniversary of deejaying for this event. Pam, H.Lee, Maria, and Steven were "the planning committee" for this occasion and we have so much to thank them for. Basically, this was Tom's day and this blog is all about him. I'm importing 18 images that include our friends and especially, "the folks between the posts." These are the loyal followers of not only Tom, but of his music.

On Saturday afternoon when he deejays, he always passes out "backstage passes" with the tour's name on it. In several of the shots you will see people with the passes around their necks. This year's tour was, "Playing What You Need to Hear, Not What You Want To Hear." He doesn't take requests or do special dances, i.e. birthday or anniversaries. Like the backstage passes say, he plays what folks need to hear and he doesn't think they need to hear The Electric Slide. He plays three afternoons from 3 P.M. until 7:00 P.M.

At around 6:00, the manager of the pavilion, H.Lee, told him to stop the music and come to the dance floor. THAT NEVER HAPPENS. He joined "the folks between the posts," not knowing what was about to occur. The spokesman for the ceremony was Milton, the second in command of "the folks between the posts." That's just the way it is.

I have no idea of what he was saying because I was several feet away. There was no way they could have gotten these people to get quiet. Remember they have been in a party mode for several hours, if you know what I mean. It looks like Milton must have said something funny judging by Kim's (the guy with the white tee shirt, who by the way, drove four hours Saturday morning to be there for the presentation) expression. In the picture above, behind Milton's left shoulder, is Billie and to her left is Linda Gray, Charles' sister-in-law. Directly behind them is Joe, a newcomber to the tribe.

In the picture below, Milton is reading the inscription on a plaque that "the folks between the posts" gave him. H. Lee is standing next to him, holding the plaque. The words on the plaque were, "Thanks for 25 years of boogie woogie music." Wonder what Tom's thinking?

Next, H.Lee made his presentation in which he and his wife, Pam, presented him with one of his anniversary tee shirts framed with two photographs.

This presentation was followed by Tom trying his best to hold back the tears. He was so surprised and humbled by the whole ceremony.

This shot is of Charles, the leader of the tribe, giving some kind words to Tom. Through the years they have become close friends. Charles has been such a support to Tom and always knows the right thing to say.

Again, Tom and Charles.

Pictured below are Linda Carol on the left and Cathy Jane on the right. I have no clue who the woman is in the center. Both women are the the Hall of Fame, and are such southern ladies. I guess you could tell that they're from the south by their names, Linda Carol and Cathy Jane. Cathy Jane's sister is Linda Gray. It goes on and on.

Steven (a.k.a. Stevie) and Maria were "the planning committee." Maria hung banners and balloons and I have no idea of what Steven did. I guess he did what Maria told him to.

We share a condo with Freck and Sylvia each S.O.S. Both Freck and Sylvia are in the Hall of Fame. Great dancers, wonderful friends.

This is Phyllis and her friend Skip. Phyllis, another Hall of Famer, has been a supporter for years. Skip, although a local, is a newcomer to the group. I have to say that Phyllis has the MOST SOUTHERN accent that I have ever heard. She can put at least two syllables in the words "help" or "at". Really, it's a gift.

Maria and Sylvia just lookin' good. They shamed me into wearing lipstick.

Tom and Rosie. What a doll. Sweet to the bone.

Freck, Sylvia's husband, took this shot. Not bad. That's me in my new orange sweater.

Hanging around the outside of the pavilion were these two. On the left is Steve and on the right is Butch. Both are deejays at Duck's. Ain't they somethin'?

Pam and H. Lee joined Tom in the deejay booth for one final shot. One big happy family. Can't wait until spring.

SOS, Society of Stranders, Friday afternoon

2008-09-23T10:43:00.018-04:00

In my last post I mentioned that we were at the beach because of SOS. I found an article at http://www.tripsmarter.com%20and/that does a good job explaining this phenomenon that we attend twice a year.

S.O.S. Fall MigrationMyrtle Beach, SC -
The Society of Stranders calls its thousands of active members to return to North Myrtle Beach in mid-September for one last big party before winter sets in. Days and nights are filled with activities, shagging and sightseeing. Clubs around the Ocean Drive section pitch in to make sure that every evening resounds with nonstop beach music.
If you've never been Shag Dancing, you've missed out on an American original... this dance craze started in Myrtle Beach over 50 years ago, and it's still going strong. Shaggers slip into their special Shaggin' shoes all year long, but the highlight of every calendar is the S.O.S. Fall Migration - a "pilgrimage" to the birthplace of Shag, Myrtle Beach.

