tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37918625321027806342024-03-14T03:45:11.954-05:00Lee's little corner of the interwebzRandom adventures through my life... in all their glory and splendor.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-52548481248488593482015-10-21T16:56:00.002-05:002015-10-21T16:56:29.085-05:00The only barrier here, is that ridiculous post in your mouth<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Hi, I’d
like a #3”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Kwambow?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Yes”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Fwyz, zouq,
oh shallid?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“What’s the
soup today?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Queem off
bwa-sha-wee”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“That sounds
good”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Anyshing
elps?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“No that’s
it.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Fow
heroshugo?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“For here”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Shattilbee
sheshen shirdy fide”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Here’s my
card”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Dan
Too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hasha nysh day!”</div>
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“Thanks you
too!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I may not be
a particularly educated man, but I am pleasantly fluent in Just-Got-My-Tongue-Pierced-ese
</div>
133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-55041382992559488192015-10-09T16:50:00.000-05:002015-10-09T16:54:12.219-05:00I'm not one to talk, but...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjBr5n3d_qa6x1zCcBhaFlG-B2PzGiNyJ0Szh9di-6FPhmH2dwE5S5XReyHVUzeiFCF_E0vCYiZWlLo4zh3Draze45jJfD7CQ1Iw1rH2g3vNIpDks7VnI8mgPHWRjENxIGhkthVK7k0g/s1600/peaceful-backgrounds-04b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjBr5n3d_qa6x1zCcBhaFlG-B2PzGiNyJ0Szh9di-6FPhmH2dwE5S5XReyHVUzeiFCF_E0vCYiZWlLo4zh3Draze45jJfD7CQ1Iw1rH2g3vNIpDks7VnI8mgPHWRjENxIGhkthVK7k0g/s320/peaceful-backgrounds-04b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I was texting a friend yesterday and as I pecked out, "Not to sound like a dick, but..." I had to stop. I knew, unequivocally, that what I was about to write was so dickish that my fingers had already tried to passive aggressively send out a warning. I couldn't even convince *myself* that what I was about to type wasn't petty and cruel, and yet somehow announcing my intention was supposed to mitigate that I was indeed, about to write something only a dick would write? It was ridiculous. I was left staring at my phone with an uncomfortable choice. Either I shut up and delete, or I own up to it and be an unapologetic dick. You know, like a real dick. Normally this is a no-brainer for a peacenik like me, but in this particular case I really wanted to say it. I mean, REALLY. I wanted to jump on my elephant of self-righteous indignation and charge straight down off the moral high ground and trample away leaving nothing but dropped jaws and squashed egos underfoot! One pointed text and I would zero out my good Karma, but Holy Hand Grenade, I would be vindicated! Just. Hit. Send. Be that guy. Be a dick.<br />
<br />
*sigh*<br />
<br />
For some of us, it just isn't that simple. I can't feign innocence about my intentions once I'm aware of them. This particular conviction does me no good at the poker table, but has generally served me well in life. So I took a couple deep breaths, deleted my text, and started over putting more of a playful "Duck-Duck-Goose" slant on it than the "Knock-Knock-Shotgun" I feeling.<br />
<br />
I wish more people would take a moment to think about their actions before doing them. Then we would all be far superior to the real dicks out there.<br />
<br />
Just like me.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-69401046143106656272011-09-22T20:04:00.004-05:002011-09-22T20:36:56.397-05:00How To Survive on StageSo a friend said to me the other day, "I don't know how you get up in front of people and sing like that." I took that as a compliment, though in retrospect might not have been... And deep down, I know she was just making conversation, but because I take stuff like that as a literal challenge, I figured I'd share my "secrets to success" with the rest of the world. Maybe its more like, "failing without destroying your ego" but I'll let you make the call.<br /><br />Ok, so here's my formula for public performance:<br />1) Practice as much as you can so then you know deep down that even if you suck in front of everyone, you can tell yourself you *know* you *could* have done a great job.<br />2) Know that everyone out there wants you to succeed. Nobody wants to hear you fail, so they will forgive what you're doing wrong, and listen more for what you're doing right. People will remember the 2 verses you did right, not the one you monkey'ed up if you take it in stride. (Judged events and angry drunks are different. I recommend avoiding both.)<br />3) Perform for people a lot. Eventually it won't throw you off as much because you'll have said every possible stupid thing under the sun. After a while doing dumb stuff into a mic won't phase you as much and you might even start to enjoy it. Yes, even *I* have said stuff I regretted. No, I won't tell you what I said. You had to be there, and I'm glad you weren't. Wait until next time, and yes, there will be a next time.<br />4) People don't care as much as you do about what you sound like. My inner critic and suck-meter are far more sensitive than most audiences. Yours probably is too.<br />5) You're never too 'seasoned' to psych yourself out. It still happens to me on occasion, usually in church. My kids think it's really funny to see my legs shaking. All you can do is get back on the horse. Next time will go better.<br />6) Make sure there's a next time.<br />7) Instructions are pretty simple. The execution is tricky.<br /><br />There is one more kind of anti-guideline caveat-thing, and that is simply to know when it's NOT your turn. Sometimes you should just take a bow. Play nice and give someone else the spotlight. I've been at a couple events lately where someone has asked me to play/sing spur of the moment. Sometimes this is fine, sometimes it isn't. I was at a house warming with work friends. My friends knew I played guitar, but the hosts didn't, nor did they ask me to play. I don't think that's an appropriate time to surprise people with you 'talents.' Also, I was at a wedding reception recently where the bride, after finishing singing a song herself, looked my way and pointed the mic at me. I appreciated the invite, but really, it was her moment and I'm not going to be the douchebag that tries to one-up the bride. And seriously, how would I follow that up, anyway? Here's some Nirvana unplugged I hope ya'll like!<br /><br />So that's it in a nutshell. Be yourself, but not so much of yourself that you look like a total idiot. Maybe next time I'll reduce the 7 points down to one.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-11101672330065538592011-09-14T14:51:00.005-05:002011-09-14T14:55:47.841-05:00Wait. Am I under what?So you know that mountain of paperwork you have to fill out when you go to a new doctor? I'm working my way through a 12 page "Getting to know you" evaluation and, I kid you not, the second to last question is: <br />"Are you currently under the influence?"<br />Seriously? They waited 12 pages to ask that? I'd think that would be kind of a page 1 question... you know, like "If Yes, then please come back and fill out the other 11 pages when you're sober."<br /><br />If it wasn't just a check box I'd love to put "No, but I was when I started."133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-75420023292121832442011-09-13T19:55:00.007-05:002011-09-13T21:52:19.939-05:00My secret weight loss formula REVEALEDSo, when you're built like half a man like I am, you get used to people using adjectives like 'thin' or 'skinny' or 'boney' to describe you. True story, I actually got called 'slight' the other day as if it were 'slightly' less of an insult. Slight? Really? What am I, a ballet dancer? At that point you might as well call me a 'lithe' or 'wispy' and get it over with.<br />Everyone assumes that I've always been this way. And granted, I never hit big guy status, but the truth is, 4 years ago I was up 25 pounds and well, any way you look at it, that's a decent sized bag of cat food to be carrying around your waist all the time.<br />So how did I do it? How did I become the sexy, lean, beast you see before you today? I can sum it up in two words:<br /><div style="text-align: center;">Stress. Out.<br /><br /></div>That's right, you too may be among the small percentage of people who actually lose weight under stress. Just like me! You just have to apply this simple formula to your current life style:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Anxiety = Loss of Appetite + Metabolic boost = Weight Loss<br /><br /></div>See? It's just that easy! You stress out. You're no longer hungry so you quit eating. AND with your accelerated metabolism, you'll be burning off the pounds while you lie awake all night!<br /><br />I don't just sell the system, I really believe in it. Let me tell you how it all worked for me. 3 years ago my fat ass was happily sitting on the couch dipping Fritos into a pint of Ben and Jerry's when my wife and I decided to try this program called, "Go to Ethiopia and come home with two children." In less than a week I was totally stressed and BAM! 10 pounds gone in 2 months! Then 2 years ago I lost my job and another 10 pounds! It really was amazing. And simple!<br /><br />And that's not all! It's practically free, there's no expensive equipment to buy, and you don't even have to change your exercise routine. Heck, you can probably even <span style="font-style: italic;">make </span>money by selling your bed, since you will be too worked up to use it anyway. And on the all stress program, you can eat whatever you feel like eating! Anything you can choke down is yours to keep! I've even lost weight after a night of binge drinking! Never mind the fact that I was completely dehydrated and that alcohol and caffeine amplify anxiety disorders. They also accelerate weight loss and that's why I drink Captain AND Coke! What's important is your weight, not your health, so it all still counts! It's remarkable!