Big

30/365
4:36pm

Charlie likes what eats to be Big, which means whole. There have been many-o-tears over quartering his grapes, chopping his broccoli, dicing his chicken. Big is a problem because if I cut anything, I can't jigsaw it back together without getting busted. But the bigger Big issue is that if I serve something in its entirety and my dear son takes a bite (gasp!), to his dismay it's no longer Big. The horror, the outrage, the injustice!

Even warm chocolate chip cookies aren't precluded from Big expectations.

Stalagmite

29/365
3:53pm

The condensation from the furnace exhaust created this unusual little ice formation on the side of our house. Hey, it's a slow day around here!

Could just be me, but with the light appearing as if it's glowing from within, I think it's a worthy component of the crystalline architecture in Superman's Fortress of Solitude. Who didn't want to pull out of one those memory crystals?

Shot this at 1/125, f/22, ISO 400. I'd probably bring that down if I could do it over. Click on this picture to enlarge it; the sparkle on top looks like I used a star filter.

Consolation Prize

28/365
9:04am

Not all winter days are melancholy.

Last night's light snow and this morning's sub-zero temps left the UW Arboretum beautifully rimed. We may not have tropical breezes and an ocean view, but a morning like this makes it worth coming in second/last.

Perch

27/365
10:59am

I slowly pass Vilas Beach every week; in the winter, it's truly the road less traveled around here. In a couple months, the zoo, on the other side of the beach, will be littered with grime-free school buses, teachers leading long, wild kid chains, and mothers doing their best imitation of monkeys, bears, & lions. These moms and teachers appear to be personal cheerleaders for the entire animal kingdom, eking out every sound and action with grand gestures and facial expressions. The carousel will be orbiting and melodious, the animals curious and chatty, an irretrievable red balloon may dot the sky. There will surely be laughter, joyous shrieking, and make no mistake, there will also be wailing.

There was no such cacophony today. Stillness.

Immersing

26/365
10:53pm

John can attest how every now and then I convince myself I shouldn't even attempt to scour the pot until morning because the pot needs time to enjoy a hot bath too. You know darn well I didn't use that pot for pasta water tonight.

I suppose the picture doesn't have much to say for itself. In fact, I had to move the lid into the frame and pulled back to include the handle because no one would have known what in the world it was. Knowing this shot didn't have much to offer, I thought I could at least work on the mechanics, particularly the movement. The stream of water had to be forceful enough to look like anything was happening, but in doing so it also created a lot of bubble movement too. Tripod (again), left the shutter open for 2.5 seconds (fairly random decision--enough to see movement, short enough not to let in too much light), and set the ISO to 400.

Desolate

25/365
5:01pm
We were having one of those Need to Leave the Premises kind of days, but it was five (degrees) and really not much to do. When John needed to run into Bascom for second, we all insisted on going with him. In.Sis.Ted. As we headed up Observatory Drive, I thought Allen Centennial Gardens had never looked so sorrowful. I shot about 30 frames in the twelve minutes I was in there (and my fingers are still cold four hours later), and thought I would be using a close-up of the old vines on the pergola. Once I loaded them, John and I both immediately settled on this one. It has a story to tell.

The longer I look at this photograph, the more I think maybe it's really just in a state of quietness, tranquility, if you will, and enjoying its winter solitude, patiently waiting for summer.

Rotten

24/365
5:00pm

Ever felt like this? Poor guy. Nothing to cause alarm, just a cold. But still. His dad and brother left us for a fun little party this evening and he was feeling too crummy to protest. So, we played a couple cut-throat games of Sequence, watched a fascinating Reading Rainbow episode on manatees, had an unusually calm and civilized dinner together, and read several bedtime stories before the other two even made it home. It was the very first time I have had an evening alone with only Jack since Charlie was born. I suppose I was feeling a little sad about that until two things happened: the first, Jack insisted Charlie and John wake him up the minute they got home to say good-night; and second, before Charlie even said hi to me when he walked in the door, he asked, "Where's Jack, Mama? Want to see Jack now!"

Every time I look at the picture my bottom lip juts out a bit and I can hear the voice in my head lend a sympathetic "aww" to the child. I wasn't going to post it--really, who needs a memory of this? It occurred to me, however, that I don't have any pictures of the kids when they're sick (why would I?), and that's the point of the project. One moment, every day, a whole year. This was today. And for the record, I have no idea why in the world he is wearing a mitten.

Good Sport

23/365
7:51pm
I took quite a few pictures earlier in the day. Several of Charlie. Some of Matchbox cars. A couple of a side-stitching game of Gotcha! One of an orange. Meh.