What is "Shag" you ask? It's a phenomenal dance craze that started here, in Myrtle Beach, in the 40 and 50's. Local teens invented the dance step that is most suited to Rhythm & Blues music. But "Shag" is much more than a style of swing dancing, it is a way of life for people from Virginia Beach to Florida!

"Serious shaggers are in a lifestyle, which goes way beyond the dance, it's a camaraderie thing," Phil Sawyer, President Emeritus of S.O.S says. "I've been involved for over fifty years, serious for twenty-five, and I see it all the time... serious bonding between shaggers, they bond and stay bonded... shagging is far more than a dance, it's a lifestyle."
If you don't think these folks take this seriously, think again. "We've had churches call wanting to know when S.O.S is having our Fall Migration, so they don't schedule revivals during that time! And we've had people call about weddings for the same reason," according to S.O.S.'s Mr. Sawyer.

Shag is a 6-count, basic pattern dance with East Coast Swing. There is a rearrangement of the footwork that makes it look and feel unique. All the action occurs below the waist, though instructors tend to teach a very standard basic pattern..
True seasoned "Shaggers" take pride in adopting their own versions of the dance, each being distinctive and smooth. Using the balls of their feet and small steps, "Shaggers" manage to perform this very "cool" style of dance to individual perfection!

Now that you know about S.O.S., here are some pictures of the O.D. Pavilion and our friends who were there while Tom was playing. This was the crowd outside on Friday afternoon. Who works?

And this was inside. That's Sam, the good-looking one with the sunglasses on his head.

Here's the deejay, my Tom, having a big time.

I couldn't get shots of all of our friends, only a few. This is Norfleet and Brenda.

This is young Geoff doing some fancy footwork.

And this is my stepson, George, and his partner, Crystal. He likes to dress-up for these occasions.

I took several breaks while Tom was playing and went on the beach to take a few shots. Look what I found. They were everywhere!

I did get some good beach shots, but I'll wait for another time to post them.

At last 7 P.M. came and we went. This is a shot of the group going to a condo to dine on "Frogmore Stew," or some call it "Low Country Boil." Thanks, Skip.

Just another day at the beach.

Wouldn't You Just Know It

2008-09-19T12:48:00.020-04:00

This is SOS week at North Myrtle Beach. I'll explain SOS in a later email, but today I've got to show you what happened to us the day after we arrived. I had great intentions: walk on the beach getting that badly needed exercise, get some sun at the pool, and just look at the ocean from our condo. HA! Here's a picture of our view taken on Wednesday after we checked in. As you can see, we don't exactly have an ocean view. They call it "side view." Yea, side view if you lean over the balcony while someone is hanging on to you. But this is the good part.

The next morning, after my coke and bagel, I put on my shorts and tennis shoes to get ready for my big walk on the beach. Before I got my iPod and water, I decided to investigate the situation, so I walked to the beach, and this is what I saw.

And then it came closer.

And even closer.

It wasn't looking good for walking on the beach, I hung around and watched the action. This is called a crab. It checks the bottom of the ocean for holes. That's what they told us. Here's more.

If you look in the upper left of the image, you will sand and water gushing. They, the Army Corps of Engineers, were pipeing sand from the ocean to the beach, and they had to do it during this week! Here's more.

There were lots of these little machines...looked like backhoes, but I don't know machinery. Here he comes again.

By the Thursday afternoon, they were moving down the beach. They started stacking the pipes right next to our condo.

This is the final shot. This morning, Friday, one long pipe was still in place, I guess it's transporting sand down the beach. I've lost interest.

I Did It Again

2008-09-15T20:47:00.017-04:00

Last Tuesday afternoon, I got a call from Extras Casting. Somehow after working on We Are Marshall, I remained on someone's list because two years ago, I was called twice to do a "gig" on October Road, but the timing wasn't right, and besides I didn't want to drive forty to fifty miles south of my house at 5:30 in the morning. The caller asked me if I wanted to be an extra in a pilot for a television show, called "Drop Dead Diva." This time I knew the questions to ask: when, where, and how much would I be paid. Although it was less than minimum wage, I decided since the location was about ten miles from my house and I didn't have to be there until 6:30, I would do it.