<br /><br />Oh, and it's a great conversation starter too. People will love to hear about how you are using just the pressure of daily life to drive your weight down. Women especially will find your story absolutely fascinating. Be sure to bring it up loudly and often for maximum effect on the babes.<br /><br />So try it now! Join the millions of people who have gone through sudden and catastrophic lifestyle changes and see if the all stress program is right for you!<br /><br />WARNING:<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Results are not typical. For most normal people walking this planet, anxiety and depression tend to cause weight *gain.* Stress and comfort eaters may not experience similar results. Symptoms of large amounts of stress include depression, blood pressure spikes, and long term damage to your internal organs. But hey, at least you'll be skinny, right? Please consult your doctor before changing your diet, exercise routine, or increasing stress levels. And talk to your local comedian if you are having trouble coming to grips with sarcasm on the internet.<br />Click <a href="http://www.livestrong.com/article/232465-stress-anxiety-weight-loss/">HERE</a> for more actual info.<br />On a side note, I've found that adding fries to a meal consistently adds half a pound the next morning. Like clockwork. Even for a slight guy.</span>133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-78179412345523405432011-09-12T10:37:00.003-05:002011-09-12T10:41:36.132-05:00Sun of a...Just for the record, I got sunburnt yesterday. Yes, that's right. Second week of Sept and "my summer tan" which was actually decent compared to other years, was rendered obsolete. <br />Being 'fair skinned' is so overrated.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-51894085940305240602011-09-06T17:23:00.004-05:002011-09-06T19:32:50.256-05:00All My Tears Be Washed AwayMark's this guy who, for whatever reason, loved to hear me play at The Brick. Considering I'm just a dude with a guitar who plays for an hour on the weekends, he made an incredible effort to come out and listen to me on a regular basis. He also continuously tipped generously even after we had established a friendship, which in my experience, is unheard of.<br />I heard an interview with Bono a long time ago where he said (in so many words) that the problem with Christian music is that Christians don't want to write about or listen to conflict. But in order to write a song or tell a story with a resolution, you need a conflict to resolve from. I still find this true. At least most churches don't mince words about it any more. The category is "Praise and Worship." See? No need to dwell on hardship, or problems, or pain, we'll just jump straight to praise and worship. There are exceptions to the rule, of course. Death, which Christians are supposed to celebrate on one level, is inherently conflicting. I think that's why I am drawn to the genre I oh-so-cleverly call 'Christian Death Songs.' There's a bunch that put happy tunes to fairly morbid topics, like "I'll Fly Away" or "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" that sound like a great time until you listen to the lyrics. And a couple that are appropriately somber. I think "Amazing Grace" nails the right tone with the right words. But there are even fewer that just admit that death sucks for everyone but the dead. The ones I'm familiar with take the viewpoint of the dead trying to reassure the living. I like those. I appreciate the conflict. Mark liked them too. He would joke with me about how I should do a two hour set of death and break-up songs while people would relax, enjoy their coffee, and then slit their wrists.<br /><br />I found out my friend Mark died of a heart attack this morning. I had seen him a week ago at karaoke and been in contact with him a couple times since then, but nothing connected. About noon today, I got a phone call asking me to sing at the funeral. Of course I said yes before I really thought through the logistics of it all, which honestly, it is probably much better that way. When I told Chris, she asked me what I would sing. Fortunately, I happen to know exactly which Christian Death Songs were his favorites. Choosing a song would be the easy part. Singing it will be the challenge. I called my friend Bruce who I would classify as an 'elder musician' to see if he had any advice on getting through funeral music. "Yes" he said, "Whatever you do, don't try to sing. You'll never make it. I've never made it. Find someone who isn't attached to the deceased to do the singing." We both laughed that nervous laughter you use when you're trying to wrap your mind around bad news, and hung up.<br />So I will miss my friend Mark. I will miss his encouraging smile. His attentiveness to my music. His randomly timed, yet poignant text messages (He drove a truck and would contact me at weird times from weirder places.) And his boldness to initiate conversations with an unintentionally aloof coffeehouse musician.<br /><br />Here are the lyrics to "All My Tears," one of Mark's most requested songs:<br /><br />When I go, don't cry for me<br />In my Father's arms I'll be<br />The wounds this world left on my soul<br />Will all be healed and I'll be whole.<br />Sun and moon will be replaced<br />With the light of Jesus' face<br />And I will not be ashamed<br />For my Savior knows my name.<br /><br />It don't matter where you bury me,<br />I'll be home and I'll be free.<br />It don't matter where I lay,<br />All my tears be washed away.<br /><br />Gold and silver blind the eye<br />Temporary riches lie<br />Come and eat from heaven's store,<br />Come and drink, and thirst no more<br /><br />It don't matter where you bury me<br />I'll be home and I'll be free<br />It don't matter where I lay<br />All my tears be washed away<br /><br />So, weep not for me my friends,<br />When my time below does end<br />For my life belongs to Him<br />Who will raise the dead again.<br /><br />It don't matter where you bury me,<br />I'll be home and I'll be free.<br />It don't matter where I lay,<br />All my tears be washed away.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-16792567301211586012011-09-01T19:17:00.004-05:002011-09-05T20:09:25.177-05:0039So I turned 39 yesterday and I gotta tell you... it's not so bad, or at the very least, it could be a lot worse. 38 was pretty good to me. Running the Rockford half marathon was probably the highlight. I ran 13 miles in 1 hr and 49 minutes, which was a once in a lifetime pace for me. Peshtigo white water rafting was a close second. Both were firsts that made me feel like I might actually be capable of surviving a catastrophe.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHTSE6zvvV2qvhwzoVXxmALFEkSYghBfrIPvUVsHdn8y700UJo2gxRAqHFd7MWLMXOZwm4ra5_1F5Q-bvE6OVibqGaG18l6qtYK-qOV6X4RYt3c4Wl4Rzkt29_pCk86ri_x08Xt2PoQfU/s1600/LGardner_Rockford_HalfMarathon_2011.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHTSE6zvvV2qvhwzoVXxmALFEkSYghBfrIPvUVsHdn8y700UJo2gxRAqHFd7MWLMXOZwm4ra5_1F5Q-bvE6OVibqGaG18l6qtYK-qOV6X4RYt3c4Wl4Rzkt29_pCk86ri_x08Xt2PoQfU/s320/LGardner_Rockford_HalfMarathon_2011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647555757847497026" border="0" /></a>Here's me running like I'm chased by zombies<br /></div><br />If I lump anything that's happened in the last week into 'My Extended Birthday,' then it's been a fantastic party. It started Friday night with karaoke in Belvidere, where I met up with Becky from work and her friends, who never fail to entertain. One of them is an amazing, room-goes-quiet, instant fan-club, singer. Under normal circumstances, that is awesome... however not so much when you have to follow her all night in the singing rotation. Then it kinda sucks and just becomes a big joke. Hey look at me! I'm the guy who is singing after the person you actually wanted to hear just finished! That's exactly why opening bands don't follow the headliners...<br />Saturday morning I got up and ran (thank you Fri night caffeine) and then went to sing at The Brick Cafe. It's interesting to hear what a night of my karaoke voice does to my coffee house voice the next morning. Sometimes it's great and adds some gravel, other times it destroys my upper range. It could go either way. Then Saturday night I ended up in Elgin at an OpenMike night with the old U46 bunch. Singing there was unusual because I think I sang 9 songs that night. 45 min at an open mike even after doing a set with Joan Jett, Brittany Spears, and Culture Club? Ridiculous. Did you not just hear me sing Culture Club?<br />Two days later I had lunch with Nez. Yesterday, Chris called me "El Jefe" (the chief) all morning, gave me a birthday wedgie (to make me feel like I was in grade school again? thx lol), then took me out for Thai. At work, Becky put a 90lb bag of Peanut M&M's on my desk and said, "Happy Birthday. That ought to keep you for a while." I'm not exactly sure what that means, but from what I can tell, it means I don't have to share. Then after soccer practice, I took the kids to DQ just to make sure they'd be sugared up and crabby when they got home.<br />Along with all this I somehow managed to finish up Season 1 of "Game of Thrones" which is worth watching, though I don't recommend it for everyone.<br /><br />So I guess what really made 39 special (I know, it should be 38 Special shouldn't it?) is that I got to sing a lot and hang out with a bunch of old friends, new friends, and family. It was just a great mix.<br />I don't want to wait a year to have a another week like this.<br /><br />9/5/2011 addendum<br />To make it even better, this weekend, I jammed with Marty Friday night, then Chris and I went to the wedding of an old U46 friend and got to sit at a table with other district people I haven't seen in a year. Then Sunday I played guitar at Wesley and hung out with the family in Elgin. It's really been the perfect week of friends and music.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-62698469998161887172011-08-05T08:18:00.001-05:002011-09-01T21:27:24.041-05:00Photo Challenge Days 26 - 30Day 26: Close up
<br />So Dad, Is this close enough for you?
