Photo class

I'm spending my time this summer--when I'm not lounging and reading books--working through a photography course.  I'm about 2/3 of the way through.

It's covered such things so far as exposure, flash, lighting, composition, foreground, and leading lines, and soon it will move into post-processing.

Most exciting so far has been learning how to take night photos.

This one is my favorite of all.  I never knew how to do stuff like this before.

 

We also went to a picturesque lake last Sunday afternoon.

The turtles obligingly became portrait subjects the other day.

I dabbled with Photoshop for these but I look forward to maybe knowing a little bit what I'm doing once I do the next lessons.

Links from the bunny trail

Happy Friday!  Here's this week's click candy.


The Lizzie Bennet Diaries.  I had no idea this was a thing.  It's a web series, which is I guess the modern equivalent of a tv series?  But more interactive, if you're interested in that sort of thing.  If not, you can just binge watch all 100 episodes of this modern-day take on Pride and Prejudice.  Warning: not as suitable for children as the beloved Colin Firth version.





This quarantine-style "Hallelujah Chorus" is uplifting and creatively done.




I love the idea of these private dining greenhouses, pandemic or not.  The wait staff serves the food on long boards!  Sounds perfectly cozy, but with a lovely view.

The world's weirdest house is no longer for sale!  I had endless questions when this was on the market; now I have even more questions since it sold.  You could start a whole discussion group and not run out of things to comment on about this house.  Unassuming from the front, but woowee, keep clicking through those pictures.

This slow cooker tikka masala went straight into my recipe book.  It was so good and quite easy--crockpot and forget it, you know.

Happy weekend!

I babysat, Jason finished the stream, and Caleb had a birthday

Jackson, aka Whiskers

Birthday sand.

"I brought a casserole," I said, and then immediately added, "I'm such a middle-aged mom." 


"That's the best kind of mom!" they said.  "You're seasoned."

A frog that, amazingly, actually grew from the tadpole that Caleb brought home from our friends' pond, which now lives in our pond, built with much perseverance by Jason.

Also turtles that Jason Ryan brought from their lake--six turtles, which have dwindled to five after one succeeded in running away.  Forget all you've heard about turtles being slow.

They were astonished and thrilled that I brought dinner when I showed up to spend the day with little Whiskers.  You didn't have to do that.








I know I didn't, but I was delighted to pop a casserole in the oven with a baby on my other hip.  Why?  I think because it is so good to feel competent. 

Believe you me, I spent many years feeling domestically incompetent.  I bumbled my way through early marriage, first-time motherhood, second-time motherhood, the toddler years, diapers, breastfeeding, juggling multiple ages... Trying to figure out what to cook for dinner, only to burn it and cluelessly wonder what to do with the leftover bits that didn't go in the recipe.  Crying and/or panicking when my baby cried.  Being at a complete loss as to how to go grocery shopping.  Rushing to the hospital for harmless bumps and missing the signs of a life-threatening asthma attack.


That's not a good feeling.

All that's left of our runaway: the tragic trail to horrible freedom.

We've survived the toddler and preschool years, and it's been a while since I burned dinner, but I still feel incompetent about a vast number of things. 


Photography.


Navigation.


Technology.


Introducing myself.


Keeping the house clean.


Raising teenagers?!


Going to the DMV.


Thinking rationally about covid.

Accordingly, when presented with an opportunity to care for a baby and cook dinner--two feats that I realize only now that I've actually mastered--and that at cost of years of hard struggle--I accepted rejoicing.

Thus, my dears, however much the casserole meant to you after your first long day back at work after maternity leave (and I imagine it meant a lot, having been the recipient of many a casserole myself), as I contemplate the years of trial and failure and painfully incremental learning, resulting in today's ability to cheerfully whip up a dinner with a baby on one hip, I realize now and assure you the casserole means much more to me.