Hi. My name is Rich and I'm a tortured artist.
The Confession
Well, really, I'm more tortured, than artistic. And it may be argued that the artistic is more artifice than artful. But I try, nonetheless.
Folks who don't know me well (meaning just about everybody) don't realize I have this creative half that doesn't wield its powers in the company of friends and coworkers until long after we meet. In fact, not knowing myself as well as I ought, even I remained largely unaware of this need to create until the beast was unleashed during my final year of high school. My more "public" facing personna tends to be bookish, I suppose — and there's a good reason for that: I'm rarely without a book. Even in good company.
Not quite a misanthrope…
As long as I'm in the
Happiness is finding beauty in unexpected places.
I try not to post too many things close together, but I was too excited about this to let it slide without posting.
No, I didn't get a job.
Tonight I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. At first I thought it was a reflection off the rim of my eye-wear. Then I thought, Wait, is that a spider dangling in mid-air? So I looked, and I saw what I at first thought was the hugest arachnid I'd ever seen clutching the wall of my house.
But, no, after I stopped screaming hysterically (at least, in my head), I looked more closely, adjusted my spectacles, and realized I was seeing a beautiful dragonfly.
I gently encouraged the little critter up on my finger and, cupping my hands
Update: I've added Jennifer's account of AJ's first day in the comments section, for the interested.
Today we sent our little boy to school for the first time. Nobody wept. There was no gnashing of teeth, wailing, or sack-cloth and ashes. On our part, anyhow. Instead, we were excited to see AJ off to a new adventure in his life, one that promises whole new rafts of friends, future sleepovers, new books to read, realms of knowledge to acquire, and numerous — I repeat ... numerous — parent-teacher conferences down the road.
He's not angry, just surprised and squinting into the Sun. Or maybe he's just part Ferengi.
Every parent believes their child to be the brightest bulb in the firmament — with the possible exception of overachieving, insecure parents who vicariously live through their childen, ever suspecting and fearing that their child will prove to be as colossal a failure as they imagine themselves to be.
Not us. AJ is not only bright, he is certifiably bright, even if nobody believes us the first time we warn them — err — inform them. My Bride and are enomously proud of our son (when we're not enormously vexed by his impulse-control), and I've already been justifiably corrected by my son on many observations I've made. The days are few until he truly knows more about things than I do and I become the student. Nevertheless, I hope to remain in service as his father, mentor, and guide — even through High School.
So, a couple weeks ago I decided I had enough of the receding hairline thing. I also woke up that Saturday and looked in the mirror and decided I didn’t like to look like Crusty the Clown. When hair thins, it doesn’t have fellow hairs to hang on to and cling to. Lonely hairs stand out, stand up, and wave about. It’s not pretty.
And I got tired of the wind, having to carry a comb everywhere, and just generally tired of managing dying hair.
So, I shaved. Not all the way, just enough to feel like I was shaved. I left a wee little bit of hair behind. I wasn’t totally serious about baldness yet—besides, it’s still cold here in Chicago. I need a little bit of warmth left.
A week later, AJ followed
Last night I enjoyed one of those moments of fatherhood I never thought about before we had kids: pulling teeth. Twice now I've gotten some dental floss from the cabinet, tied a knot around a loose tooth, and pulled, to reveal a bloodless tiny kernel of dentition in a tangle of nylon twine. AJ has now lost his front two lower teeth, and he's already got the tips of the new one poking through the gum-line. (Those were the easy teeth. I worry about the others now.)
Before Jennifer and I married, we discussed what we would do about Christmas, Halloween, Easter, and other childhood stories. I was adamant: no myths. No lies. No Santa.
No. Tooth. Fairy.
I would not lie to my children for the sake of
Just before leaving Muskegon, Michigan, this Thanksgiving, AJ started asking us about Lake Michigan, and we realized we hadn’t taken him to see the lake for a couple years. He’s nearly five, now, so he has no memories of seeing it before. So, after driving around and trying a few frozen over access points—and one over-run by hunters—we took AJ to the pier/lighthouse where I proposed to Jennifer in 1997. There was a massive ice-shelf extending into the lake (beyond the lighthouse) when I proposed (I was literally standing on nothing but ice!), but it wasn’t that cold yet this weekend, so we thought it would be a great time to visit.
Boy, was it cold. Ice had already started forming on the lighthouse and the pier leading up to it. We couldn’t get any closer than what you see in this picture because the concrete was far too icy and
I thought I’d just post something fun, today. For me, anyhow. Photos!
Jennifer and I visited Seattle, Washington, to enjoy our honeymoon eight years ago. We fell in love with the Pacific Northwest. I think we’d move there in a heartbeat if there was a job offer. At least, that’s what we used to say before we had kids. Now, however, moving away from Gramma and Grampa would be a tough decision.
As is required on all seaside vacations, I took the requisite scenic postcard shots. There was your sunset over water picture, your commonplace urban objects like drinking fountains and lamp posts, a few varieties of graying beachwood, and a “would-you-take-this-picture-of-us” tourist shot.
