Two more to go. We have finished the pie, and are almost tired of turkey. We never get tired of jalapeno stuffing, but since it was just for us this year I didn’t hold back with the peppers, and after three days our taste buds are burnt off.

I’ve been working on more images from Venice. I put three of them up in the shop, but this one is probably not going up there. I really like the sky, but I have to crop too much off the bottom in order to lose the souvenir vendors and the tourist couple in baggy shorts and sandals who are just visible in the bottom corner. I love the lights though, if you get it right, shooting at that time of the evening is amazing.

*Newsworthy Update*

I just saw a story on the CNN site that said Venice was flooded this morning with 5 feet of water. So St. Mark’s Plaza was under water to just about where this photo is cropped. Strange that I would have a photo of that very spot on my site today, isn’t it? I seem to do that, get a place or a person in my mind continuously and find out later that something fairly important was going on just then. Curious.

*********

I got up early this morning to pay some bills, drink some coffee alone, and savor the quiet of a house where WWE Day of Reckoning is not going full volume in the living room. It was so peaceful that I decided to follow the advice of my web host and upgrade to the latest version of Wordpress. I read through the information, (not as well as I should have, it turns out) checked the recommended boxes, agreed to the policies, and clicked the install button. Seconds later the screen told me to go visit my new blog. My brand new blog. My brand new totally pristine…EMPTY(!!!!!!) blog. I sat there gobsmacked for several minutes, too stunned to even cuss. Then I decided I desperately needed a shower, and to scrub the bathroom, and to vacuum the whole house. (At least when I looked in the laundry room the Dyson hadn’t been replaced by a shiny new broom.)

After all that I came back, scrounged through my hard drive and discovered that I had somehow gone against my very nature and activated an automatic backup script, and there was a copy of all the pertinent files just waiting to be uploaded into the void.

I may have wept quietly for just a moment.

Through it all, I had the support of the big spotted dog, who watched me through my office window with a wise expression. She had faith that it would all be okay.

The spotted stuffed burrito dog was unconcerned.

You know how cartoon characters are forever chasing someone and stepping on a rake casually left lying on the lawn, which smacks them in face, and god, that is funny? The smackee stops short and their face crumples up like an accordion, and then they go right back to the chase?

In real life, when you walk across the patio minding your own business and the hoe your husband swore he put in the shed leaps out of the leaves and smacks you square in the face, you cry and cuss like Richard Pryor with a stubbed toe, and briefly consider calling a divorce lawyer. I staggered back inside to get some ice and reassure my kid that I was probably ok. He was so alarmed by the whole incident that he had put the tv on the History Channel and offered to unload the dishwasher.

When his dad got home he rushed outside to tell him what had happened (and probably to suggest that he take a moment to order some dinner and possibly jewelry). He apologized for leaving the tools outside and then said, “Was it funny?”. I just glared at him. “Well, do you think it might be funny tomorrow?”

It was funny (a little) the next day. Mainly because the damage was pretty light. I look like a plastic surgery patient a couple of weeks after the surgery, when they think they are all back to normal and go out shopping, but their face still looks puffy and lopsided to everyone else.

After thinking about it for a while, I actually sort of wished I a nice black eye and really swollen cheek, then when anyone asked what happened I could have said. “My husband’s ho smacked me in the face!” That would have been funny.

Let’s go to Venice!

I wrapped up the Tuscany project I was working on, but while I was digging around in my photographs, I kept finding all these shots of Venice that I’d pretty much forgotten about. So I have been working with these, and I am really happy with the way they are turning out. Here’s the first one.

Over the years I discovered that in any specialized retail environment there are two types of employees. My experience is mostly in the art supplies and photography category, but I have seen the same scenarios play out in music stores, bike shops, and computer stores. There are the folks that are interested, helpful and knowledgeable about their subject, who seem to exist solely to make your life easier. Then there are the ones who see a deep injustice in the fact that you, talentless hack that you are, are getting to spend your days taking pictures, or racing bikes or painting landscapes. Clearly they are more talented and knowledgeable than you will ever be, and it is a cruel twist of fate that reversed your roles.