It's not like John volunteered to do this--as clearly illustrated by the look on his face. But I'm grateful nonetheless. I can't recall really taking just John's photograph in the last couple years. He's certainly in them, he's present and accounted for in space and time. However, this one is not just a picture placing him against the Caribbean or taking the kids out on Halloween, both important and memorable. But this kind of setting allows the picture to be him and isn't defined by where he is or what he's doing.

Since it was already dark and I didn't have access to natural light, I had to use a nearby lamp and put the camera on the tripod. The tripod certainly has its limitations, one of them being its height. I actually think it's perfectly acceptable to lop off the top of his head, but I wish the shot squarely met his eyes. Instead, I can feel John looking down into the camera here and it makes me want to re-shoot this. And that option is not bloody likely.

My Jack

22/365
4:27pm

Jack hates to be photographed. *Hates it.* He'd rather have a time-out. I've been known to lie, just tell him I'm fiddling around with the buttons and knobs and dials and not really taking his picture. I've been known to bribe. I've been known to plead. I've been known to give the look, especially when others (read: grandparents) really want his picture.

He's pretty much always been this way. I've taken him to professional photographers twice, at four months and at one year. Both ended in serious tears, an empty wallet, and not even one shot worthy of pulling out to strangers. We're in no shortage of photo documentation of our firstborn child here, but I will say that ones that capture my Jack are few and far between compared to ever-light, ever-present Charlie. That makes catching a moment like this gratifying.

Crumby Goodness

21/365
4:22pm

Jack and I made orange-cranberry scones this afternoon. He's actually quite skilled at assembling the ingredients & utensils, measuring, whisking, kneading. He also has an entertaining running commentary while we work. Interestingly, the project is abandoned when the first baking sheet hits the oven rack. Sure, he comes around to check the progress, take in some free sniffs on the cooling wire, and have a couple samples. Apparently, it's enough for him that the cleaning lady oversees the wash and dry session.

I changed the f-stop to 5.6, which allows the scone in the front to be in focus while the others are not. I didn't change the color or tone afterward, but I preset the white balance to tungsten.

Exclamation Point

20/365
10:43am
The two local "worker guys" (to be muttered with a gruff, serious voice) took a break from constructing a fully functioning government building made entirely out of Bristle Blocks. [Insert government joke here.]

I wonder if either of them will have a memory of any part what brought us to the this day. I read that some empirical investigations show that even one- and two-year-olds have some long-term memory for certain autobiographical events. You know what that means? Jack will forever remember the time we had to make dinner (gasp!) and didn't have time to play trains for the 987th time (double gasp!). In all seriousness, it would be incredible if one or both of them could carry just a bit of this moment with them for all their days. In the meantime, I'll have pictures and video and newspapers and posters, and of course, my own yammering stories of waiting in line and shaking hands with the future Mr. President.

What a satisfying day.

Hexagonal Prism

19/365
4:36pm

We have about two dozen snowflakes hanging from our dining room ceiling right now. Carolyn made them in December as part of our Winter Wonderland Christmas theme (because 56" of the real stuff just wasn't enough), and I'm pretty sure she could go into a lucrative paper snowflake business if the whole grad school thing doesn't pan out in the fall.

We tend to have these themes that last well past the celebration. Our dining room remained an aquarium for a good two months after Jack's third birthday, and stars donned our ceiling for the entire Summer 2008 after his space party. And we can't forget Charlie's "This" party--that's right, we gave a one-year-old a party in honor of his favorite word at the time: this (words equipped with arrows pointing to the appropriate object, of course).

I put the tripod on top of the dining room table, opened the shutter for 4 seconds, and changed it to B&W to increase the contrast. Done and done.

Kiss of Fire

18/365
8:09pm

John and I have a bit of a sushi addiction. It's true. So much so, that we still went for sushi after spending the morning at the Shedd. That's probably bad form, right? We probably should have feasted on chicken in solidarity for the fish, but the last time we went out for dinner was October and well, sushi won the restaurant version of Eeney, Meeny, Miny, Moe.

I'm fairly certain that I've never taken a picture of food in a restaurant. My grandma sure does; I've seen many-o-cruise-ship spread and ice sculptures from her trusty disc film camera. However, tonight was my crack at it. When the Bacardi 151 Kiss of Fire arrived at our table, I couldn't resist pulling out the camera and posting this in preference to any of the Jack & the Wattled Jacana Have a Staring Contest pics.

Learning Curve

17/365
2:17pm

Jack became fascinated with ice skating a couple weeks ago, and we finally got him up on blades at the Rolling Meadows Park District ice rink. John and I predicted seven minutes for the first outing, and we were pretty darn excited when Jack held to it for the whole 40 minutes left in open skate and went out for more on Sunday. For someone eternally cautious, he went at this with enthusiasm and determination.

