Take one look in my work bag or backseat of my car, and you’ll learn fast: Organizatin isn’t my strong suit.
I am, however, a problem solver. Today’s organizatin photo features froyo from the RV food court. I’d encountered a problem on my previous cup: Toppings that stayed at the top. As first-world as this sounds, it needed a solution. A dose of organizatin.
I found one, with careful planning.
I led with a swirled base of strawberry-vanilla froyo, but just a layer. I followed with scoops of Snickers and Butterfinger crumble, and topped that with a couple more swirls of froyo. I stopped to add M&Ms and Reeses’, then buried that below more strawberry/vanilla.
When I see something beautiful to photograph, before I can even find the stupid camera icon on my $20 Android, one of my girls will inevitably whip out an iPhone or iPod and say, “dad, I got this. Your phone camera sucks.”
I wish they were this way about laundry and dishes.
Today’s word, birth, wasn’t easy. I’m glad for that. Flowers, puppies and bacon? Too easy. Evoke thought, struggle. I wanted a shot of Marie’s first real training session with this crazy good team she made for the fall. A birth into something new, right?
On Sept. 22, 1989, Hurricane Hugo made landfall in Charleston, S.C., in Category 4 glory. When the storm reached Charlotte, 85 miles away, he still packed hurricane-strength winds. I woke up after 3 a.m. to find my cat, Cybill and turned on the radio.
(Side note: We had TVs back then.)
I stepped outside. The wind seemed to push and pull at once, the heavy smell of salt water all around. The sky glowed a menacing sea-green then yellow. Trees snapped and transformers blew to punctuate Hugo’s howling winds.
I drew where I shouldn’t have. Like, during church. I drew when I shouldn’t have. Like, during church. Or math. (In art class, I didn’t always draw. Go figure.) I drew a cartoon bird on a serving tray at a restaurant and the girls all tried to use that one.
Marie found these self-portraits just the other night while cleaning out the games and coloring books table. Perfect for today’s word, your art.
I’m not sure how horribly accurate these are, but that’s youthful me there, on the left, and grown-up me, there, on the right. (I have no nostrils, Grace points out, but a lifelike representation of details such as nose holes might prove distracting.)
She’s cool, too. She’s probably my favorite Millennial this side of Kelley O’Hara. I share a prison-cell-sized work desk with her. She gives me hell for drinking 37 cups of soda a day. Big trucks need lots of fuel.
“Is that … water?” she asked today, looking at my cup. “Is that … a SALAD?”
Yes, Sherlock. I filled my soda-stained cup with water, just this once. And it’s a federal case. Thing is, today’s word, water, had proved nearly as tricky as lips and bubbles, until my bout of healthiness.
I won’t call it stealing, or cheating. I’d waited all day for sunshine, and when it came, I was inside. I drove through angry storms from Mooresville to Charlotte, through flooded streets and below thunder-crackling skies.
I picked Elise and her friend up from the mall.
The sun shone through and my phone battery died. I told her about the challenge, and that I needed a shot of sunshine if she could manage one. She’s a creative photog herself, so I knew I was in good hands. She took Elise’s senior photos, in fact.