Dear readers,

I haven’t written to you much because life has become quite busy
these last weeks of summer.

I’ve been finishing up a couple of
projects at work, and just when I think I’ve got them done,
another thing pops up. It’s a little bit like trying to fit an
octopus into a shoebox – sure, it will go, as soon as you get all
of the arms in the box.

Still finding it hard to adjust to being so independent. That’s
kind of a sad thing, really, that I’m so used to someone telling
me what to do that it’s hard finding things to do on my own.

I not only entered three images in the fair again this year (as I
have for the past couple of years), I also arranged to be at “Shoot
the Fair” night with EPS, and volunteered to staff the photo
exhibit and answer questions about the club. Two of my three
pictures won “Honorable Mention” in their category – there was some
strong competition – and one of those two also received a special
award which I have yet to use.

And then there’s the fun stuff – I’ve been learning portrait
photography, and have found that I’m fairly good at it. That’s a
lovely thing, and with a little bit of practice, maybe I can start
taking people up on it when they suggest that their
third-cousin-once-removed needs engagement shots. It’s a bit of a
surprise when I try a shot or a pose that seems interesting, and
the group I’m with – all photographers at least as experienced as
I am – all tell me how creative that is. I’m working up a
portfolio/gallery of images to go here soon – perhaps with the long
weekend coming up, I might be able to find some time to work on it
then. I’m still thinking about pricing – whether to offer a per
hour price or a per-image price that covers the time. Or a
combination, which might make the most sense.

We had our last practice session last night, with the daughters of
another club member as our models. They were great to work with,
and we got some great images. However, on our way back to the car,
I must have smiled wrong or something, because out of nowhere comes
this pissed off yellow jacket, who landed on my nose, held on for
dear life (causing a fair amount of pain, I might add), allowed
itself to be chased to my hair, and finally left. Thankfully, the
quick intervention of some ice and some anti-histimines seems to
have prevented my nose from swelling up like a clown. I think I
begin to understand what the late Douglas Adams was trying to
express with the hunting of Arthur by whatever it was that had been
the bowl of geraniums. I’m forced to believe that this wasp had
been a bowl of geraniums in a former life, and was convinced that I
was responsible for its demise via whale. Or something like that.
Perhaps my nose offended it. Who knows?