I had the Elph in Chicago all weekend. I do think this shot could have been a lot better with the Rebel, but was happy I was able to show the Slow And Steady against the zippiness of seasoned skaters.

Brrrr....

16/365
5:12pm

When we left for Chicago on Friday, we grudgingly had to deal with temps hanging out somewhere around -3. We hit tundra-like patches along the way that pushed our car thermometer to read numbers in double digits below zero. I don't think I've taken a picture out of moving vehicle for a couple decades, but it was worth pulling out and giving it a whirl. The factory smoke is not particularly sharp and clear here , but that's not a characteristic I usually associate with, well, smoke. I put the Elph lens right up against the glass to avoid any glare, turned the flash off, focused on the stacks, and panned the scene. Still, I needed to crop the blurred fence posts and add some color saturation. The fences posts actually would have worked if they were a little more identifiable, but they looked messy and it took too much attention away from the rest of the shot.

Now, this is what's remarkable: Full on sunset at 5:12pm on the coldest day in a decade. Minute by minute, our days really are getting longer--even if we need a time stamp to prove it to us.

(Winter Is) For the Birds

15/365
10:09am
I jump at the opportunity to implement a disguised fine motor activity around here. Today, Jack and I made a cranberry-popcorn garland to put out on our Dogwood. I had month-old cranberries in the fridge, popcorn in the cupboard, and dental floss in the bathroom drawer (What? You haven't heard of Avian Gingivitis?). Jack recently sewed a winter hat as part of his arctic theme at school, so he was more adept with the needle and floss than I anticipated. Charlie was like a puppy around a dinner table the entire time, scooping up the busted, fragile kernels with glee. A hour later we had tender crimson fingers, a lonely pile of un-popped kernels, a faint minty fresh air quality, and less than a foot of a buffet line for our feathered friends. It seems the workers here eat more than they produce.

Scrunch

14/365
4:24pm

I'll spare the painful weather details around here. It's January in Wisconsin.....what do we expect? We don't live here for the winters--or frankly, even the springs. I'm hopeful to have one of those Reprieve From the Elements day sometime in February--you know, a balmy 50 degrees and all the crazy college kids break out their flip flops and John tries to get away with rolling the window down on the weekend errands. I'm usually totally against these teaser days, but I'd attempt a nice cartwheel for one anytime soon.

In the meantime, we huddle together and wear warm socks.

I used the Rebel, put it on the floor and set the timer.

Smoke Signals

13/365
6:34pm

These over-sized Scrabble-like magnets are an integral part of our kitchen decor. Day in and day out for about 4 years they get shuffled around in meaningful and not-so-meaningful ways. I'm not sure if I saw a colorful photo opportunity first, or was looking for a stealthy way of sending out an SOS (Save Our Sanity). I kinda got a kick out of asking John what message he would write, and it turned out to be the same as mine. We jest--all is well, we're just experiencing a little cabin fever.

Believe it or not, the shot took a little more work than it probably appears. There is a lot of different lighting in the kitchen and adjacent rooms, and I played around with keeping some on, turning some off, having long/short exposures, changing the white balance, etc...

Rinse, Lather, Repeat

12/365
Seemingly endless chunks of 30 seconds

I know, I know. I'm suppose to limit this to one single moment per day, but throwing this into a collage saves me four extra days of shooting darn near the exact view.

I'm not really ready to start potty training. And truthfully, neither is Charlie. Trust me. But how can you say no when your 22-month old says he wants to use the potty? I imagine that would be detrimental to the long-term process here. So he sits. Sings. Reads. Plays. Laughs. All done. We start over as soon he gets fully dressed again. Then again, what else do we have to do today? It's two whopping degrees out there; it's not like Wingra Park is calling our name (and if it is, we're not answering).

I used the tripod with only the light from the bathroom fixture, which is located high behind the door on the far right. The slippers could be sharper, but I needed to keep the shutter open just a titch longer in order to let in more light, and those busy legs can't keep still. At the very least, the crazy tiles (seriously, teal green?) and the footwear are not visually boring.

Serendipity

11/365
11:29am
I attempted to take some pictures of the full moon last night. I knew to use the tripod. I knew to set the ISO high. I knew to keep the shutter open for a long time. I even knew that using the timer would mean I would alleviate that fraction of second shake. Still, I was disappointed. I couldn't get a clear shot while keeping the shutter open for ten seconds because the clouds were moving too fast, and overall, it just didn't look that great. Whatever, I'm used to a lot of stuff not working out.

We went to Monona Terrace this morning to take advantage of their large, open, warm spaces to burn child-like energy and use two free tickets to the home show (again, the love/grrr...relationship I have with the house). I went out on the lower terrace and took about fifteen frames. I'm pretty much fascinated by the cracking ice plates on Lake Monona. They look like someone used a serrated knife from the inside of a giant Frozen Lake Cake and left ice crumbs around the edges.