Normally I deal with a very nice guy named Jack where I have my images printed. He is always happy to see me, interested in what I am having done, will happily help me solve a problem if I have one. Jack was not in yesterday.

“Hi, Is Jack in?”

“No.”

“Okay. What about Tammy.”

“No. I’m the only one here.”

“All right then. I need a print of this image. 12 x 16. It’s already cropped to size.”

“I can’t print a 12 x 16.”

“Sure you can. I get them all the time.”

“No. It’s 11 x 14 or 12 x 18.”

“Oh, I see. The paper is 12 x 18. Fine, print it on that size and I’ll trim it myself.”

“No. it has to be a 12 x 18 print. I’ll have to enlarge your image, and you are going lose 2 inches on the side. Which side do you want me to crop off? ”

“I don’t want you to crop off either side. I want you to print it just like it is.”

He stares at the image.

“Did you take this?”

“Yes I did.”

“Where?”

“Spain.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure? Yes, I’m sure.”

“It doesn’t look like Spain to me.”

Today I get to go to the post office, where I will probably get to convince a postal employee that I really do want to send this out of the country, and not just to say, California, or some other place that is far away but doesn’t require them to fill out a customs form.

Up to my bits in Tuscany. Well, in photos of Tuscany. I got a commission for scenes of Tuscany, and I am off digging through the archives. There are worse ways to spend your time. Along the way I created a tile for my buddy Lauri. She and her husband have a catering company called Once Upon A Time, and a retreat called Happily Ever After. They really do amazing things with food. Their recipes are fabulous, but then the way Lauri presents everything is just gorgeous. I’ve seen people just well up when they walk in and see their party all set up.

Now I just have to make about a hundred of these. Happy Birthday Lauri!

And our old vacuum finally laid down and died, so we bit the bullet and bought a Dyson. I can say the hype is true. I have been joyfully vacuuming the house like a mad woman, and showing off the horrifying amount of dust and dog hair in the chamber as though it were something to be proud of. The dogs are frankly terrified that soon I will decide to skip the floors and start vacuuming them instead.

Perhaps if I sedated them…

About a quarter of the way along the trail we hiked is the remnant of a cabin. Each time we pass it, I am struck by how remote it would have been when it was someone’s home.

Sometimes we like to go wander around other chunks of woods besides our own. Lucky for us just a few minutes away (close enough to bike, but too far to walk) there’s a huge chunk of woods that very nicely fits the bill. We went there yesterday because it was cloudy and 43 degrees, and we felt like reliving the summer in Scotland.

There are some roads, but mostly you are hiking along trails like this:

There were feathery looking trees.

This guy couldn’t be bothered to give us a second glance.

This sculpture was above a doorway in Glasgow that had been the telegraph office. There was another figure on the opposite side who was holding an urn and a bunch of grapes. And even though the other figure was exposing one breast, she didn’t look anything like as sultry as this one here who is fully clothed. My guess is that if the model for this sculpture and the artist weren’t already sleeping together, they were going to be shortly…

You don’t often see an expression like this captured in stone. Her expression is so lustful, and the fact that she seems to be wearing a barristers wig while the other figure isn’t just raises all sorts of questions for me. I’d love to find out who the sculptor was, and what was going on while this was under the chisel.

*Should be funny to see what search queries that title turns up.

Did you ever go to a really great concert, maybe party a little too hard, get to bed a couple of hours before your alarm went off, and the next morning you really felt like you should stay in bed and sleep it off, but you couldn’t miss out on reliving the whole night with your friends over breakfast? So you just stagger out the door feeling hungover and vaguely disoriented, but you wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You and your friends just grin at each other and feel kind of sorry for anyone who wasn’t there with you. That’s how I felt all day yesterday.

Back to work, just like Obama.

We are supposed to go to a benefit for a rehab program tonight. Don’t know how much more hope and renewal I can stand. My eyes are just now starting to unpuff.