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQ7UQvR03d4ZGcEM2IuulOZkfAmDuoZXNlB9nAZCxsvV0aEY5PVgTsaw5BPKprGIzouvccsN5Dh2bbfWaNMdfdAPwzCtthMid9WxqsDYD91TZnK4XHnPQvVAj33XsGadv-FCyH3M9QTw/s1600/Day+26+Close+Up+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQ7UQvR03d4ZGcEM2IuulOZkfAmDuoZXNlB9nAZCxsvV0aEY5PVgTsaw5BPKprGIzouvccsN5Dh2bbfWaNMdfdAPwzCtthMid9WxqsDYD91TZnK4XHnPQvVAj33XsGadv-FCyH3M9QTw/s400/Day+26+Close+Up+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636062183715582610" border="0" /></a>Day 27: From a Distance
<br />Kites on Mackinac Island
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Py-dWqOtfvMBpnauhW4iolTrYvlnRf1K7gBaj_suBWEtJQAbU-kSXjRxX29XSD7PXVJ2UAyRs60R9fnMzfiWoa61q8YwEk8ZiRfMziGWdFGFXS_1jHkmsicC932w7KHEhgIK51PyVOY/s1600/Day+27+From+A+Distance+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 321px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Py-dWqOtfvMBpnauhW4iolTrYvlnRf1K7gBaj_suBWEtJQAbU-kSXjRxX29XSD7PXVJ2UAyRs60R9fnMzfiWoa61q8YwEk8ZiRfMziGWdFGFXS_1jHkmsicC932w7KHEhgIK51PyVOY/s400/Day+27+From+A+Distance+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636062179041153314" border="0" /></a>Day 28: Flowers
<br />Flowers are easy to find in Michigan in July. I took a lot of flower shots but I like the near silhouette look in this one, just because it's different.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCucgxIC4r7qCSd_XjBHNu0Wu64uiRBy7n2hgYOZGycwQaDWKsVoTpNBT1XQ4sqemmHaOZDTr9cI9qG5yujugwu1lhFgDp6P0iIaYXWqI79pQy89SOnnBpLO3h3Toz57iltjfSy5BK9gg/s1600/Day+28+Flowers+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCucgxIC4r7qCSd_XjBHNu0Wu64uiRBy7n2hgYOZGycwQaDWKsVoTpNBT1XQ4sqemmHaOZDTr9cI9qG5yujugwu1lhFgDp6P0iIaYXWqI79pQy89SOnnBpLO3h3Toz57iltjfSy5BK9gg/s400/Day+28+Flowers+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636062169995767410" border="0" /></a>Day 29: Black and White
<br />Other than cropping, I really didn't mess with the other pictures much. This one, though, I had to play with the settings to get the football nice and dark.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBohk7ExBYOz4i_RVoe_vclpKfdLp3JjNB5MZBA7cNXaFzwX9-aoDKjEinCXMdlZenXkfyTWmX2QmTQksgLillPpagzXwmFH_rT0Xkdj1giIUAYru5j87MSTLhl-X5svU0wN0X7ursRuo/s1600/Day+29+Black+and+White+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBohk7ExBYOz4i_RVoe_vclpKfdLp3JjNB5MZBA7cNXaFzwX9-aoDKjEinCXMdlZenXkfyTWmX2QmTQksgLillPpagzXwmFH_rT0Xkdj1giIUAYru5j87MSTLhl-X5svU0wN0X7ursRuo/s400/Day+29+Black+and+White+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636062166125775010" border="0" /></a>Day 30: Self portrait
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRhsx_Q2yFg1-9Ds__Ba7DxqAa0xhDHJ7PAdVhXxx81Dwke68Lhfo6RmnZbvD1UnGSMhaz02H-tj7YvrdOXa7Peblv9WIM2fJXlLNB4G17dd693UYLH5QZy36BJjOjecMbYJQYCau6sw/s1600/Day+30+Self+Portrait+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRhsx_Q2yFg1-9Ds__Ba7DxqAa0xhDHJ7PAdVhXxx81Dwke68Lhfo6RmnZbvD1UnGSMhaz02H-tj7YvrdOXa7Peblv9WIM2fJXlLNB4G17dd693UYLH5QZy36BJjOjecMbYJQYCau6sw/s400/Day+30+Self+Portrait+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636062161873245026" border="0" /></a>I liked the idea starting and finishing the photo challenge with the same topic. Then, I guess in theory, you can see how much you've improved. In this case though, I really like my Day 1 picture of myself more than any of my final portraits. Now, maybe it's because I did it in 5 days and not the full 30 so my artistic eye didn't have as much time to develop. Or I'm photo snob now and I'm so hip I don't even like my own stuff any more. There is another lesson in this though, sometimes the first shot is the best. Many of my final choices were actually the first, most spontaneous shots. So I guess the moral is, when in doubt shoot it anyway.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-59863724197210202442011-08-04T08:16:00.000-05:002011-08-04T08:16:00.939-05:00Photo Challenge Days 21 - 25Day 21: Faceless self portrait<br />Ok so technically there is a face in this picture, but if you look in her eyes you'll see me.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpacvydjtCMza9xBvoY4KJlGBA1EAoxdW4jb9lGlC8jFy8FhVEZlvojVyRbm41vA4pZgtIq_e-XMBjwYC7y-vkcPgygc6LEaUmvvwMyqMttsCTPXDiAOkZvi7NmFIoYMoWgY3HG8rvVA/s1600/Day+21+Faceless+Self+Portrait+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpacvydjtCMza9xBvoY4KJlGBA1EAoxdW4jb9lGlC8jFy8FhVEZlvojVyRbm41vA4pZgtIq_e-XMBjwYC7y-vkcPgygc6LEaUmvvwMyqMttsCTPXDiAOkZvi7NmFIoYMoWgY3HG8rvVA/s400/Day+21+Faceless+Self+Portrait+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061724565870098" border="0" /></a>Day 22: Hands<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXd5QfCiSvI0dDRxVcaJuMezkEP9CmflEn2FPmU4mSwtyfit6jdh8wfdZA52xF8T_KKQ7CHHDsq3cq4W5XRi1ttsgk0XQI6qa_6ezcU11en0qFRp6rEG8a76Yi3IcS1UcuKPu_LrqEEyQ/s1600/Day+22+Hands+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXd5QfCiSvI0dDRxVcaJuMezkEP9CmflEn2FPmU4mSwtyfit6jdh8wfdZA52xF8T_KKQ7CHHDsq3cq4W5XRi1ttsgk0XQI6qa_6ezcU11en0qFRp6rEG8a76Yi3IcS1UcuKPu_LrqEEyQ/s400/Day+22+Hands+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061722680473730" border="0" /></a>Day 23: Lens Flare<br />I've never actually tried to get a lens flare, I've only gotten them on accident.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFin_Gd8TQbkkNTSrBoTZ_9X-AF9NdGgnA9YxsjH1XNaEZsmstCZQSlR7ppIZi1qAx578_F2Wn8UpA_xQVeOoOOr0xnfr0aD4QliSXk6kiu4dHK86oDcPMPtsHJ2iEAgW6ykI_7FPb_6U/s1600/Day+23+lensflare1+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFin_Gd8TQbkkNTSrBoTZ_9X-AF9NdGgnA9YxsjH1XNaEZsmstCZQSlR7ppIZi1qAx578_F2Wn8UpA_xQVeOoOOr0xnfr0aD4QliSXk6kiu4dHK86oDcPMPtsHJ2iEAgW6ykI_7FPb_6U/s400/Day+23+lensflare1+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061718769260146" border="0" /></a>Day 24: Animal<br />I did have some other 'successful' animal pics this week, but this one had the most personality even though it was fleeting.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwr_9NZ3BQhMP3Y7VLBMXVzX8-SmxmyJwhOut7Tsx_FVIGUHTez2f0iMNezXIqTxU3Grxk2-K54Mk3SxqY8e0KAr2wnJ0uuIHjNevB1jD-qDRnpVD2arrHIu_slIAgOHE3GOQ6zmBFdGY/s1600/Day+24+Animal+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwr_9NZ3BQhMP3Y7VLBMXVzX8-SmxmyJwhOut7Tsx_FVIGUHTez2f0iMNezXIqTxU3Grxk2-K54Mk3SxqY8e0KAr2wnJ0uuIHjNevB1jD-qDRnpVD2arrHIu_slIAgOHE3GOQ6zmBFdGY/s400/Day+24+Animal+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061712567767026" border="0" /></a>Day 25: Something Pink<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvWMm97-dg6gFhasGCgIjjZLyc0YUqiPRg2ZC97RH3K8S8Xfw5EEdI_i65dpJZ2lVIZzMDHPykjm9EuB8MfTmmVARbQnYWCXcfAgrgykxi3xeFZKSse1tOE4ZdRyDsj9QssKxng8mXZM/s1600/Day+25+Something+pink+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvWMm97-dg6gFhasGCgIjjZLyc0YUqiPRg2ZC97RH3K8S8Xfw5EEdI_i65dpJZ2lVIZzMDHPykjm9EuB8MfTmmVARbQnYWCXcfAgrgykxi3xeFZKSse1tOE4ZdRyDsj9QssKxng8mXZM/s400/Day+25+Something+pink+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061709947572034" border="0" /></a>133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-41528021319148808282011-08-03T08:14:00.001-05:002011-08-03T08:14:00.371-05:00Photo Challenge Days 16 - 20Day 16: Long Exposure<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGCkfYUxPE0hc22BxAuBtFun6fY6HAHPWKT1Uz09OGxx1wU_lyEx6zOZqqa1t-MIbRAdKG4s81X6i0vOs34uhdY6bCwFL5GYsXKCSafMyYjgEFwtLN5QK7cBmhD9QQOxJkjYobb5y9bY/s1600/Day+16+Long+Exposure+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGCkfYUxPE0hc22BxAuBtFun6fY6HAHPWKT1Uz09OGxx1wU_lyEx6zOZqqa1t-MIbRAdKG4s81X6i0vOs34uhdY6bCwFL5GYsXKCSafMyYjgEFwtLN5QK7cBmhD9QQOxJkjYobb5y9bY/s400/Day+16+Long+Exposure+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061262878099458" border="0" /></a><br />Day 17: Technology<br />My battle worn MP3 player... on a stump.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoz_CHf9VhxkQkHd_2jHQTf_VWwkXyJstYW5qXYdRLLpAAPG4d-BDVjZkLs80P2KVFRqxZrO5sw19qsNdf4td6v_3ir-edMyteEacc9NuRgBPYH1Lgfro0m6ojUkJFkOJOFxO1PKfFjUA/s1600/Day+17+Technology+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoz_CHf9VhxkQkHd_2jHQTf_VWwkXyJstYW5qXYdRLLpAAPG4d-BDVjZkLs80P2KVFRqxZrO5sw19qsNdf4td6v_3ir-edMyteEacc9NuRgBPYH1Lgfro0m6ojUkJFkOJOFxO1PKfFjUA/s400/Day+17+Technology+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061263540349410" border="0" /></a><br />Day 18: Shoes<br />It's easy as a photographer to end up with shoes in your shot. I thought it was more interesting to not make them the focus of the picture.