I'm Baaaaaaaaccccckkkkkk..........

Whew .... vacation is EXHAUSTING!

I won't bore you with the blow-by-blow of every single thing we did in our three days (grumble, grumble, grumble) at the beach.

I will tell you, however, that taking my precious road bike was perhaps the BEST decision I ever made. Well, maybe not EVER. But at least the best one pertaining to this particular vacation.

Hubby and I have inexpensive little mountain bikes that we take with us on most RV trips. I don't do much mountain biking; the last time I tried, the trail nearest our house kicked. my. butt. But my road bike isn't good for riding around rugged campgrounds and on trails and sand, so I usually leave it at home. Hubby will RELUCTANTLY ride the mountain bikes around a campground, but he is afraid he can't ride as far or as fast as I do, so he makes excuses not to ride. The mountain bikes never left the RV rack this time.

This time I had looked at the map, though, and I realized there was a pretty nice road to and from the state park that should have only light traffic on it. I wish I could have made an entire day of riding, but I pictured Hubby sitting back at the RV pouting and missing me (more likely pouting just because I was enjoying myself), so I only rode 30 miles. I rode 15 miles out, turned around on a dime in the middle of a road, and headed back.

It was my favorite kind of ride. There was a headwind going out (there's ALWAYS wind at the beach, I reminded myself), but that turned into a sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeet tailwind coming back. I rode part of the way on a nice little bike path, and coming back I nearly blew an entire family off the path as I passed them.

This is not what I usually see from my bike. Attempting the Rozmo Method of Bicycle Photography, I snapped this WHILE I was riding. I am a professional; do not try this at home.

Here is a shot of the nice bike path. On a different stretch it actually had little white lines painted on it.

Some obligatory shots of the beach and all things beachy. (Shouldn't use the word "Beachy." I'm a little mad at him after last night's performance against the Rockies.)

The nice thing about staying at a state park was the fact that it was not crowded. Well, the campground was a little crowded, with campsites much closer together than we're used to, but the beach itself was pleasantly uncrowded.

We saw something I've never seen before, at least not live and in person. We saw actual dolphins surfacing (stop laughing at me, please), and late in the day there were a couple of them jumping out of the water, clearly showing off.

The following pictures are hereby offered into evidence as proof that National Geographic will NOT be calling me anytime soon. Note my expertise at photographing dolphins. (Or are they porpoises? I'm not sure what the difference is.) If you squint, turn your head sideways, use your imagination and perhaps a Sharpie, you MIGHT just be able to make out a faint dolphin tail. Or the splash he or she left behind.

And now if you don't mind, I think I'll go drink the two mini-bottles of wine I had left over and drown my sorrows at being such an awful nature photographer. Photographer of nature. Whatever.

Right after I change my desktop background to this.

But I Don't Even HAVE Actions!.........

I love photography. I really, really do.

I just don't understand it.

I know a good picture when I see it, and occasionally I even wind up taking a good photograph myself. But it's mostly accidental.

I have a very nice, very big, very expensive digital camera that I bought for myself when I finished my doctorate. (You wouldn't believe how many purchases were justified by the completion of that particular dissertation.)

And most of the time this very nice, very big, very expensive digital camera is set on "auto".

I should be ashamed to admit that. I AM ashamed to admit that.

Some of my favorite bloggers are people who probably don't know I exist, like Pioneer Woman (for God's sake, is there anything she CAN'T do?), a blogger who posts beautiful pictures from Alaska, and Bush Babe, who shares Australian life and culture with her readers. It was actually Bush Babe who prompted this particular post.

Their photography is wonderful, and they talk frequently about things like aperture, depth of field, light meters, texture, saturation, layers, and other things that I have not been able to get my head around.

And they talk about actions.

I know on some level that actions are things you do to digital photographs using Photoshop. I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't even know if they're talking about the very nice, very big, very expensive Photoshop, or the maybe-I-can-afford-this-if-I-stop-ordering-yarn-online-every-week Photoshop Elements.