The next morning, with mapquest in hand, I loaded up my stuff. I took books, extra make-up, shoes, and of course, my camera. I arrived on time, went to the hospital (abandoned), was given the wrong directions, finally found the right place for extras and waited. That's what you do when you're an extra...wait. After an hour or so, they herded us to wardrobe in groups. For the first scene, I was a nurse. I was given scrubs and tennis shoes and proceeded to a trailer to change. Again, we were herded onto the set (Hollywood talk) to take our places. I was lucky because for this first scene, Carol and I were placed behind the Nurses' Station in chairs. Yea! Carol and her son were also extras in We Are Marshall (WAM). It was good seeing her again.

Just like WAM, they rehearsed the scene about five to ten times before beginning to film. They moved extras around, changed the camera angle, and generally walked around in circles until they were happy. When they began filming, it took at least ten to fifteen takes to complete the scene. The good thing about this "gig" was that there were less than fifty extras. This enabled the director, the assistant director, and the production assistants to give us individual instructions. One smallish man came up to me and introduced himself as Jim. He asked my name, then proceeded to show me what he wanted me to do. My instructions were to hold my hands in the air as if starting to type something on the computer. He was a pleasant guy, but very serious and very, very focused. I started to tell him about my degrees thinking that that would comfort him knowing that I wasn't a total idiot, but held back. It was a good thing that I kept my mouth shut because I later found out that he was the director. It wouldn't be a good thing to be a smart ass to the director. McG, who was the director in WAM hardly ever had direct contact with the extras. I'm just sayin'.

The conditions of the set could have been worse. Because this was in an abandoned hospital, there was no air-conditioning. They had a huge vent piping in cold air, but when they were shooting, it was turned off. By the afternoon, it was getting really, really, hot. They provided lots of water, soft drinks and snacks during the breaks. Again, this didn't happen on the sets of WAM. We had to keep our water bottles and fill them up at the fountains. It's probably because of the large numbers of extras and who knows what their budget was. I just bet Matthew McG got anything he wanted. He had a personal assistant who hovered with Gatorade and a wet towel. I didn't see an assistant hovering around Matthew Fox. I don't even need to start about how I feel about this narcissistic business. My brother-in-law told he they call it "the industry" in LA...that's industry talk for Los Angeles.

The camera man was of utmost importance in the two scenes in which I was involved. It seems that the diva dies in a car wreck at the beginning of the show. The way we (other extras) figure it, after the accident, she is brought to the emergency room, where she either comes back to life, or that is where she dies. Hard to tell. When the action began the camera man who spoke with a German accent, walked quickly down a hall with the camera attached to his body, then turned right passing the nurses' station and went in a back office and shot through a window. I don't want to mislead you into thinking that it was just a camera man, it was he, a guy one step behind him carrying a battery or two, a guy carrying cords and another guy carrying cords. We always knew when they were coming because they always followed the same sequence: rolling, counting from ten to one, then action, then freeze, then eyes open, then cut. The only thing we could figure as to why they yelled, "eyes open," was the diva either came back to life or opened her eyes before she died. I know I'm on the edge of my seat. When Jim and them (a southern phrase, kinda like your mama and 'em) were happy with this first scene, we were sent to Extras' Holding.