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lFd8RBVs-d1rkh4WuVe0KyAobbX-hnRdBh2kzFzcugFtE63dPJ6yMXJSGBqbSuDqnU30hgnz8XKTeQntS34yMuscs3cMVabVFW612rX0AMR7ZjBokNmeS09q6FZ7ODjWmLKVINXrOds/s1600/Day+18+My+Shoes+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lFd8RBVs-d1rkh4WuVe0KyAobbX-hnRdBh2kzFzcugFtE63dPJ6yMXJSGBqbSuDqnU30hgnz8XKTeQntS34yMuscs3cMVabVFW612rX0AMR7ZjBokNmeS09q6FZ7ODjWmLKVINXrOds/s400/Day+18+My+Shoes+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061260252547826" border="0" /></a><br />Day 19: Something Orange<br />Chris thinks she looks like an Oompa Loompa and tried to dial the color back a bit, but this is how it left the camera. It looks vintage magazine-y to me. I shot it at sunset, so yeah, everything was orange and naturally over saturated.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTvo9hGGgMKLIB2YTAZq327BsU46-tatyw7xTN89GEafzotsxBobhi898iJNTza51YsMpGqbu9d5XSC_haSDsxRXFqFitXUZlG6AgLuPrt-y-I774VOyuMxUsmMNPK2D-rYqmHPOZij30/s1600/Day+19+Something+Orange2+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTvo9hGGgMKLIB2YTAZq327BsU46-tatyw7xTN89GEafzotsxBobhi898iJNTza51YsMpGqbu9d5XSC_haSDsxRXFqFitXUZlG6AgLuPrt-y-I774VOyuMxUsmMNPK2D-rYqmHPOZij30/s400/Day+19+Something+Orange2+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061249364446738" border="0" /></a>Day 20: Bokeh<br />Ok, I've never done bokeh before. You're supposed to have a bright, out of focus background that then becomes 'starry' in the picture. Of course, Chris did the old, "You do it like this..." *CLICK* and got a great bokeh shot on the first try. This is as close as I got.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZNujRg4oNL8sYA2HuPTZWluC6-MKCU54rV_lPovtfZpkcKDfAG5yZBUkmZY-ztnLKK3ytkLGydyVG1sDlDc_YHrf7cxJfv1X2VbuU_aQavD5yAo6EoGLr3TCO5r_CuoWMJVBPJ_QNz4/s1600/Day+20+Bokah+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZNujRg4oNL8sYA2HuPTZWluC6-MKCU54rV_lPovtfZpkcKDfAG5yZBUkmZY-ztnLKK3ytkLGydyVG1sDlDc_YHrf7cxJfv1X2VbuU_aQavD5yAo6EoGLr3TCO5r_CuoWMJVBPJ_QNz4/s400/Day+20+Bokah+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636061244184691970" border="0" /></a>133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-52956181564464671272011-08-02T10:30:00.000-05:002011-08-02T10:30:02.226-05:00Photo Challenge Days 11 - 15Day 11: Something Blue<br />Yoyo toes<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-BYBu_FE1OWp-TZGRiDmBRn4HWidVdEgzfXXGU17dtdPKFK-WZoSBS-XVzr5EHnL80Cmf_bMv9NtCHAhyphenhyphenrxnbOPJo4vAfSrEtRdea_cx1ty6c1K7XToLSRdW8MgZOK4EX2blkNs1eE4/s1600/Day+11+Something+Blue1+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-BYBu_FE1OWp-TZGRiDmBRn4HWidVdEgzfXXGU17dtdPKFK-WZoSBS-XVzr5EHnL80Cmf_bMv9NtCHAhyphenhyphenrxnbOPJo4vAfSrEtRdea_cx1ty6c1K7XToLSRdW8MgZOK4EX2blkNs1eE4/s400/Day+11+Something+Blue1+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635665828172471554" border="0" /></a><br />Day 11: Something Blue2 (Bonus!)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88vZiNFyRSGGLcQeMYuFguuX9G_qCZtuWj0eMjvg-GOvUX-OXggajH1E_jt73SAFP-z6WziVtyhTPDnAZ4Se_yUC-fEH4OypRXG2TakrsRCpKjmPYzqGeinQG_cSZMMYfPBJKN346G38/s1600/Day+11+Something+Blue2+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88vZiNFyRSGGLcQeMYuFguuX9G_qCZtuWj0eMjvg-GOvUX-OXggajH1E_jt73SAFP-z6WziVtyhTPDnAZ4Se_yUC-fEH4OypRXG2TakrsRCpKjmPYzqGeinQG_cSZMMYfPBJKN346G38/s400/Day+11+Something+Blue2+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635665736340510274" border="0" /></a>Day 12: Sunset<br />Cedar Campus bay, from 'The Bear'<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdL8wnBFe1-zUko9z_nzTgWT9IlTm3qN1OhVluOAbfqObRGAvgzVmSs_CINOKYiw06kX7W8Hk4SNwdkGDihQayQ3moWaZTK7khKk6N92kv8VMevjv8xBym2XfNtghhFPGfaXrI7rXLxPs/s1600/Day+12+Sunset+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdL8wnBFe1-zUko9z_nzTgWT9IlTm3qN1OhVluOAbfqObRGAvgzVmSs_CINOKYiw06kX7W8Hk4SNwdkGDihQayQ3moWaZTK7khKk6N92kv8VMevjv8xBym2XfNtghhFPGfaXrI7rXLxPs/s400/Day+12+Sunset+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635665731301702546" border="0" /></a>Day 13: Me with 13 things<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbxgnuIoeoDePsIDqY9CorxR7m6eDNJjnsxhhmowybGN5AnJ_FWqigr1Wxs6om6o0-Z_v6QjRcWSAFbz5XOVDZ9ItichiQqLIZ-ZLeuAylIbZEOa23Ozrvjy3jW1d00j5LxkVHo3_lq0/s1600/Day+13+Me+with+13+things+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbxgnuIoeoDePsIDqY9CorxR7m6eDNJjnsxhhmowybGN5AnJ_FWqigr1Wxs6om6o0-Z_v6QjRcWSAFbz5XOVDZ9ItichiQqLIZ-ZLeuAylIbZEOa23Ozrvjy3jW1d00j5LxkVHo3_lq0/s400/Day+13+Me+with+13+things+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635665728465948738" border="0" /></a>Day 14: Eyes<br />So we're on Mackinac Island and this horse drawn carriage pulls up and stops right in front of me. I was shooting straight into the sun so I couldn't see much through the camera viewer, but I thought I had a good angle on these great horses. When I got home I realized the whole series was quite... disturbing. Although maybe it was me doing the disturbing.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXW3otVmc-9ZSXI9GrT3_LnPuM5dQRA47lHKelEDAnOSXWtT0QHodHfK7D_RKoDVORg6LNi30MI9HsgpnviS-jw1uQs91lzkLd7kjjPrdIyWMU6Rrd5j4wkht3HS_KI4ZFtEQ_GIpqX-Q/s1600/Day+14+Eyes+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXW3otVmc-9ZSXI9GrT3_LnPuM5dQRA47lHKelEDAnOSXWtT0QHodHfK7D_RKoDVORg6LNi30MI9HsgpnviS-jw1uQs91lzkLd7kjjPrdIyWMU6Rrd5j4wkht3HS_KI4ZFtEQ_GIpqX-Q/s400/Day+14+Eyes+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635665721181154290" border="0" /></a>Day 15: Silhouette<br />Cedar Campus bay at dusk<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEObcMM8Y2IysN0H7PfzuKwRIefFsYaBWNA4bYDspcl0cgUM4KPgPFhMCUxOEeWIXyGmnSdRGqx-JtyMYLTi2SyPya1Viwsd5S6K8qY2Ck7S-2dWBidO24JS-hdB-O1yRO6EUhYJ1hg8Q/s1600/Day+15+Silhouette+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 321px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEObcMM8Y2IysN0H7PfzuKwRIefFsYaBWNA4bYDspcl0cgUM4KPgPFhMCUxOEeWIXyGmnSdRGqx-JtyMYLTi2SyPya1Viwsd5S6K8qY2Ck7S-2dWBidO24JS-hdB-O1yRO6EUhYJ1hg8Q/s400/Day+15+Silhouette+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635665717566616978" border="0" /></a>133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-66353317490543154032011-08-01T10:30:00.001-05:002011-08-02T19:55:05.101-05:00Photo Challenge Days 6 - 10<span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Day 6: Low Angle<br />Marquette statue, Mackinac Island<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvWqkqO9Io6nIDOhSFJFMFMF3tYJfBNC6YHogCws6UYe6DEUfxDCZrMgEwPJhjMf4Zi4fbRhjTxfLHe4SgtHegTJ3A-DXsBFxaCe2r3VjoDeB45Vyg_tkWaQQLd7AueB48uSGa2mXXKg/s1600/Day+6+Low+Angle1+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAvWqkqO9Io6nIDOhSFJFMFMF3tYJfBNC6YHogCws6UYe6DEUfxDCZrMgEwPJhjMf4Zi4fbRhjTxfLHe4SgtHegTJ3A-DXsBFxaCe2r3VjoDeB45Vyg_tkWaQQLd7AueB48uSGa2mXXKg/s400/Day+6+Low+Angle1+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635663278884201442" border="0" /></a><br />Day 7: Fruit<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk2TyTU6PFMhsYWekLvwAhEEsEzDv_jVX27hbpxytGLGzGEX8XN2IgRpoj4yNiUn85TvSZZyrrd5pJ4Gi3s7uy91EKONdgm_WMWKCf2CK0r1z37tzq00mc5wPAU7wCEsDFe0fszvCX3x4/s1600/Day+7+Fruit+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk2TyTU6PFMhsYWekLvwAhEEsEzDv_jVX27hbpxytGLGzGEX8XN2IgRpoj4yNiUn85TvSZZyrrd5pJ4Gi3s7uy91EKONdgm_WMWKCf2CK0r1z37tzq00mc5wPAU7wCEsDFe0fszvCX3x4/s400/Day+7+Fruit+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635663273321706882" border="0" /></a><br />Day 8: Bad Habit<br />I think Chris is right. This picture is much more interesting left on it's side.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjk9P8eTWIWOsMMVcLiohQHcar6Zm483RChmcaUV318lQaiZuZGOMeXdrTI5-nWqBp8Z827heZogS5qbPmXO9UAwDxl8TcnbM23JyP6xGpR7YKk1FXkfLgagQmXMU5GuLs8DrYUQILyBk/s1600/Day+8+Bad+Habit+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjk9P8eTWIWOsMMVcLiohQHcar6Zm483RChmcaUV318lQaiZuZGOMeXdrTI5-nWqBp8Z827heZogS5qbPmXO9UAwDxl8TcnbM23JyP6xGpR7YKk1FXkfLgagQmXMU5GuLs8DrYUQILyBk/s400/Day+8+Bad+Habit+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635663269371262338" border="0" /></a>Day 9: Someone I love<br />We argued about whether or not shooting with the flash through a window would work. I tried it anyway and I was very happy with the results.