Wow... Just... Wow.
I can't even put into words how I feel right now.
So, if you'll excuse me, I have to go tip my car over.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Photo Corner - Fun with IR
A few weeks back, I read an article about shooting foliage pictures using infrared film. It's kinda like an enhanced black and white... it gives everything a cool look to it. I got all excited. Then I drove all over the place looking for IR film, but nobody around here had it.
However, I did find a Photoshop plugin that gives your digital photos almost the same effect. It seems to work really well on high contrast pictures with a lot of red and green. Here's some examples.
Leaf
IR Leaf
Tree
IR Tree
A few weeks back, I read an article about shooting foliage pictures using infrared film. It's kinda like an enhanced black and white... it gives everything a cool look to it. I got all excited. Then I drove all over the place looking for IR film, but nobody around here had it.
However, I did find a Photoshop plugin that gives your digital photos almost the same effect. It seems to work really well on high contrast pictures with a lot of red and green. Here's some examples.
Leaf
IR Leaf
Tree
IR Tree
Friday, October 22, 2004
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Quick Thoughts
The foliage has been amazing this year.
Does that piece of blueberry pie I just ate count toward my 5 servings of fruit a day? Because that would make things a lot easier.
We picked out our wedding bands last weekend... This is starting to get serious...
I haven't written anything about pooping in a while.
The foliage has been amazing this year.
Does that piece of blueberry pie I just ate count toward my 5 servings of fruit a day? Because that would make things a lot easier.
We picked out our wedding bands last weekend... This is starting to get serious...
I haven't written anything about pooping in a while.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
I submitted this as well, but I don't think they're going to run it.
True Believer
I am finding out that a big part of who I am as an adult is a reflection of my upbringing. The more I look around at my peers, the more I can see it in other people as well. You can tell which people came from deeply religious households or politically active families. Me? I grew up in a sports house.
I’m from a football-baseball-basketball family. We always root for the local teams, even during the tough times. The losing years make the winning years that much more special. Back in the 80’s, the holy trinity in our house consisted of Bird, McHale and Parish. We have been lucky enough to reach the Promised Land with multiple championships from both the Patriots and the Celtics within my lifetime.
Out of all the local teams, it is the Red Sox to which we have devoted far and away the most mental and emotional energy. And yet it is this team that has rewarded us the least. Eighty-six years since our last championship? Are you (bleeping) kidding me? Why would anyone put up with this? Think about how many people have lived and died within that time and never saw the Red Sox win a World Series.
It is not just the games they have lost… it is HOW they have lost them. Late season collapses… Painful playoff losses… So many times they have snatched defeat out of the hands of near certain victory. The loss to the Yankees in game 7 of the ALCS last year hit me like a punch to the stomach. I was devastated for about a week.
So why bother? Why let them ruin every summer? Why let your heart get ripped out and get sopmed on fall after fall? Well, they DO put a quality product on the field every season. They're not the Milwaukee Brewers. They're almost always competitive. And again, watching the Sox was a big part of my upbringing. I can't remember too many family gatherings between Easter and Columbus Day where there wasn't a baseball game on. By Memorial day, we were cautiously optimistic. Strategies were discussed at length. Every decision of the manager was closely scrutinzed. On the Fourth of July, we were either feeling downright cocky about our team or calling for the manager's head (and is there a tougher job in all of New England than manager of the Boston Red Sox?). By Labor Day, we either had pennant fever or we were saying, "wait until next year."
Following the Red Sox is a lot like being in a cult. The bonds between the Red Sox and their believers are the strongest in all of sports. And sometimes, faith means believing in something you cannot see. If you couldn’t convince yourself that “this is the year” every spring, it wouldn’t be much fun being a Red Sox fan.
True Believer
I am finding out that a big part of who I am as an adult is a reflection of my upbringing. The more I look around at my peers, the more I can see it in other people as well. You can tell which people came from deeply religious households or politically active families. Me? I grew up in a sports house.
I’m from a football-baseball-basketball family. We always root for the local teams, even during the tough times. The losing years make the winning years that much more special. Back in the 80’s, the holy trinity in our house consisted of Bird, McHale and Parish. We have been lucky enough to reach the Promised Land with multiple championships from both the Patriots and the Celtics within my lifetime.
Out of all the local teams, it is the Red Sox to which we have devoted far and away the most mental and emotional energy. And yet it is this team that has rewarded us the least. Eighty-six years since our last championship? Are you (bleeping) kidding me? Why would anyone put up with this? Think about how many people have lived and died within that time and never saw the Red Sox win a World Series.
It is not just the games they have lost… it is HOW they have lost them. Late season collapses… Painful playoff losses… So many times they have snatched defeat out of the hands of near certain victory. The loss to the Yankees in game 7 of the ALCS last year hit me like a punch to the stomach. I was devastated for about a week.