A P.A. (industry talk for production assistant) entered the holding area after we had been waiting for about an hour, and announced that we needed to change for the next scene. I changed into my original outfit which was basic khaki slacks and a coral blouse. We were herded into another section of the hospital. The placement of the extras took about thirty minutes. Carol and I kinda stayed in the background thinking that it might be cooler if we weren't under the lights in the hallway. As luck would have it, I was moved to the hot hallway and was instructed to act like I was in the middle of a step. The man next to me, who was playing a doctor, gave me some documents to fan myself. In the shot it looked as if I was reading the papers. You know, sometimes they pay attention to details and sometimes they don't. Since I figure I was supposed to be a visitor, you would think I would have a purse. But, I didn't. No one did. The guy across the hall from me was in a hospital gown sitting on a gurney. We think he was supposed to have a head injury, but he was sitting up with his legs dangling off of the side with an IV taped to his arm. One of the extras who is a nurse said that hospitals don't let you sit up on a gurney, especially with a head injury. I don't know if it was the heat or lack of food that made this scene funny. While the crew were setting things up, this guy kept mumbling something about smelling "poop," only that wasn't the word he was using. Then his friend, who was playing a doctor, was standing next to what looked like a circuit breaker. He kept opening and closing the door to the circuit breaker making a squeaking sound. The two of them were driving me to distraction... and I told them, but it had no effect. During this time, another extra told a P.A. that she was getting dizzy. The natives were getting restless. It really was hot and there was no air circulating, but the crew were working as fast as they could. At one point, the guy who was on the gurney jumped off and started straightening the sheet, mumbling something about having to do everything himself. He was really, really comical...I guess you had to be there.

At last the camera man came running down the hall. The word was that we would appear as blurs. The camera man and his friends stopped at the double doors and shot through the small windows in the door. They probably did that run about five times. It will be interesting to see how that scene turns out. I figure it was about three hours work, including the crew setting it up, for about four seconds on the screen. People actually like to do this.

We broke for lunch about 1:30 and at 2:30 we were back in the holding area. Another P.A. announced that they were going to let eight of us go. After another thirty minutes, he chose me and seven others who could leave. After signing my paperwork, I was in the car and home in thirty minutes.

One big difference in this group and the WAM group was that there were lots of serious extras here. Many of them had been in other projects in the Atlanta area. They love it and really, really, want to act.

This is Meg with another extra. In real life, she is a nurse. She's been an extra in several movies.

This is Carol. In real life, she is in real estate. After WAM, she was an extra in several episodes of October Road.

This is Gary. He did a commercial for Mr. Sparkey and a reality show on BTV. He seems to know "the industry" and enjoys being an extra. During one of our conversations, I mentioned that I would have liked to be more involved in what went on behind the cameras...like a camera person or a producer, etc. You know, in charge. But Gary has no interest in being behind the scenes, he wants to be an actor...actually he is an actor, but just needs big parts.

Before I left the property, I took a few shots of the action.

It was fun meeting new people and seeing how this group differed from the WAM group. It's an exciting business, but not something I would like to do on a permanent basis. Too much waiting around...I've go too much to do.

Who Knew?

2008-09-12T16:52:00.010-04:00

Who knew that this little boy from South Carolina, named Tommy,

and this little girl from West Virginia, named Nancy,

would meet in Georgia, fall in love, and get married thirty-two years later?

Happy Anniversary, Tom, I love you.

My New York City Adventure: Part 5, One Final Image

2008-09-11T21:01:00.006-04:00

The night before we left New York to return home, I went to the pier located at the back of the hotel that is on the Hudson River. The pier was directly across from The World Trade Center in lower Manhattan. The sun was setting as I set up my equipment, so I was able to get images as the sky grew darker. This is one of my best images.

Thanks to my sister, Janie, my brother-in-law, Dennis, and my husband, Tom, for being so patient with me as I took all of these images. I couldn't do it by myself. Their encouragement and support continues to motivate me to delve deeper and deeper into this endeavor.

My New York City Adventure: Part 4, The Brooklyn Bridge

2008-09-10T22:34:00.024-04:00

After the Groom's Dance and a quick bagel, Tom and I started on our trek to Brooklyn. But before we landed there, Tom wanted to take a few pictures of the Brill Building somewhere near Times Square. You would think that since we are reasonably educated people we would have the address of the building. We didn't have the address, but Tom remembered seeing it on the red bus tour that we took four or five years ago. This was the only thing that Tom mentioned that he wanted to do while in New York, and I knew it was the least I could do because he was carrying my equipment and was going to help me find that park to the north of the Brooklyn Bridge. He vaguely remembered it being about a block from where we got off the bus. So as soon as we found the red buses, believe it or not, we found the Brill Building.