I looked through the histograms on the way home, and immediately noticed that I had forgotten to change my ISO from last night's 800! Oh man! Once I loaded the pictures, however, the extremely visible high noise level in the shot actually worked! See, I also happen to find ice plates fairly ominous and well, a little eerie (and people walk on these! For the love of Pete!). The digital noise, with it's grainy, scary B-movie quality, should be throwing you a visual ba-dum, ba-dum that something dangerous could happen. Interestingly, I had this in color and it looked nearly the same as it does in B&W, but by converting it to B&W, I avoided some blotchiness that was occurring (again because of the high ISO). I think it gives it a 35mm high-speed film look, and now wish I would have taken the ISO to 1600. I'd like to say that this whole shot was intentional from start to finish, but truthfully it was just good, old-fashioned luck.

Uphill, Both Ways

10/365
2:33p.m.
We did two pretty fun things today, but I didn't feel like I could/should bring my camera to either. There is something to be said for being in the moment. Unfortunately, when you're behind the lens, you're not a participant. Birthdays, weddings, and Christmases are under-documented around here; I regularly rely on others to fill in the gaps.

So, I went to a Back Up Idea: John has been telling me about this strange guy tucked between a neighbor's evergreen and prairie grass well before we even knew of this project. It starting snowing about 10 seconds after I walked out the door. Framed it (and 6 others), shot it at 5.6, switched it to b/w, and posted it with very little to say. I wonder where he's going.

tex·ture (tĕks'chər)

9/365
11:12am

Texture n.

a. The appearance and feel of a surface
b. A rough or grainy surface quality

We walked through about 5" of fresh powder to pick up Jack from preschool today. The sled, however charmingly Rosebud-esque, is purely functional. Stroller companies should consider offering a snow plow attachment, like a sun shade, rain guard or mosquito netting, to folks living in more than a foot of snowfall per season. Otherwise, this is a pretty efficient way to travel on days like this.

Color-wise, the tans and browns in the brick offered a nice contrast to the sled's blond wood, cherry red seat, and golden rope. Of course, all of that was lost when I switched it to black and white, but I immediately saw three opposing, striking textures. Additionally, the horizontal and vertical lines became obvious, and played well with the airy, sweeping curve of snow against the building. I added some shadows and called it a day.

Misleading

8/365
4:33pm
This shot does not reflect our day. Sure, it was taken today, and this whole project thing is about one little snippet. But this moment doesn't illustrate ransacking a significant area in the children's section at the library. Or slipping on the ice and landing on my wrist. Or most of lunch jumping ship for the floor. Or the tug-of-war with today's newspaper before it was thoroughly read. Or the newly clean white laundry load pretending to be snowfall. And it certainly does not begin to convey what I saw when I took off my lens cap and found the lens shattered (thank God the filter took the hit). No, this quiet, calm moment between Charlie and Lou is the antithesis of our day, and what I would much rather remember.

Cumbersome

January 7, 2009
12:14pm
There are only a couple times a year I really considering moving from this house. Almost all of those moments occur in the winter. Well, there was that time in Spring 2003 with the bats living in the attic. One freed itself in the house at 3am and we had to Google "How To Get a Bat Out Of Your House at 3am" (on dial-up, no less) because we're fairly Type A and need to know the right way the first time, but I digress.....

Seriously, the backdoor is a huge moving factor for me. Rarely do you find a house circa 1917 with a mud room. So, we have four people, eight coats, three pairs of snow pants, nine hats, six pairs of boots/shoe combination, five scarves, one gator, a solid ten pairs of mittens, and a partridge in a pear tree all convening within 16" of stomping through the backdoor. I doubt it was a coincidence that I emailed our Realtor yesterday.

I took this on the Elph sans flash and used a kitchen stool as my tripod. The flash made all the reflectors on our gear shout out an assertive, "Hello there!" I forgot Charlie turned the camera on this morning and covered the entire lens with his fingerprint. Needless to say, this is far from tack sharp, but it is our messy, fingerprint-smudged, lovely life.

Back in Session

January 6, 2009
11:23am
We live approximately eight minutes from the Capitol. Surely, you'll be seeing several photographs of it because we attempt to leisurely stroll the Square more than average non-capital city living family. However, we skipped the official building today since the state legislature is back in session and the rotunda would likely be a crowded mass of suits with two boys rising above the chaos to hear their own echo. We made a bee line for the Children's Museum instead, and ran across this Capitol scale model and other Madison landmarks set in wooden block form. They found them to be just as interesting since they could actually drive their grimy, suspicious-looking, Matchbox-size recycling truck right up to the buildings' entrances and security didn't shoo them away.