Because of the fact that even if I take an online course (like I want to), I might not be any better at photography than I was scuba diving, I am no way in Hell going to reluctant to fork over the $700 or so that the real Photoshop costs. But the snob in me doesn't want to settle for Photoshop Elements if these other folks are using the real thing.

Pioneer Woman even has her own set of actions. Did she make them up? Is she going to sell them worldwide and go on a tour for that TOO? COULD SHE PLEASE JUST SUCK AT ONE THING?

I want to take some pretty pictures. And have a bazillion followers on my blog.

Mostly I just want actions.

The Chimneys.....

I spent the afternoon at the golf course with Hubby ..... and I didn't even have to pick up a club. It was actually HIS suggestion that I come ride in the cart with him. To be honest, he suggested it LAST week, and I'm pretty sure he was under the influence when he said it. But on the day I was originally supposed to go, one of his golfing buddies whom I. Can. Not. Stand. was playing, so I declined and spent the afternoon in the pool.

Although he has been playing at the same golf course for about 5-6 years, and I have often been there, both in a vehicle AND on my bicycle (it sits at the top of the most God-awful hill you have ever seen - one of my goals in life is to be able to ride to the top of that hill without standing up), I had never seen the course.

It is absolutely beautiful. Most golf courses are, but this one is especially so. It has lots of wooded areas, hills and valleys, and gorgeous rock walls that the builder of the golf course laid by hand himself. Well, some of them are so big that he had to use a front-end loader, but he still PLACED them himself.

The course is called The Chimneys, and he also constructed a couple of rock chimneys on the course. If it were miniature golf, you'd have to hit through one of them into the clown's mouth. But it isn't so you don't.

I asked Hubby if the course had been named before or after he built those chimneys. He told me there was an old, REAL chimney standing along one of the holes, apparently a leftover from an old home place.

It was breath-taking. At least to me. But my breath is pretty cheap.

That's when I realized I'd forgotten my camera.

I took a picture with my Blackberry, but its battery is dead. Update: Picture uploaded above.

I guess I'm not a real photographer.

There was another old chimney (thanks for asking, but I DON'T know why I have a thing for chimneys) on my route to school, and I kept telling myself I was going to stop one morning and take a picture of that chimney at sunrise. But either I forgot the camera, or it was misty, or the sun wouldn't come up at the right time (damn that sun), or I didn't have time, or I thought up another excuse just so I wouldn't look stupid standing on the side of the road taking a picture of a lone chimney standing in a pasture.

Then one day on my way to school I realized the chimney that has fascinated me so was a pile of bricks.

Sigh.

I guess I'm not a real photographer.

Photographing Children.....

I feel compelled, driven, forced to take pictures of other people's children.

But I always feel that I must do it surreptitiously, because these strangers who are the parents of the aforementioned children might think I'm some kind of stalker or something.

So I focus on something way out in the ocean, and then when I think the parents might not notice, I zoom in on the kids and snap their pictures.

I don't want grown-ups in the pictures messing things up, so it gets a little dicey sometimes to get a good snapshot of the kid alone. Because what kind of parent takes a kid to the beach and then lets go of his/her hand for even a split second?

All this is to excuse whatever flaws you find in the pictures below. Yeah, that's it ..... otherwise these would have been professional-looking journalistic statements of my prowess as a photographer.

Although I am also pretty good at eavesdropping and know the real names of some of these munchkins, I am going to change their names just in case someone happens across this blog (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) who might know one of them.

Tyne

Hello, I'm Tyne. No, I don't know why my parents names me something that is part of a fork. My parents will put me in gymnastics and pay for years of piano lessons, but I will drop out of college with only 3 credits remaining and become a jewelry engraver. I will spend my evenings walking people's dogs and watering their plants while they are on vacation. I will be the one at family reunions who always brings macaroni and cheese and causes family arguments without meaning to.

