Tag Archives: photography

PW Weekend: Charlie lets his hair down

After my disappointing photo shoot with Charlie on Saturday morning, he decided to come back . . . two more times.

He ambled into the Lodge halfway through our baking extravaganza, and a friend of Ree’s family tried to help me get a good shot. For the life of me I can’t remember her name . . . can anyone else?? She was such a lovely person and I totally want to check out her blog, but all I can remember is that it may have the word ‘ranch’ or ‘horse’ in it. Maybe. I can’t be sure of anything anymore.

Get your stinky hands off me, you weird lookin’ human.

“Look at the camera, Charlie!” I encouraged him a bright, cheerful voice.

“Right over here, Charlie!”

“No Charlie, look at the camera! Up here little buddy! C’mon!” I persisted.

“Charlie! I’m a human and you’re a dog! You’re supposed to obey me!”

I’m sorry, did you just say something?

So I gave up on the head shot and photographed his short and stubby legs instead.

I don’t see how he even gets around on those things.

After a while, Ree mopped the floor with him, and then he was outta there.

However, he returned Sunday morning before we headed out. Why aren’t you guys gone yet? he grumbled woefully. I’m tired of playing this gracious host role. The laundry alone will take me days! Ooh, is that a cat butt?

Your butt smells kinda good.

What kind of cologne do you use?


A couple dogs looked on with indifference.

I think the golden dog’s name is George.

All of a sudden, without warning, Charlie decided to stop playing Mr. nice guy.

I’m the king around here, he growled, and you guys just need to clear out once and for all.

He started attacking animals left and right.

And by ‘animals,’ I mostly mean George. George was completely unphased.

“George!” I cried “C’mon, you gotta defend yourself! Don’t let Charlie chomp on you!”

Don’t worry honey, he said as Charlie launched his weird oblong little body at George’s golden hide.

I appreciate your concern, but I take this kind of abuse every day.

George was starting to get bored with the whole thing, and eventually wandered off.

Charlie turned his attentions elsewhere.

This dog wasn’t going down without a fight.

George ambled back to try and mediate.

But even George couldn’t tame Charlie’s fighting fury.

George and I looked on from a safe distance.

This final photo shoot made the brown and purple bruise on my left knee worth every bit of swelling.

Winthrop and Nelson, however, were unimpressed.

All I want for Christmas . . .

No, it’s not “you” or “my two front teeth,” though if you promise to scrub and wax my kitchen floor until it’s shining I may reconsider. It’s this lens. This triumph of photographic technology.

The 50mm f/1.8 lens. Yes, I’d like the 1.4 lens, but since it’s about 4 gazillion times as expensive, I’ll make do with this lovely object. I was about to commend my own frugality, but then I remembered that I already have two lenses . . . and so even purchasing a third lens might not put me in the category of a Scrimpin’ Sally.

So why do I want this lens? Well, its aperture potential is much wider than my current lenses, and a lens with a wider opening means more light comes in, which means I can capture better pictures in low-light situations and get better bokeh . . . and I’ve heard it’s great for portraits and food photography, which are my favorite things to do.

Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaassseeeeeeeee????? Saaaaantaaaa? Let me tell you how good I’ve been this year:

-I didn’t hit Scrimpin’ Sally

-I didn’t make fun of Picky Polly

-I may have taken out the trash once . . . oh wait, that was last year

Arncha proud of me??

(I know neither a Sally nor a Polly, but I’m banking on the fact that Santa has poor eyesight, a bad memory, is generally behind the times, and enjoys it when I use words like “arncha” since it makes me sound like an annoying little girl from a ’50s sitcom, when Santa was in his prime)

That Santa–it’s like he’s not even grounded in reality anymore.

Of course, some more Burts Bees products, bottles of Lestoil, tubs of Noxzema, or buckets of Vick’s VapoRub could all help me with my sniffing problems. Help feed them, I mean. Have you ever stuck your nose in a tub of Vick’s? Oh, how I pity those of you who haven’t. I bet Santa is a huuuuge Vicks addict, what with living in the North Pole and all. He probably has a constant runny nose and rubs Vicks all over his hairy, wrinkled chest every night.

Ew. Let’s keep Santa fully clothed for the remainder of this post.

And now that I’m thinking about presents, a couple more Jeffery Farnol novels couldn’t hurt, just so I don’t wear the cover off of Winds of Chance. Nope, they couldn’t hurt one bit.

Until we move to a different apartment and that last box of Farnol novels going up the steps herniates something or someone.

I’m also very bad to my skin and regularly fail to use make-up remover before going to bed . . . or moisturizer for that matter . . . so I could use some Clinique “Take the Day Off” remover and some of that yellow moisturizer my sister Erica swears by (and I steal every time we’re together) . . .

Oh yeah, there’s always the fabled microplane zester that everyone has been extoling on their blogs for about 10 years. I’m so behind the times, man . . .

. . . or a bunch of great clothes that make me look a) more curvaceous on top, b) less curvaceous on the bottom, and c) make my eyes look bigger and my skin look smoother. In general, I’m going for a combination of Kate Moss and Marilyn Monroe. Both skinny, and also curvaceous; there’s got to be a way to have it all. Santa? Hello? Santa?

Hmmm, we seem to have lost the big red-suited fat man. Maybe he doesn’t know who Kate Moss is–too modern. He’s stuck in the past, the old geezer.

What’s on your Christmas list this year?