So, the other night, I get home, and before I know it, I'm in the middle of a whirling dervish of kids spinning, crawling, leaping, and rolling. AJ's been on this freerunning/parkour kick ever since we watched "Jump|Britain" on The Learning Channel a few weeks ago. At home he's leaping from couch to chair to stairs, to carpet, clumsily rolling and flailing all the while. It's unnerving, but we don't discourage it much, despite the damage to our furniture. We like active kids. God knows we aren't active enough ourselves. But in the middle of his demonstration, he stops to pull a magic trick on me. We had the camera out, so we caught it. As usual, our in-home pics aren't all that impressive, but, hey, we're proud parents.
Every night I come home to a family. After nearly a decade of marriage and nearly five years being a parent, I'm still not entirely used to it. When it was just AJ and Jennifer waiting for me at home, I'd be greeted with a joyful, “Daddy's home!” and a running jump from my ferret-on-crack son. Now, I still get that, but I also get the quieter (sometimes whinier!) love and greeting from my beautiful daughter, Elisabeth. (Jennifer took this picture, by the way. Click the thumbnail for a bigger shot.)
I don't know what I'm going to do when boys start taking an interest in her.
Relocate to Montana.
[tags]blogrodent, elisabeth, kids, photography, smiling, face[/tags]
Driving home last week I did a double take when a yuppie on a fine touring motorcycle passed me on the left. First I admired his bike, though with a smirk, being a fan of the recent spate of custom chopper shows on The Discovery Channel. Poser. (Like I should know? I’ve never been on a motorcycle of any flavor in my entire adult life. And my pimped out “ride” is a beat-up Toyota with 275,000 miles on it and profane epithets etched in the paint by friendly neighborhood boys.)
Then I saw a haggardly waving plasticine hand gesturing for my attention from behind the rider. (Click the thumbnail to see the whole blurry, shaky, awful pic.)
Oh, no. Woody’s been kidnapped!
I had to smile, and I thought of my 4–1/2–year-old son and
Here are a couple unrelated shots that I took in the last 24-hours or so. The first one here, I took today at lunch. I usually head out from the office for my noon break. I am an introvert, so while I'm friendly, I need a lot of time alone to recharge my batteries. Plus, I love to read, so I like to take advantage of my lunch hour to inhale a little fiction.
So, anyhow, I often ask myself what I can find in my normal habitual environment that could prove visually interesting in a photograph? I'm always asking myself this. It forces to me to look at my comfortable—even boring—surroundings with a new interest. And after all the hours spent in my car, what’s more familiar and un-artistic than my car and the keys
I enjoyed a great afternoon with my kids this last Sunday. Since I’ve been in a new photo-sig at work, and since I started this blog a month ago, I thought I’d take my wife’s little 3-megapixel camera with me. Sure, it’s not an SLR, but why be a snob—especially when the images are free? 
We got a late start and didn’t head out for McDonald’s Playland until very late, and by the time we got down the road—I mean, all of about 15 minutes—Elisabeth had passed out. You can see here that she’s pretty groggy, and that was after she and AJ had slept in the van for about two hours.
Yes, you read that right. I’m a horrible parent. I made my kids sleep in an air-conditioned van. :: sigh :: Oh well. Once Elisabeth
AJ looking thoughtful/worried/constipated. Take your pick.
AJ is frequently “spacing out” with this blank look on his face, and about the only way for him to get out of his zone is for him to randomly slap his own forehead with his hand. It’s this weird zen-like form of autism, I’m convinced.
However, the doc says it’s fine, and Jennifer realized the other day that she does exactly the same thing.
And now she’s slapping herself on the forehead for no apparent reason. I guess I’m used to being around people with a thousand-yard stare. I’m not used to them smacking their foreheads!
Now, I don’t really know he’s “spacing out” here. This picture was taken by Jennifer. However, I suspect he is, because anytime there’s a camera within spitting distance, he can’t help but turn on the ham factor. So, in the absence of hammery,
This is a picture taken by Jennifer. AJ's sitting happy as a clam (Are they, really, all that happy? Or is it just a sham to throw us off our game?), or something. That's “Diesel #10” in his hands, and a Thomas the Train T-shirt.
Why do boys instinctively love trains? What's that about? Are we boys hardwired somehow to respond to the power, the deep bass rumble, the dangerous machinery, the oil? Maybe trains remind us of God?
Click on the thumbnail to get a bigger version.
[tags]BlogRodent, kids, photography, trains, thomas-the-train, children, AJ[/tags]
Hey, guys. I'm trying out a desktop client called w.bloggar to upload this article, and a couple images.
This image is one of the first images I took with the little 3-megapixel camera I bought my wife. I've not used the camera much, but I was impressed with what it could do, despite the fact that it's not an SLR. Someday, maybe, I'll join those vaunted ranks.
Click to enlarge |
About this image: I am fond of taking pictures of "found" art or objects. I firmly believe that an artist can find beauty in the most mundane places and objects. So, this is a challenge I often pose to myself: without leaving this room or area, can I find something worthwhile to photograph and can I see it in such a way
My incomparable daughter, Elisabeth, taken about two months ago. She was about a year and three months old when this picture was taken by my wife.
Sadly, it's my wife's camera, and so I don't usually have it to take many pictures. Hopefully, that'll change, and I'll be able to post some new pix of my own here. Or I can convince Jen to use this site to upload frequent images of the kids here. That'd be fun!
I do love my kids.
[tags]BlogRodent, kids, photography, funny-face, Elisabeth[/tags]
