True confessions time. I am about to bare my soul in a manner of utter honesty. (As opposed to all the disingenuous soul-baring that’s happening out there?)
I. Do. Not. Like. Shopping.
Herein are the problems:
- I’m fundamentally miserly.
- I get tired easily.
- I’m a weird shape.
- My budget cannot sustain my tastes in…well… anything except wine apparently. Then, I’m your classic cheap date.
- NO ONE waits on me in a matter befitting my occasional willingness to spend $14.95 on shoes.
The universe has simply failed to arrange certain circumstances to suit me. This is why I should be in charge. So remember, Queen Goddess: Vote for Lori!
But a couple weeks ago, I bought something. (I ordered on-line, I didn’t have to actually endure a mall.) I bought….a Nikon Camera.
I’ve been saying that I wanted a really nice camera since I was 12 or 13. But the few times I had quality devices around me, I completely did not understand them. Half the time I couldn’t even get the shutter to release, and no matter how I begged, pleaded or threatened (you RELEASE your shutter, damnit, or you’ll find your precious film DANGLING FROM THE NEAREST TREE! ) the camera would not do what I wanted it to.
Fortunately, instruction books have evolved pretty seriously since then. Back then, the camera guide spoke in secret code that you’d need the Enigma machine to translate, because they pretty well assumed you already spoke Camera or you wouldn’t be standing there with anything but a Polaroid InstaMatic in your hands in the first bloody place.
But now there are Dummies Books!
So these shots are me playing around with prolonged exposures because I had just invested in a little tripod. And note how in the low light, you cannot see dust or dirt? Always thinkin’. That’s me.
It should be pointed out that I have carefully avoided including any photos that the cats wormed their way in. I had two reasons for doing this. 1) The cats are horrible prima-donna-attention-seekers, and they really can’t stay away from the camera to save them. It’s becoming pathological and I worry that if I don’t put a lid on this behavior that I’m going to come home one day and find a Yahoo news story about how one of them got arrested because they rode a moped around town while hopped up on un-cut catnip just so they could get chased by the Paparazzi. So I have to be careful to avoiding reinforcing this behavior and not upload pictures of them cam-hogging. And 2) Photos of Oblivious cats +Open flames= Visits by CPS (Cat Protection Services.) And really, I have enough on my plate.
So the plan here is to take lovely photos that I can decorate my home with. (There was also the thought when I started this blog a few weeks ago that if I was going to write about my home, my never-ending battle with dirt and dust, my family and my kids, then I should learn how to take pictures of all that because as lovely as stock photo sites are, your typical savvy reader was going to notice that the kids’ age, gender, size and ethnicity was changing with every shot.) But what I had to do to my living room so I could set up these shots rivals anything my three teenaged kids, or the backfield of your average NFL team, could do to it.
But I’m having fun with the camera, and true to the title of the post, I didn’t burn, flambé, scorch, sear or torch a thing.
Not even one, little whisker on one, little cat.
This post linked to Sweet Shot Tuesday.