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwrwRYcRHr7WhAVcZGIVXSVZigeefFWRjc4nMrKRTLsAm6zQX4XgUdCQ9cgEgiaxUhyphenhyphen6KQoYNsrQHT3nCorGLgxLLwwxIm9Eg-D7cHlQglX5jHi3BL69Be7L714vqI_MvCYolXdwUq_w/s1600/Day+9+Someone+I+Love1+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwrwRYcRHr7WhAVcZGIVXSVZigeefFWRjc4nMrKRTLsAm6zQX4XgUdCQ9cgEgiaxUhyphenhyphen6KQoYNsrQHT3nCorGLgxLLwwxIm9Eg-D7cHlQglX5jHi3BL69Be7L714vqI_MvCYolXdwUq_w/s400/Day+9+Someone+I+Love1+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635663263516019698" border="0" /></a>Day 10: Childhood Memory<br />I had a lot of fun throwing the frisbee and trying to shoot left-handed from the hip.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHcMuhhURqQaXz4NXMFIZBjuOB9hOtCYXyq9P5Ie7SeW7B92YFc1ViQ6zg56DMOKJp3khprM7vr7XeBXvNJVT4LTi1PUFGkz-3i5w2SJOHnOW-cvgnsch-Umx1Gr373P2zNveX4A2iqU/s1600/Day+10+Childhood+Memory+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHcMuhhURqQaXz4NXMFIZBjuOB9hOtCYXyq9P5Ie7SeW7B92YFc1ViQ6zg56DMOKJp3khprM7vr7XeBXvNJVT4LTi1PUFGkz-3i5w2SJOHnOW-cvgnsch-Umx1Gr373P2zNveX4A2iqU/s400/Day+10+Childhood+Memory+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635663267165166306" border="0" /></a>133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-35459152210058368502011-07-31T11:42:00.007-05:002011-08-02T20:00:01.301-05:00Photo Challenge Days 1 - 5Chris brought a 'photo challenge' along on our vacation to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. You're given one topic or technique each day for 30 days. Well, I didn't have a month and I kinda wanted a Michigan theme, so I did it in a week. I'm oh so 'accelerated' like that...<br />Also, other than cropping, the pictures are generally unedited and not 'tweaked.' I figured if I started doing that I'd spend 20 years fiddling and never post. <br />Anyway, here's how it went:<br /><br />Day 1: Self Portrait<br />Aaaand I'm off to a roaring start, aren't I?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEius3OissPmlzXE3jJAh-0iu7b8cMWGyU7_imS3VWGbSwAeRFPUsg3807v5ZwVf0kiWbnzoArALh9kpjbpAATzD5hhA1C1-i7NicGp2xwDFwS9OiD7oXDl_Pn6Ktg47vCfRLpFVtwzppqE/s1600/Day+1+Self+Portrait1+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEius3OissPmlzXE3jJAh-0iu7b8cMWGyU7_imS3VWGbSwAeRFPUsg3807v5ZwVf0kiWbnzoArALh9kpjbpAATzD5hhA1C1-i7NicGp2xwDFwS9OiD7oXDl_Pn6Ktg47vCfRLpFVtwzppqE/s400/Day+1+Self+Portrait1+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635562637375313154" border="0" /></a><br />Day 2: What I wore today<br />I went running this morning and this pic turned out to be one of my favs. Though admittedly it looks better than it smells.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBh0o2dtf0BC0OQKkS3505dqY3wJjcLZVOYjq2Uo16xgf4Btu9gq-FM_URPRfuvPWngu9BH8vQSjtxFWxJHtNfUcQgevt8TMWxukgjx37ROOLyYCw2n_N4g1woJoqi_wjw-TkP9uU4GUs/s1600/Day+2+What+I+wore+today1+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBh0o2dtf0BC0OQKkS3505dqY3wJjcLZVOYjq2Uo16xgf4Btu9gq-FM_URPRfuvPWngu9BH8vQSjtxFWxJHtNfUcQgevt8TMWxukgjx37ROOLyYCw2n_N4g1woJoqi_wjw-TkP9uU4GUs/s400/Day+2+What+I+wore+today1+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635562659741748770" border="0" /></a>Day 3: Clouds<br />(Chris and I argue about who took this one... she probably did, but I'm taking credit anyway because my other cloud pictures are dull)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrItxmrnE-cOZMkXEioobPwGlCGv3YrCHkUGUrqyH4HFymGoCDhdz8ENBrG8tfmpDD3d9nZKXNZMbHvwUO3x2OrqaqUX8gb75LAL8GxaZsg1l1iZJyXCEJjxwG5JwjV76_pIOg87WncM/s1600/Day+3+Clouds1+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrItxmrnE-cOZMkXEioobPwGlCGv3YrCHkUGUrqyH4HFymGoCDhdz8ENBrG8tfmpDD3d9nZKXNZMbHvwUO3x2OrqaqUX8gb75LAL8GxaZsg1l1iZJyXCEJjxwG5JwjV76_pIOg87WncM/s400/Day+3+Clouds1+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635562656098088354" border="0" /></a>Day 4: Something Green<br />I think it's a half inflated alligator, but I thought it looked like a depressed, beached turtle.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZ27cnm8LgOX-tCVSUwtgJUo6Bf_jdUAwn7T_9JCzC4jH2tmqzn2TikQKvGV1Lgv_kGk3gITSqDdAwTbDtJLrpX35IrIz3_H-KSeoNT-B484TwUo1JSrxtAV302r6m2BHtUu3syWE5QE/s1600/Day+4+Something+Green1+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZ27cnm8LgOX-tCVSUwtgJUo6Bf_jdUAwn7T_9JCzC4jH2tmqzn2TikQKvGV1Lgv_kGk3gITSqDdAwTbDtJLrpX35IrIz3_H-KSeoNT-B484TwUo1JSrxtAV302r6m2BHtUu3syWE5QE/s400/Day+4+Something+Green1+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635562653601734466" border="0" /></a>Day 5: High Angle<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11wLkx3DMf0Xy_XkXIBZgD3vYFj7bAqx2BjGeKL2rgGLOR9fMXpGcUulRcx8iQBHylo9fdUuAYgwD7zuUi52UCClrosjVESWIv9ixDDmj9s4QRSEgvAVIidZosND-Rbncpfnd9Vy1k7s/s1600/Day+5+High+Angle+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11wLkx3DMf0Xy_XkXIBZgD3vYFj7bAqx2BjGeKL2rgGLOR9fMXpGcUulRcx8iQBHylo9fdUuAYgwD7zuUi52UCClrosjVESWIv9ixDDmj9s4QRSEgvAVIidZosND-Rbncpfnd9Vy1k7s/s400/Day+5+High+Angle+%2528Large%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635562646311550178" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEius3OissPmlzXE3jJAh-0iu7b8cMWGyU7_imS3VWGbSwAeRFPUsg3807v5ZwVf0kiWbnzoArALh9kpjbpAATzD5hhA1C1-i7NicGp2xwDFwS9OiD7oXDl_Pn6Ktg47vCfRLpFVtwzppqE/s1600/Day+1+Self+Portrait1+%2528Large%2529.JPG"><br /></a>133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-26813307586690656132011-06-23T18:51:00.000-05:002011-06-23T19:04:48.518-05:00Surely you jest<div><div><p>Dude! I got one of those new beemers too, except mine says "Saturn" on the front.</p><div><br /></div><p align="center"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMiMLIxZH9dydjLq0dwqEp9X5zLB8Mm3KgRv57GBQuIblVKOpDHa8LZRFLA8G8qDXYY88o2n_QBopbNDg8F1KGEeWs8m-bwvSAECPvSCbJybb7R3ETormrMGpjPDsKbqqImZBEPwRBbs/" /></p><div align="left"> </div><p></p></div></div>133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-32517936951840470992008-07-12T23:23:00.003-05:002008-07-12T23:30:41.325-05:00Bandit B GoneJust wanted to say that I caught another 2 raccoons this week. I'd like to thank the first one for eating blackberries before capture so that I now have a big purple stain on my pooped deck. I'd also like to shout out to the second one who left 'signature' in big scratch marks.<br /><br />I know, I know, I should have set the trap on say... cement, but I've never had those problems before.<br /><br />Anyway, the kids got to see the last one and have now had the 'My Daddy catches raccoons' experience.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-72730553142016325052008-07-09T22:03:00.006-05:002008-12-09T23:30:34.808-06:00Critter Review - Summer 08Ok, well for starters, if you haven't figured it out, I've been blogging over <a href="http://gardneradoptionjournal.blogspot.com/">here </a>a lot more lately as things have kinda changed around the Gardner household recently. I will probably continue to do so, but I couldn't really justify griping about feral animals on the family blog, other than the fact that Yordanos wanted to know the Amharic word for "Raccoon." I'm like, "No Amharic. Raccoon English Only," and pulled up this picture in an attempt to describe why I don't want them running around the backyard, dining on free cat food.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRNKtJBDRtXFmK7O-hU1EcEkitsgLaB0uBwyQ35Ol7lu-rEWaiIcS4JT08ZMC7_Ft_dGzRh3jgcmEO9z9pX6kTH6zWVGtg0dYwdcrgLf4BXYpsZLJPdbbPeNfrxNW8sQIXgJMz38Mqhs/s1600-h/angrycoon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRNKtJBDRtXFmK7O-hU1EcEkitsgLaB0uBwyQ35Ol7lu-rEWaiIcS4JT08ZMC7_Ft_dGzRh3jgcmEO9z9pX6kTH6zWVGtg0dYwdcrgLf4BXYpsZLJPdbbPeNfrxNW8sQIXgJMz38Mqhs/s400/angrycoon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221218087822539634" border="0" /></a>So yeah, about 3 days ago I could no longer deny the fact that there were too many flippin raccoons hanging around. I put food out for the cats and a half hour later, no cats, but *4* raccoons (looked like a mother and 3 'cubs' or whatever you call them) were enjoying dinner. So I put the trap out, and needless to say, I caught the one male cat that I couldn't get when I was on the 'neuter the neighborhood' spree. It was kind of a toss up, but I decided to let him go and hope for one of them masked bandits. About an hour later, I looked out and saw a small raccoon in the cage. But here's the thing, whenever I've captured a cat, the other cats all do the, "No sir, I didn't see anything, officer" pose. But this is the first time I've gone out to the cage to find 3 other animals trying to help the trapped one out, and let me tell you, mama was pissed. So I took the little guy 'to a better place' and set the trap again, hoping to catch the mother, figuring that it would be my best bet at keeping them all together. Less than 15 minutes later, another sibling wandered into the trap. Again, he is now in a better place and hopefully caught up with his brother. I guess losing 2 in an hour was enough to convince mama raccoon that there was no such thing as a free meal at the Gardners because there has been no evidence of raccoon activity and the outdoor cats have been lounging around the yard all afternoon (lately they've been dine-and-dash'ing.