Lisette


My name is Lisette. I will graduate from the drama department at USC with the assurances of all my teachers that I will go on to do great things. I will move to New York to get my big break, and I will become a tour guide to support myself while I wait for casting calls. Or whatever you call them. I will never learn how the subway system works in NYC, and I will develop a phobia that renders me incapable of using elevators or escalators.

Penelope


I'm Penelope. I will graduate with a degree in Criminal Justice, and my parents will beam as they anticipate my acceptance to law school. Imagine their surprise when I decide instead to become a journalist embedded with the 82nd Airborne and parachute into Afghanistan, where the war on terror/search for Osama Bin Laden will still be going on. I will collect Barbie dolls from all over the world and send them home to my parents, who will let the foster children they have taken into their home play with them and cut their hair.

Isabella


My name is Isabella. I am going to become a teacher of special-needs children. I will marry a policeman, but we will be unable to have children of our own. We will instead live on a small farm and raise alpacas.

Rhoda

I'm Rhoda. I will start out my career as a costume designer, creating elaborate pieces for shows in Las Vegas, London, and Paris. I will achieve fame and fortune, but life in the fast lane will get to be too much. The constant recognition, the inability to go anywhere without being hounded by paparrazzi, the pressure of being expected to constantly produce new and exciting designs, will wear me down. I will realize that I can achieve anonymity by becoming a professional mascot. I will never understand the infield fly rule, nor will I be able to discuss the pros and cons of the spread offense. And don't even get me started on why the last two minutes of a basketball game can go on for-freakin-ever. I will write and illustrate a children's book and go broke trying to self-publish it.

Merrill


My name is Merrill. My parents will put me in tee ball and peewee football as soon as I can hold my head up straight while wearing a helmet. I will be the starting quarterback for my high school team, but I will suck at baseball because I refuse to sacrifice. Ever. During college I will take a ballet class because it is the only course open on Mondays and Wednesdays at 2:00 PM, and I will discover my true calling. I will go on to dance with a major company, although NOT as a principal dancer, but it will cause ..... problems ..... with me and my dad. I will marry a principal dancer in a different company, and we will spend the rest of our lives trying to coordinate baby-sitters and just trying to see each other once in a while.

Cameron


I am Cameron. I will enter the military upon graduating from high school, where I will earn a pilot's license. I will qualify to fly commercial airliners, but I will get a job shuttling high-profile golf players to their tournaments. My mother will be disappointed that she cannot jetset off to Dubai courtesy of her pilot son. In my spare time I will paint graffiti on the sides of railcars.

Astrid


My name is Astrid. Not Asteroid, Astrid. I will graduate from high school with decent grades, but my family will be unable to pay for college. I will hide my pain and embarrassment by making jokes, and I will be small potatoes on the stand-up comic circuit. I will never make an appearance on David Letterman, and I will be booed out of Branson, Missouri when I make a joke about Dolly Parton. My sister will be a professional tennis player and will refuse to admit that she knows me.

I'm not usually into bugs...

....but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to take pictures of this guy when I got to school on Friday. She/he was attached to our back door, and I thought the web was beautiful. Someone at school said it was a writing spider, and if she/he wrote your name, you would die. I fully expect to die anyway, but if that thing comes up with MY name, that's one intelligent spider. I wish I had had my big camera with me, but the pocket-sized Canon was all I had at the time. And it was overcast as well.




I am also on a kick of taking pictures of the moon as it comes up between two trees right next to our neighbors' house. But if I open the aperture enough or keep the shutter open long enough, naturally it comes out blurry. (And I have now officially exhausted my knowledge of photography.) So tonight I stopped at Best Buy and used my Rewards Zone certificates to purchase a tripod. Unfortunately, I'll have to stay up until dark to see if I can get a decent picture.

I liked this shot even if it was blurry. It has sort of an Edgar Allan Poe feel to it I think.