The Wall, part 3- The hanging begins...

Okay, so maybe a year or two have passed since I began this project. I have tons of excuses...things get in my way and other projects seem jump to the front of the line. I've discovered that putting this project on a list of things "to do," or establishing another deadline just doesn't work. So here's what I do. 

I hang one or two and stare and think. Then I wait another month or two and hang another one and stare and think. That's my pattern. 

This process could drive some people crazy. My husband has given up. The external pressure doesn't affect my process. It takes time, and patience. 

I was a Campfire Girl. One part of the oath was, "to finish what I've begun." It will get done.  

The Wall, part 2

As you can already tell, it takes me a long time to complete a project. This is going to take forever because I've got lots of other things going on that are more, might I say, pressing. But I will make every effort to proceed in a timely fashion because I would really like to have this completed by, dare I say, Christmas. I hate deadlines, but sometimes they are necessary, and in this case, THEY ARE NECESSARY. 

So now I have the blank wall that needs to be painted. But I'm not going to do it yet because I will have a million holes in the wall to fix when this project is completed. Makes sense. 

Planning is important to me when I hang a picture. I'm afraid that I will do what I have always done, and that is, make several nail holes. This time, I'm on top of it. I printed out a grid (Microsoft table insert) of the wall, measured the pictures that I plan to hang, cut out their pattern, and placed them on the grid with tape. I'm not sure how this is going to work, or IF It's going to work. So...here's the grid with several patterns placed on it. 

Now I just have to find my hammer. That could take days...

The Wall, part 1

I'm starting a new project in the living room. To give the room some life and to move some of my framed photography from the closet, I have decided to hang them in a design that some have called "a gallery" or "salon style." It seems that Parisians used to hang portraits in their salons and when new paintings were completed instead of moving and rearranging the old ones to make room for the new ones, they just hung them in random order. I'm not that brave. I have printed a grid and am working to arrange the framed photographs in some kind of pattern. 

Pictured below is the wall. It currently has three framed botanical prints that would appear to be the same. Most people don't notice, but they are the same. It was a deal that I couldn't pass up! I bought them at Restoration Hardware years ago. It's time for them to go.

Stay with me. This is going to take weeks. 

Wishing and Hoping

It's a rainy day today. Just wishing and hoping and planning and dreaming I was there. 

The Hamptons

When I think of the Hamptons, hydrangeas don't come to mind. But, I really did take this shot in front of a bakery in East Hampton. Such a beautiful area. So different from crowds of NYC. 

Just getting you ready for the next post!

Tomatoes

About a month ago, I participated in an event called, Love and Home Grown Tomatoes. The purpose was to raise funds to expand its work of growing fresh food for local food pantries and to provide garden plots for community members. 


Since it was an event involving TOMATOES, I tried to be as creative as possible. I mean how many ways can one shoot a tomato? Whatever. I tried.  

Damn!

It's not even 11 a.m. and things aren't getting any better. This morning at 4:15 I woke up. I tried and tried to go back to sleep, but my mind started ... Usually when this happens, I just turn on the television and I fall back to sleep. But this morning was different. I turned on the t.v. and this is what I saw. 

I couldn't read the small print, so damn if I didn't have to get out of bed to read it. Then it hit me. Comcast had been sending letters warning me that this was "probably" going to happen. I thought it was a marketing ploy, like the ones they send every other day to try to entice me into something called Xfinity. All I want is basic cable. Nothing fancy. So now I was angry because I knew this would involve calling the company...you know. 


Now I was really awake. What was I going to do? Fortunately, I had a book that a friend loaned me, within arms reach. For an hour or so, I read the book. I don't know why, I've read this book before and I know what 's going to happen. The author writes about South Carolina and the islands between Litchfield and Charleston. I was already several chapters into the book before I realized that just maybe I've read this book before. Just to make sure, I continued reading, and now I'm sure I've read it. I can't stop now. If you're laughing, thinking how stupid I am, I ask you, "How many times have you watched The Miracle on 34th Street? or Where The Boys Are? or Gone With The Wind?" I rest my case. 


Let's see. So far I woke up three hours early, the t.v. doesn't work and I'm reading a book that I've already read. Things were grim until I remembered that I had a chocolate croissant waiting for me! That and coke would really perk things up. So I scampered downstairs, grabbed the pastry, poured a juice glass of coke, plopped on the sofa and turned on the tube. The thought did cross my mind to fix Tom's breakfast, but heck, he loves Sugar Corn Pops, and who was I to ruin his morning? So I stayed on the sofa, but at least, I did turn on Fox so he could get the conservative point of view of the day's happenings. He loves Fox, or is it Gretchen?


Well one thing led to another. Tom left for work, Good Morning America came on, I cat-napped, Kelly came on, I cat-napped and then gave up and decided to get some things done. The internet was calling, so I checked my emails, read several blogs, wrote an email to Cynthia, started writing my blog, and was interrupted by a handsome Salvadorian named Elmer who was coming to pick up a check for the sprinklers that he installed in November. When he came a few minutes ago, I asked him why he didn't come in January to get the check, and he said he was in Salvador. It seems that he is married and his young, 21 year old, wife lives there and he visits several times a year. Elmer is 37. There's more but I'll stop now. 


I'm sure things will get better. I'm going to Pike's Nursery where I'm going to try to convince them to give me yesterday's deal on a Japanese Maple tree. I've got to learn to read the ENTIRE ad and not just the large print. It seems that they are going to begin giving daily deals and the tree was yesterday's. Keep your fingers crossed. Things have go to get better. Now. 

Pressure

It appears that absolutely everyone in the blogisphere is posting images of beautiful flowers growing in their yards...ahem...Holly. Not being able to sustain all of this pressure on my shoulders, I decided to venture into my backyard. I haven't really stepped in the backyard since maybe November. Honest. 


The Bradford Pear Trees are beginning to lose their blossoms, so I thought I had better shoot them first. I'm also playing around with some actions, so the blue in one of the images is a result of my processing...as if you couldn't figure that out!

I think tomorrow I'll shoot azaleas. Stay tuned...

The Ohio River

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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.