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjO0qu_zSJeNAMicnNzy2Bl5uw_Cn5jBxXJHX7O5kgdKtGcMT3YKLtWsv7GSyvE0ayoeqZ2S_jybpkfuB3dMczKVky4wHekXM4ocnSqrQeYb0Ev-CpvN1rqmwarx362E9zgKwGF52M3F4/s1600-h/fatmurrayWEBcut.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjO0qu_zSJeNAMicnNzy2Bl5uw_Cn5jBxXJHX7O5kgdKtGcMT3YKLtWsv7GSyvE0ayoeqZ2S_jybpkfuB3dMczKVky4wHekXM4ocnSqrQeYb0Ev-CpvN1rqmwarx362E9zgKwGF52M3F4/s400/fatmurrayWEBcut.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221227090745366162" border="0" /></a>But speaking of the outsiders, it's been over a week since we've had a 'Fat Murray' sighting and I think it's safe to say she's slinked off to the eternal catnap. Once she was no longer pregnant, she really wasn't very fat, but the name stuck anyway. I've probably mentioned this before, but I was amazed that we didn't lose any cats in the winter when the temperature dipped to -25. I figured if they could survive that, they could handle pretty much anything. But I guess when you're talking about feral cats, it's really a matter of when, not if. She was a gentle cat, I hope it was quick. <br /><br />So cheers, Fat Murry, your serene, fuzzy face will be missed.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-81792720138854351512008-06-05T18:22:00.004-05:002008-06-05T18:39:49.443-05:00How I made my insurance man's dayStep 1: Find bat in attic<br />Step 2: Go to internet and search for "OMG, I has a bat in my attic! Please Advise." Be sure to read about how good they are for the environment, how disease ridden they are, and then the part about how there's a big fine if you're caught exterminating them, you insensitive twit.<br />Step 3: Call insurance guy and say, "The interwebs said that most home owners insurance policies cover bat removal and clean up. Does mine?"<br />Step 4: Tell him to call you back when he's done laughing.<br /><br />For extra credit, read about how you aren't supposed to 'relocate' bats in June, July, or August because the babies can't fly yet. Then look at <a href="http://www.aaanimalcontrol.com/bat-attic-rid-remove.htm">this</a> and try to care (No, it's not my attic.)<br /><br />Ok, but the ironic thing is that, although they won't help get the bats out, they will pay for property damage caused by bats. Not clean up, but actual damage. So I guess I have to wait until the attic is so full of bat turds that it crashes through to my dining room. Geniuses.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-61230718123516616392008-06-05T11:44:00.007-05:002008-06-05T13:10:40.627-05:00De-Dinked: The Last Hoorah, no regrets.It occurred to me recently that there really isn't a formal, "Go out with a bang because from now on you'll have to actually BE responsible, and not just faking responsibility like you have been throughout your marriage" rite of passage. There's no equivalent to a bachelor party before having children. I've watched my friends scurry about trying to get in that one last gift for themselves before their baby arrives. Money is almost always tight and the wife is usually keeping an eye out for such activity, but most guys wheedle in one last treat. I got lucky. I got permission to get the bass guitar early on. But Hallmark is really missing a niche here. Whichever company convinces women that having a child should constitute a celebration (and I'm not talking baby shower) will make some serious money.<br /><br />It might also eliminate some of the awkward conversations I've had with folks who try describe the joy of children but are just too exhausted to think striaght. Seriously, parents are the worst salesmen for parenthood. "It's the best thing in the world... well, I mean, it's hard but it's worth it... and it's going to change life as you know it... and you won't sleep for 18 years, but you know, it's great." Um, so which is it? Because as far as I'm concerned worrying about whether the bleach is in a locked cabinet and "sheer bliss" are mutually exclusive, but apparently becoming a parent melts your brain to the point where that makes sense. Anyway, wouldn't it be easier if instead of trying to explain how joyous it was when your kid finally coughed up a LEGO, if current parents could just say, "So, what did you do for your Un-Dinking?" (Dink= Double Income No Kids) See? It's easy.<br /><br />Anyway, I was thinking of all this because the past couple weeks have really been kind of one extended <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DINKY">DINK</a> fest (if that catches on, you heard it here first) and it's been better than any one event I could have planned. At a wedding reception, the math is working against you. A four hour reception with 240 guests means that you get to average 1 minute with each person, and that assumes you visit all through dinner. Maybe I've just been more aware of it lately, but I've done most all of the 'Me' things I've wanted.<br /><br />-Had coffee with Wandtkes<br />-Played at The Brick<br />-Went to an Ethiopian restaurant with the Owens<br />-Sang at church<br />-Drove the commute with my wife one last time<br />-Saw movies (in the theater) with Megan, Brent and Zach<br />-Karaoke'ed with good (I dare say, borderline "great") friends<br />-Saw my favorite bartender<br />-Had lunch with "The Boys"<br />-I READ A BOOK!!! (Well, half of one anyway...)<br />-Various people who I haven't seen in ages have called out of the blue, the list goes on.<br /><br />I know none of this stuff sounds like party material, but add it up and it's actually what any single celebration could ever hope to accomplish. I've interacted with nearly everyone whom I consider near and dear (I've missed a couple of you, but you know who you are!) in the past two weeks and that has made this transition into parenthood a real celebration for me.<br /><br />So thanks to all of you who came to my two week De-DINK-A-Thon. It's really been my pleasure, and hopefully Team Gardner can return the favor sometime.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-53506547053850901652008-05-18T14:45:00.004-05:002008-05-18T15:50:17.644-05:00The Saturn does not need more "BAM!"So Friday night, Chris stayed late in Elgin to hang with her knitting crew, and I went out to Open Mike and Karaoke. So, I'm walking home at 1am and I see Chris's car parked in the street, which is *really* unusual. I guess I had left my car in the driveway and she wasn't up for the car swap it would take to get her car into the garage.<br /><br />Now, normally this is not a problem, but occasionally, on weekends when the weather is good the youth of Belvidere take advantage of unattended vehicles. I say "occasionally" because since we've lived at this house I've had stuff done to my car a handful of times. Getting my mirror whacked off was probably the most serious, but that happened to every car on the street that night, and clearly nothing personal. Some might say once is too much, but for me it's not so much the damage that bothers me, it's more just the feeling of being violated.<br /><br />So, knowing that it's a nice spring evening and it's not a school night, I approach the Saturn trying to get the glare from the street light at the right angle to see if there's been any damage. I see a big clear splatter mark across the windshield which, if I hadn't gotten the car washed 3 days ago, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but now this requires more investigation. I continue walking toward the car and I see that there is little bits of something on the ground, but they're not reflecting so it's not glass, which is a bonus.