Uber-cute things


How cute is this? I received this the other day from a reader of my column who over the years of correspondence via email has become a friend. She recently became an official published writer-type person in her own right and I'm so proud! Go Jennifer!

Did you know?

That if you leave bait in the back of a van in 90 degree heat for three days it will smell like something died in there?


Ask me how I know? :)

Gone. In a snap.

I am replacing my beloved Cybershot DSC-P200 (may it rest in peace) because, as it turns out, cameras can't swim. Nor do they enjoy hot soapy baths. Go figure.

I, as it also turns out, am a moron. I had no idea but the proof is there. It comes out as soon as I relate how it happened that I dropped it (heck, who am I kidding? It was a homicide. That camera was pushed!)

The story goes like this So my camera was stored where it always is, on the shelf above the kitchen sink ... and, well, it just goes downhill (downsink?) from there. One wrong move and you are pulling your beloved digital camera from the depths of a sink full of hot, soapy water.

For the record: cameras do not like that. At all.

To add to the "how does she even manage to be walking around upright?" of it all, the camera was actually plugged into a charger at the time and when it went under, I instinctively reached into the water and pulled it out! It's a wonder I wasn't electrocuted. 

See? What'd I tell you? Moron! That's me.

Sigh. To some (rational) people a camera is a nice thing to have but certainly not a necessity by any means. They would replace it when - and if - they felt the need "someday."

I am not such a rational person. My camera is like an extension of myself. My third eye. I felt kind of light-headed and sick contemplating life without a camera. Head between the knees, breathe deeply, stay calm sort of sick.

My motto has long been If I don't have a picture of it - it didn't happen.

Bless you little DSC-P200. We had 3.5 great years together. May you rest in peace. Or pieces.

Having worked through the five stages of grief over it in near-record time, I'm off to Best Buy to throw myself on the mercy of some seventeen year old "sales associate" who will put me back in photographic form.

Happy Independence Day!

DSC01219 010 

Because nothing asserts your Independence like sporting THIS get-up without benefit of alcohol - or having lost a bet.