The following article on the Brill Building was found at: www.timessquarenyc.org/then_now_music_attractions.html

The Brill Building…("Tin Pan Alley")
1619 Broadway, in the heart of New York’s music district, is a building that changed the course of popular music history.
The Brill Building (named after the Brill Brothers, whose clothing store was originally located in the street level corner and who would later purchase the entire building), was completed in 1931 and intended to house the offices of brokers and bankers. The owners were obliged by a deepening Depression to rent space to music publishers, since there were few other takers. By 1962, the Brill Building contained 165 music businesses.
Here you could write a song, hire the musicians, cut a demo, and take it around the building to record companies, publishers, managers, artists and promoters. To this day, some refer to the building and its environs as “Tin Pan Alley”, though others insist the famed district was only West 28th Street between 6th Avenue and Broadway.
Famous Brill Building musicians and songwriters include Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Carole King, Hal David, Burt Bacharach, Neil Sedaka, Paul Anka, Eric Clapton, Jim Croce, Bobby Darin, John Denver, Neil Diamond, Bob Dylan, Howard Greenfield, Billy Joel, Johnny Mercer, Kris Kristofferson, John Lennon, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon, Paul Simon, and James Taylor.
To appreciate the tremendous effect these and other Brill Building denizens had on American popular culture, one has only to scan the play list of the popular radio and television program, Your Hit Parade. Of the 1,278 songs performed by the show’s cast throughout its run from 1935 to 1958, 404 songs, approximately one third, originated with Brill Building publishers.

We did really brilliant things that day, starting with getting off the PATH train at 33rd street and walking ten blocks north to Times Square when we could have changed trains, but we didn't want to wait. Then we began looking for a bathroom. Went into a hotel that was in the middle of renovations thinking that we would walk right into the lobby and find a restroom. Wrong. Then went into the Best Western, walked right past the concierge as if we were staying there, found the restroom but didn't have a key. Finally went into a pizza restaurant, ordered a coke and went to the restroom. Then walked a few more blocks to find the subway to Brooklyn.

When we finally got on the subway, the conductor, who could have cared less if anyone understood him because it sounded like he was sucking down the microphone, announced that the High Street Station was closed and we would have to get off at Jay Street and transfer and on and on. I only halfway listened, but Tom, who is almost deaf, did. Thank goodness. We could have wound up at Coney Island if we had to depend on me. I wasn't an auditory learner, but I can hear; I just don't listen. Makes sense.

To continue, we did get off at Jay Street and, believe it or not, we were around the corner from a Marriott where Janie and I had stayed a year ago. I remembered that the Brooklyn Bridge was several blocks down the street, so we started walking. It's really an optical illusion when you are walking towards the bridge because you aren't really looking at the Brooklyn Bridge, it's the Manhattan Bridge...it becomes clear as you approach it. You really have to be there to understand what I'm trying to say. Anyway, we had a Google map in hand and tried to follow the streets. The map was emailed to me by a girl named Karyn, who has a blog under the name of Pretty in the City. We had one million arguments during that walk. Tom was right about the directions. He's a stickler for following the map, and I wanted to follow the crowd. I just figured that they were all coming or going to the park. This area in Brooklyn is called Dumbo, Down (or directly) Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. It reminded me of some areas in Boston. Quaint. Cute shops and restaurants. But we couldn't stop. Had to keep going. Had to get THE SHOT. On the way we passed the famous pizza restaurant, Grimaldi's, where you wait in line outside for hours. Really. We kept going.

At about 5:30 we reached the park. I was so disappointed because the shot I wanted would be impossible without having access to a rooftop. That was until we changed positions and got closer to the bridge. As usual I took a million shots. Poor Tom, who was totally exhausted and starving, sat patiently on the park bench for over an hour. Several of the images turned out pretty good. I haven't had time to photoshop them yet, so I'll have to post them without enhancements.

The park closed at 7:00, just as the lights were coming on. I wish we could have stayed later, but I didn't want to get arrested. That's just me. So we packed up the equipment and began our trip back to New Jersey. Being the Sunday before Labor Day, we didn't think there would be that many people riding the trains. Wrong again.

I will spare you the horrid details of our return trip to the hotel. Let's just say that the subway stations were crowded and hot, very hot. We got up close and personal with many of our friends from New Jersey. Needless to say, we were late in meeting Nancy, Bill, Janie and Dennis for the "cocktail party" that I planned.

