Savvy Viewers

We are such experts at looking these days. We recognize immediately techniques like photoshop, HDR,over-cooking, monochrome, etc.

I use the tools to achieve an affect that an otherwise straight photo would not achieve. Seems some are suspicious of manipulation and have to ask, how was it done? What camera? Etc. That bothers me. They are focused on technique and not the affect or mood. 

I could post the same straight photo and guarantee it would garner little if any response.

The trick is to up the technique to a level where it does not get in the way. Difficult when working with a iPhone, all thumbs, free apps.

Huddle Up

Melanie, Jordon and I went to the Huddle House for breakfast. French Toast for me, steak for Jordon, egg, sausage for Mel.

Then to GNC for Jordon. Home. Trying clean the algae green pool. Leaves. Contemplating tree cutting. Meme came over for to spend evening. Wait for UK to play basketball. Strewing yet over FB and church friends silence. Aurelia poems, well, seems folks must think I'm writing them. Really wonder if anyone even reads titles and such. I post and immediate like tells me either you just liked to be liking or just looked at picture. Probably both. And too, guess I need to keep putting my name on photos. One asked if I took a shot. Again, an affront to me. How often have I ever posted some other persons shot? Heesh Whizard!

Hike

Spent two days early at Alligator. Some deer, few birds. After that elusive light and look. Resort to manual exposure. Down to iphone6, canon s110 and maybe the Nikon d3100 with 18-200 and 180mm in a waist bag. Need to get back deeper in cypress with kayak. I see the Marcellino photographer from down south came up and found the light and look. 

Gallery

Two days at the Gallery. No customers. Earlier I did sell a 12.99 print and a few notecards. Art done cheaply. I switched out most of the current work. Always attempting to guess what sells. The 12.99 i think was of our chickens.

Like Johnny Bullard said, who wants note cards of local scenes, said to be marketable, it has to be recognizable. In other words, not really artistic or creative.

Surfing on air

We are skipping Christmas this year. With Melanie gone, the home is a house. The snowmen she so likes remain in the shed. The snowman tree stored. When Landon was little we would play the Snowman VHS over and over. All these memories on top of the sorrows do not lift me enough to set the snowmen up.

I pray next year changes.

Again and again

How many times does a person fall? The amount of the leaves alloted to us in our yards? I get on track, get anger and issues under some simmering, and something else boils up and over. So I sit and stew, another leaf falls in the pool.

Left Field

I did not want to play baseball. I was afraid of fast balls. My Uncle William Clark, a semi pro ball player would visit us summers, pitching fast balls to me, stinging my palm, busting my lip. When we moved to Kentucky in my fifth grade year, that summer, my friends all played baseball. I wanted no part of it. There was a tall, black pitcher on the Reds named Sam I feared to face, another William Clark. But the boys of Wilmore talked me into it, telling coach to pick me, and so I became a Little League Cub. Being a leftie I wound up in left field, which suited me, far from the action as possible. I was a terrible batter with an .097 average. I cringed when the announcer made that known to all. I did all I knew not to play, but despite my lack of batting skills, I was moved to first base, another good position for a left hander. Now I was part of the action on nearly every play. I even had my dad buy me a Ted Williams first baseman mitt at Sears. I did ok, making few errors. Still I persisted in trying not to face the fast balls. I told my dad the coach cussed. My dad to my embarrassment confronted the coach about it. I never tried that tactic again! What the "heck" was I thinking?

It was that same evening we faced the Reds and their ebony fast baller Sam. I could hear my dad cheering. We were behind. We had two on base. I nervously came up 9th in the order. And there went that announcer, "batting .097, first baseman John Stokes." I did not expect anything different to improve on that fact. All other at bats were strike outs. Sam wound up with two strikes and the former cursing Coach gave me the go ahead to swing. I closed my eyes and swung, hitting to my amazement a ground ball between first and second. It got past the infield. With my running speed I made it to second, the center fielder dropped the ball. With two RBI's, the third base coach motioned me on. I rounded third, the ball was dropped again, he motioned me home. By the time the short stop gained control over the hot potato, I had made it home. My only home run! My only hit for that matter.

It was a score keepers nightmare to plot. We won the game, beating  the lip busting Sam and the Reds. I still have the mitt. One home run, two RBI's, improved on that .097 average.

Damn he was a good coach.

Journey Lost

Today I put in to delete the Lost in Florida and Journey with John Stokes pages on Facebook. It was a little viewed, little commented on page. I do not understand the reasons, I felt the content worthy, I suppose it wasn't.

So in 14 days from today they will go away. I keep the John Clare poetry page because I've long since given up on anyone showing interest in it, save for about 6 people. Meme Clara page gets interest because my mom is more interesting than all. 

Party party

Secular Christmas parties are the absolute worst. Rotund ladies in screaming to burst skinny dresses, dancing to some foreign drum, all too familiar to the clubbers, as we the out of touch sit back amused with the scene. Such was the hospital party at the Country Club last evening. 

It will be a marked contrast tonight as we attend our Christ's Felliwship "party" at Aaron's. We are doing the white elephant gift thing though, which I really dislike.

CC

Callie Curtis the old outside cat has nice green eyes. She is hard to photograph. skittish. Soon after this, she jumped off the lawn chair. 

2:57

Sandhill group silently flew over at 2:57. I only had the iPhone6 in the back yard. Quickly zoomed and got 6. 

Still too Soon

Too soon to return. I logged in briefly to see how many resoonded to the Robert Jones video. Only two. Again, that disappointing frustration. I deleted the link and logged out. It's futile. I am not ready to return with the anger still seated.

When the product you offer in retail is inferior, out of style or not selling, you have to take measures to unload it, to make room for something that will. You try and move it to a high traffic area, you dress it up, you mark it down, and hope it sells. I recall how joyful we would be when another store would take our 144 dog dynasty tees, selling off the shelf in their market. And so I seek a tee that will sell in my market. I have yet to find it.