<br /><br />Care to guess what I found sticking to the hood and windshield wipers of my wife's car? If you guessed "olives" you'd be half right. Yeah... someone threw olives and maraschino cherries at my car. Cherries? Olives? If you can't make a good martini, don't take it out on me. Seriously who, pray tell, decides at midnight that they are going to drive around and garnish the neighborhood? <br /><br />And this isn't the first time this has happened. Okay, okay, technically last time my car was condiment'ed with catchup but you get the idea. I don't know if the "traditional" vehicle vandalism foods are too expensive now or what, but it's just really weird. What's also weird is that they they didn't just whip the bottle of olives at the car (i.e. I didn't find a chip in the glass, or the container in the lawn) but they did egg the side mirror. ??? As if to say, "It's just a prank, but not really." I really don't mind the "sticky until you wash it off" stuff, but eggs can do real damage. Maybe kids just don't get the difference yet. I know I didn't until I had to clean it up and then realized a couple months later that I had missed some places where the paint had been eaten through.<br /><br />Kids these days... pfft, whatever. Just stay off my lawn or I'll shake my fist at you.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-47945334763032893362008-05-12T19:14:00.005-05:002008-12-09T23:30:35.011-06:00Bob Strikes Back! (Hoser...)I've talked about Bob, the World's cheapest man and the previous owner of our house, before. Well, for the past year, I've been watching various hose carriers and reels decay and fall off our house. All I could think was, "We can put a man on the moon, why is it so difficult to keep a hose tidy?" I believe the answer lies in how much one invests in equipment. For NASA that means, "As much as is necessary," while for Bob it means, "As close to zero as possible." Big difference.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57R_vl2ZR03tQ7aXry5k0saglANUfr4T-vr5xDInQL52ADcj84hP9f0MK4rxrNfFzzAS7kCLxOCeI4RegF1eeoIHvPAbwxquRZAD8uETWDqg6r0-fru-KKIKfq8wXx6uPVFltDUntSnY/s1600-h/IMGP5856a.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57R_vl2ZR03tQ7aXry5k0saglANUfr4T-vr5xDInQL52ADcj84hP9f0MK4rxrNfFzzAS7kCLxOCeI4RegF1eeoIHvPAbwxquRZAD8uETWDqg6r0-fru-KKIKfq8wXx6uPVFltDUntSnY/s400/IMGP5856a.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199657412777502770" border="0" /></a>(Note how the spigot is actually holding more hose than the caddy at this point...)<br /><br /></div>So I'm at K-Mart the other day and I remembered that the south side hose caddy is literally on it's last leg. I trudge off to the lawn and garden section, just to kind of get an idea for how much a replacement part is going to cost me and I see that there are about 15 different devices for storing your hose. Finally I find the one that's $3.89 that looks similar to the one that's clinging to my house by it's fingernails. It seems to meet all of Bob's criteria: It's an off brand, has absolutely no frills, and it's the cheapest one... at K-Mart! I get back home and find that my current hose "organizer" is exactly the same brand, no surprise there.<br /><br />I go back to K-Mart and buy two of them. Why? Because to Bob's credit this particular hose carrier has five mount points, four of which line up perfectly around a brick. So since I got the exact same model, I don't have to drill more holes into my house. And I won't have to the next time it falls off either. Home improvement using the Bob method. Ta-Dah!133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-26829169529655463062008-04-24T21:26:00.007-05:002008-12-09T23:30:35.164-06:00Feline Evangelist [Eye Roll]Want to know how to tell you're a crazy? When you start comparing yourself to other crazy people and you say to yourself you <span style="font-style: italic;">must </span>be ok because at least you aren't like <span style="font-style: italic;">them</span>.<br /><br />I went to the grocery store today for 3 things. 3. Just a survival run. Milk, tea, and catfood. That's it. The first two took me about 2 minutes, so I go whipping my cart into the kitty section. I'm scanning for the biggest bag I can find, when this other guy in the aisle sees me perusing and says, "Hey, can I make a recommendation?" Sure, why not, and hopefully you're going to point out the stuff that's on sale.<br /><br />So he points out the only Purina catfood flavor that's not made with animal byproducts. Ok, kinda interesting. He then describes what 'animal byproducts' actually are. Ooo-kay. Then he explains why beaks, claws and feathers are bad for a cat's digestive system. Fine, I got it. Then he proceeds to give me an anatomy lesson on feline kidneys, and the proper diet to care for them. Yeah, yeah, yeah... I look at his cart and it's FULL of cat food, but interestingly, not with the brand he recommended. He then goes into great detail about how the wet food he's buying is way better than the dry stuff he recommended. Glazing commences, no more eye contact. He tells me about how this particular wet food is produced at a fish cannery and not a catfood plant so it's higher quality. He says blah-blah tuna blah, when Chris calls me with a couple more items to pick up. Oh, I love that woman and her timing! I pull back. He leans in. The smell of dirty cat wafts toward me. I stand still, thanking God that my wife wouldn't put up with our house (or me) smelling like that. Then, I kid you not, he then starts to suggest milk alternatives for lactose intolerant cats. Now I'm trying to figure out an exit strategy. He then shows me the two bottles of Lact-Aid buried in his cart under the cat food. Leaving is no longer optional and is now paramount. He says that he learned all this because his other cat died of kidney problems and the vet explained all this to him. KTHXBYE! I leave without a bag catfood. Dude, I was just happy to get out of that aisle.<br /><br />I came back later, but he had cornered some other woman. Sorry sister... he's sexually harmless, so you're on your own.<br /><br />Here's the thing, I was looking for food for the <span style="font-weight: bold;">outdoor </span>cats. Feral cats have an average life expectancy of about 3 years, 5 max. And frankly, I suspect far more die from a Chevy overdose than renal failure. And I happen to know that they can survive -25 degree nights on whatever food is on sale. But there was no way I was going to pick up the 20 pound bag 'o dehydrated chicken eyeballs in front of that guy after that lecture.<br /><br />Well, not <span style="font-style: italic;">there </span>anyway...<br /><br />Now, I'm not exactly an<a href="http://133gardner.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-little-pestilence.html"> emotional cornerstone</a> when it comes to the death of a pet, but seriously, at least I'm not <span style="font-style: italic;">that </span>guy.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsP4B6zhjEw7Yev4KuS7A9vVhEHuY96Nq3D__q5rGmX9Odb1s4ksU_YYQP37lQugnARNjy6z1gWQHeMvDD1x-nacgEdV2ZpBD6fiHaeoeEy4MT3008IfIv0GMGn0PHkQLeE4rZI-gwzg/s1600-h/fatmurray2web.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsP4B6zhjEw7Yev4KuS7A9vVhEHuY96Nq3D__q5rGmX9Odb1s4ksU_YYQP37lQugnARNjy6z1gWQHeMvDD1x-nacgEdV2ZpBD6fiHaeoeEy4MT3008IfIv0GMGn0PHkQLeE4rZI-gwzg/s400/fatmurray2web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193031663102737810" border="0" /></a>Fat Murray is not impressed with the outdoor buffet.<br />(Yes I stole this pic from Chris's blog. It's a great shot.)<br /></div>133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-50729811730364627712008-04-23T21:26:00.005-05:002008-12-09T23:30:35.274-06:00Putting the Oh-Oh-One in m0n0nuc1eosisSmiles everyone, Smiles! This is officially my 100th post! So I'll try to make it a reeeeally good one, like the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wormhole_X-Treme%21">100th episode of Stargate</a> or the <a href="http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemailahundred.html">100th Strongbad email</a>. You know... a real American classic.