What a day! Starting with the Groom's Dance and ending with the Brooklyn Bridge it was an adventure that I will never forget, and I know Tom won't!

My New York City Adventure: Part 3, The Groom's Dance

2008-09-09T20:58:00.029-04:00

Sunday morning as I was preparing to go on my big shoot of the Brooklyn Bridge, my sister called my room to tell me to go to the lobby and take my camera. I quickly finished dressing, jumped on the elevator and hopped on the escalator. Seeing the "big-girl" camera in my hand, and excitement in my face, the doorman told me to go to the pier to see the celebration. I had no idea what was going on, but I was going to find out. Here's what I saw first.

Then I went to the back of the pier and saw this man in a carriage. Someone in the crowd told me that this was a wedding celebration. Below are two images of the groom in the carriage with his young cousins.

What I and many others were observing was an Indian wedding ritual called a barat. This is the arrival of the groom and his family and friends at the wedding venue. As you can see, it is a huge procession with lots of dancing. Back in the day, the groom arrived on a horse decorated with beads and jewels, but this groom chose a carriage pulled by a horse. The procession of relatives and friends is called barati. I don't know what the plural is for barati, but this groom had lots of it!

A deejay in a van led the procession, playing traditional Indian music and shouting instructions to them along the way.

Pictured below is the groom dancing with his parents and most likely, his brother.

The procession continues. The groom is back in the carriage.

This young woman stopped and let me take her picture. She laughed and said, "right place at the right time!" I nodded and thanked her. She must like photography also, because she knew all of the color and the action helped to make beautiful pictures. Plus, the weather was perfect.

This older gentleman must have been the groom's grandfather. Bless his heart, he walked and danced all of the way with the barati. Here's Trigger! I have a feeling this wasn't his first barat.

Looks like he's had enough fun for one day.

Next, the wedding. Wasn't invited. Couldn't sneak in. Don't have a sari.

The groom entered last. Check out his shoes. I hope he got something to eat before the wedding. That was quite a workout and I bet he's starving.

The bride wasn't supposed to see him before the ceremony, but it would have been easy for her to sneak a peek. I wish I could have seen her. Bet she was gorgeous.

On to the Brooklyn Bridge.

My New York City Adventure: Part 2, The Hudson Swing Affair

2008-09-08T10:55:00.012-04:00

Tom usually deejays for the shag crowd in South Carolina. This was different. The dancers at this event were mostly swing dancers, west coast, east coast, lindy, and a little shag. From what I've observed while watching swing dancers is that they LOVE to dance. They dance to lots of different kinds of music; but they really like it fast. Tom loves rhythm and blues, and sometimes throws in a little Motown...that's what I like.

Friday night he played in the Manhattan Ballroom, located on the top floor of the hotel. There is a balcony at the rear of the room that overlooks the New York City skyline. Here's Tom during one of his breaks Friday night. The tall building over Tom's right shoulder is the Empire State Building. Don't worry, I took much better shots that I will show you in later posts.

During these events there are usually workshops where various instructors teach steps and techniques. A couple from North Myrtle Beach, Jackie and Charley, were there to dance and to teach their workshops, Carolina Shag Footwork and Carolina Shag For Everyone. Here's Tom and Charley during another break.

Saturday night was the Black and White Ball. This was a dressier affair where most everyone wore, you guessed it, black or white,or black and white. It's a good thing it was before Labor Day, because everyone knows we don't wear white after Labor Day, or do we? It was lots of fun and the best part was that they loved Tom's music and most everyone danced to every song!

After the show that included a burlesque star and a comedian, Tom and I went to the lobby to meet my family. My niece Nancy (from Connecticut) and her friend Bill met us in New York for a quick visit. Nancy is a swing dancer, but didn't get the the hotel in time to attend the ball. We were all tired from the long day. Janie and Dennis went to Ellis Island, Jennifer worked on her school plans and, of course, Tom and I were at the event.

In this shot we are catching up and relaxing before we start out again tomorrow. Tom is going with me to shoot the Brooklyn Bridge, but before that a HUGE surprise. Check it out tomorrow. HINT: Not everyone in the hotel was there for the swing event. Hummmmm