Photos Before Photo Day

Nothing's easy in this world. For example: we (as in she as in Cuppa) put a cutesy dress on Nikki Dee for picture day at Daycare. Of course, we wanted to take our own picture because we didn't know if they'd actually get to her class that day.

But Zach wanted to be in the frame too. And they both wanted to see the picture before we had snapped it. They kept coming after us, and nothing could stem the tide until my lateral thinking, problem solving kinda gal came up with the solution: plant them on chairs.



I know I'm supposed to be doing a picture per day, or something to that effect, but I do find it difficult to stop at one. So, forgive me for these next two if you will, for I am a fairly proud grampa. I've been hiding it well, but I thought it was time to announce that fact. Ha ha.

There It Is!

Shortly after I hit Publish for yesterday's post, I turned around and saw this box on my bookshelf.



A light went on inside my foggy brain.

Sure enough the slide adapter was in the box: the box which was in plain view all the while that I was searching high and low for the holder. But, you see, I was looking for something black, which is what the slide holder is. In my locked-down state of mind, I wasn't looking for a hunk of cardboard.

I do this all the time. I will look for something with a picture in my mind, and if the object does not look like that mental picture, I will likely not see it. It could be as simple as looking for a plastic container, of a food item, say. If I am looking for red but it happens to be green, I will likely pass ineptly over it.

Is it because men are biologically disposed to be hunters? I've never hunted and never wish to, but I would imagine that one would be quite honed in on the quarry and not be stopping to check out the local plant life. I mean to say, if the hunter wasn't focussed, he would likely starve.

Meanwhile, female gatherers, would have been looking around for whatever the environment had to offer. They would have needed to be alert to all possibilities: for whatever food or useful material might be present.

That's my excuse for never being able to find anything. Does it get me off the hook (nod head), or am I simply not the sharpest knife in the drawer (shake head side to side please)?

Some Days Nothing is Easy

For me, with my plethora of photos, the regular posting of pictures should be easy. Right?

Some days, nothing is easy.

To wit: once again, I awoke at 4:00 AM after 4 hours sleep. (I'm getting tired of this trend, and I'm getting tired — period!) After trying my best to fall back asleep and losing the battle, I got up an hour later and began to putter: made myself some coffee; enjoyed two of Cuppa's baked-yesterday muffins; and, showered. Then, I decided to scan some slides that I had looked at yesterday morning (also at an unearthly hour) from days long past. It should be easy with my fairly new scanner, purchased for just such a task.

Right?

Wrong!

Do you think I could find the attachment for scanning slides? Not in your life! (I'll ask Cuppa to look for it when she gets up, and she'll doubtless find it within seconds and shake her head at me over my male ineptitude.)

Until such a time as the lost is found, I thought of this photo which I took a few months ago and knew that I hadn't posted anywhere: just a dead tree, viewable from the kids' backyard. It was March, so they all look a little dead in the photo, but the smaller ones are well-leaved now.



Durned if I couldn't get to it from Adobe Bridge: my picture folder was hiding from Bridge. Because of the format of the photo, I couldn't see it any other way, so I was flummoxed for quite awhile. Eventually, I was able to open it by hook and by crook, but it wasn't easy, and it wasn't the right way., and if I had had any hair remaining on the top of my scalp, I would have pulled it out in my vexation.

Anyway, it's just a dead tree, but it looks quite lovely as it stands there with its bare branches: lovelier than you would think from the photo.

There's beauty all around if we are ready to perceive it.

However, I'm sure I could see and enjoy the beauty of creation better if I could sleep for perhaps five hours instead of just four. Six would be really good, and so help me, I'll never complain about " just seven" again.