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Or, I could just post an oh-so flattering picture of myself with my head on a stump and be done with it...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNocJdBLIfkLTQy6oNl8JeUzAxSQ8i8KEFXri1d9qgGM2g9W4Ak5TpKjYvFLBiVe_gypk5seFulxDSsTsGaNYWxOYZeuv4vbg1zjM4m6OwToxrqeYbQWTj0grPkn3k-pfX0i227FEnDyI/s1600-h/00000073a.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNocJdBLIfkLTQy6oNl8JeUzAxSQ8i8KEFXri1d9qgGM2g9W4Ak5TpKjYvFLBiVe_gypk5seFulxDSsTsGaNYWxOYZeuv4vbg1zjM4m6OwToxrqeYbQWTj0grPkn3k-pfX0i227FEnDyI/s400/00000073a.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192639124566719858" border="0" /></a>Ta-DAH!<br /></div>Back in my day, we didn't have <span style="font-style: italic;">Photoshop</span>. NoooOOOoo! We had dead trees, and a game called, "Saw off my head and throw it at a stump." We played it for hours AND WE LIKED IT!<br /><br />Ok, Ok, meanwhile...<br />I mentioned <a href="http://133gardner.blogspot.com/2008/04/from-information-i-could-have-used.html">earlier </a>that I finally went to the doctor last week. Well, the lab results came back today and oh, lookie here, there's a big pile of Mono-fighting antibodies hanging out in my blood. The only reason those would still be there is if I had recently had Mono. Lovely. I feel mildly vindicated though. It's kind of like the old Wayne's World quote, "I thought I had Mono once, turns out I was just really bored," but in reverse. Granted, it's not as funny to say, "I thought I was bored for three months, turns out I had Mono," but it's more accurate to my situation.<br />Anyway, Chris listened to the voice mail, squinted at me and said, "Hmm, who'd you get Mono from?" playing the coyly-jealous spouse card. "You," I said, answering the question and trumping the conversation in one syllable. Her attitude kinda descended after that. Chris had a rough winter too, and not just because I was asleep or the living dead the majority of the time.<br /><br />Oh, and apparently I'm low on vitamin B12. So my doctor who casually mentioned that I should probably be taking a daily multivitamin, was right. Care to guess the symptoms of a b12 deficiency? Clipped from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vitamin_B12_deficiency">wiki</a>:<br /><br />"Common early symptoms are tiredness or a decreased mental work capacity, decreased concentration and decreased memory, irritability and depression."<br /><br />Really? No freekin' kidding. Here's a summary of my winter: Eye roll. Fidgit-Fidgit. Yawn. Glare. "What were you saying again?" Tap-tap-tap. Sigh. Glaze. Stretch. Head in hands. "What?"<br /><br />Aaaand Scene!133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-54072486637744895732008-04-20T22:27:00.003-05:002008-12-09T23:30:35.471-06:00No time like April......to start working on those New Years resolutions, that's what I always say!<br /> Last month I had to return the Bass guitar I had been borrowing for 3 years. The original owner was coming back from (at least) his second tour of duty and wanted it back. I was going to arm wrestle him for it, but you know, I didn't want to embarrass him or anything... so you know, I just played it cool. I didn't even cry.<br /> Ever since then I've been laying the groundwork for getting my own. You see, in our marriage there's a LOT of passive-aggressive, cloak-and-dagger, mind games going on all the time. It's like this constant brutal chess match. Here's a sample conversation:<br /><br />Me: You know, I had to return that Bass Guitar I was borrowing... I'm going to need my own.<br />Her: Fine.<br />Me: I'm serious, I need to buy one soon.<br />Her: Ok.<br /><br />(20 minutes later)<br /><br />Me: Hey, I'm going out to go buy a Bass guitar and you can't stop me.<br />Her: I told you that was fine. Bye!<br /><br />See how at this point I've got her so spun around she almost thinks it was <span style="font-style: italic;">her</span> idea? CheckMate baby, CheckMate.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPu9sZwOTEphktv0k6f4Soapj5Hk_86alqCIh7KsTthGh-C9A5msM71zSzsvHozy2zDaAyyfJq8EUIbCqRbeH_TgPc7hD_3Jef53hvjA5sz1U40Bri29nVdsddaCfB-DTyTCjvqLeOz2E/s1600-h/MKclub-custom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPu9sZwOTEphktv0k6f4Soapj5Hk_86alqCIh7KsTthGh-C9A5msM71zSzsvHozy2zDaAyyfJq8EUIbCqRbeH_TgPc7hD_3Jef53hvjA5sz1U40Bri29nVdsddaCfB-DTyTCjvqLeOz2E/s320/MKclub-custom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191541846406294530" border="0" /></a>Anyway, so I drove out to my not-so-terribly-local guitar shop looking for a bass guitar. I don't think I was being really picky, but I had some basic criteria. For starters, acoustic-electric translates to me as, "I can practice without an amp" and that alone is a deal maker. Also, it has to have frets and only 4 strings. I could not care less about the brand or the electronics, I did have those two options figured out. The design and style should be fairly 'generic' for lack of a better word. I don't need a lot of bling or attention at this point. Oh, and it should sound and feel good... did I forget to mention that?<br /><br />Turns out I did have a couple more parameters though, that I didn't even know about. For instance, I immediately skipped over any guitar that had "JAZZ BASS" printed on the headstock. I'm sure they sound great, but I guess I'm just not comfortable enough in my bass-ulinity to get over that. And on the other hand, there's a lot of really presumptuous Bass guitars out there. I'm not <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flea_%28musician%29">Flea</a>, nor will I ever be. And there was a whole wall of daggery/skullified/blood-oozing/spidered basses that just gave me the finger as I looked them over. Seriously, for me, it's an instrument, I'm not trying to make a statement yet. I finally found <a href="http://www.michaelkellyguitars.com/club_custom.html#">this one</a> in the far corner, facing the wall without a price tag. That's about as unassuming as you can get. SOLD!<br /><br />Oh, and last rule of guitar buying. Once you put your money down, don't pick up another guitar. No good can come of that.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3791862532102780634.post-85549922079327619352008-04-20T10:58:00.004-05:002008-04-20T11:48:30.518-05:00Gauging my [CENSORED] successIn my constant quest to write down all the unwritten rules of karaoke, I've come to recognize some very tangible indicators of audience approval. Now you might assume that this would be fairly obvious, but you'd be thinking with your sober mind. Your friends are there for support and should be encouraging even if you tank. Strangers are well, strange and unpredictable.<br /><br />Applause is not a particularly valid indicator. From the mic it's hard to tell the difference between, courtesy clapping, genuine applause, and just unrestricted enthusiasm induced by "liquid courage."<br /><br />Being completely ignored isn't necessarily a good or bad thing either. Maybe you missed that single approving nod, or it could mean folks just came out to socialize and it happened to be karaoke night.<br /><br />Sometimes people sing along because they are familiar with the song. Other times people sing along because they're trying to drowned you out. It's kind of a toss up.<br /><br />So how do you know if you suck or not? Here's how I gauge it...<br /><br />1) How do *I* feel I did. Bottom line is that if I think I nailed it, I probably did.<br /><br />2) Explicatives followed by "A!", "Rocked," or "Sweet," tell me that I did something right. I'm going strictly by experienced frequency here. I get an enthusiastic "That was BLEEPIN' Awesome!" so rarely that it <span style="font-style: italic;">has </span>to be noteworthy. And lastly...<br /><br />3) Did it make girls dance? Because really, at that point, does it matter how well you're actually doing? The consensus from guys is, "No." Technical accuracy goes right out the window after that. For women singers, your mileage may vary.<br /><br />I'd like to thank my friends who came out the other night and made sure I heard #2 and then proceeded to completely abuse #3. I still feel scarred and dirty, thank you Julie. <br /><br />I've already said too much.133Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16753273892880770624noreply@blogger.com0