So why bother? Why let them ruin every summer? Why let your heart get ripped out and get sopmed on fall after fall? Well, they DO put a quality product on the field every season. They're not the Milwaukee Brewers. They're almost always competitive. And again, watching the Sox was a big part of my upbringing. I can't remember too many family gatherings between Easter and Columbus Day where there wasn't a baseball game on. By Memorial day, we were cautiously optimistic. Strategies were discussed at length. Every decision of the manager was closely scrutinzed. On the Fourth of July, we were either feeling downright cocky about our team or calling for the manager's head (and is there a tougher job in all of New England than manager of the Boston Red Sox?). By Labor Day, we either had pennant fever or we were saying, "wait until next year."
Following the Red Sox is a lot like being in a cult. The bonds between the Red Sox and their believers are the strongest in all of sports. And sometimes, faith means believing in something you cannot see. If you couldn’t convince yourself that “this is the year” every spring, it wouldn’t be much fun being a Red Sox fan.
Will this be the team that washes away the sins of seasons past? Is this a championship caliber team? I honestly don’t know. But nobody else out there really scares me right now. We’ve lost a bit of our August momentum, but it’s good to know that we’re capable of playing on that high a level. Besides, one of these years when they do finally win the big one, Boston will be the biggest party you’ve ever seen (maybe next year at this time we’ll be adding Schilling, Ramirez and Ortiz to the Boston sports pantheon…). The entire country will hear the collective sigh of relief from generations of Red Sox fans when they finally win the big one. Until then, you’ve got to believe.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
It's been about four years... We've been through a lot together... Any relationship like this requires a certain amount of maintenance, but this one has actually needed much less work than I originally anticipated up to this point.
Of course, I'm talking about my car. I passed 100,000 miles earlier today. Sigh.
Here's to four more years.
Of course, I'm talking about my car. I passed 100,000 miles earlier today. Sigh.
Here's to four more years.
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
I'm thinking of submitting this one to "This American Life"...
“Dude, she’s a stripper.”
“She’s not a stripper.”
“I’m telling you, she’s a stripper. She even smells like a stripper.”
That part was true… She DID smell like a stripper.
We had stopped at Boston Market for a late lunch. We weren’t too familiar with the area we were in, so a chain restaurant sounded just fine.
Now, there were several strip clubs in the area… so maybe I was just a little over-sensitized to the issue. But the girl in line in front of us definitely looked the part. She was tall and curvy (but not too curvy) and somehow managed to make a pair of sweat pants look slutty.
And the smell... I don’t know if it’s a perfume, hand cream or a whole line of beauty products just for strippers. But they all smell like that. The only way I can describe it is a “girlie bubblegum” smell.
Now, making the “stripper / not a stripper” game even tougher was the fact that she was there with another guy (we assumed it was her boyfriend), thus making unobtrusive small talk nearly impossible. We continued our debate in hushed tones.
“She’s totally a stripper.”
“She’s not a stripper.”
I really didn’t have much to base my argument on… especially these days, when almost every girl looks like a stripper. But my gut was telling me I was right. I was afraid we would never be able to settle this disagreement one-way or the other. And then the girl and her companion reached the front of the line.
And she paid for both of them...
With a big stack of ones.
I looked back my friend to make sure he was seeing what I was seeing.
“She’s a stripper,” I said. Trying not to sound too smug.
“Yeah,” my buddy finally agreed with me.
“Or a ridiculously hot waitress...”
“Dude, she’s a stripper.”
“She’s not a stripper.”
“I’m telling you, she’s a stripper. She even smells like a stripper.”
That part was true… She DID smell like a stripper.
We had stopped at Boston Market for a late lunch. We weren’t too familiar with the area we were in, so a chain restaurant sounded just fine.
Now, there were several strip clubs in the area… so maybe I was just a little over-sensitized to the issue. But the girl in line in front of us definitely looked the part. She was tall and curvy (but not too curvy) and somehow managed to make a pair of sweat pants look slutty.
And the smell... I don’t know if it’s a perfume, hand cream or a whole line of beauty products just for strippers. But they all smell like that. The only way I can describe it is a “girlie bubblegum” smell.
Now, making the “stripper / not a stripper” game even tougher was the fact that she was there with another guy (we assumed it was her boyfriend), thus making unobtrusive small talk nearly impossible. We continued our debate in hushed tones.
“She’s totally a stripper.”
“She’s not a stripper.”
I really didn’t have much to base my argument on… especially these days, when almost every girl looks like a stripper. But my gut was telling me I was right. I was afraid we would never be able to settle this disagreement one-way or the other. And then the girl and her companion reached the front of the line.
And she paid for both of them...
With a big stack of ones.
I looked back my friend to make sure he was seeing what I was seeing.
“She’s a stripper,” I said. Trying not to sound too smug.
“Yeah,” my buddy finally agreed with me.
“Or a ridiculously hot waitress...”
Sunday, October 03, 2004
My Life.
Sometimes I feel bad about some of the things in my life. I think about mistakes I've made. I think about paths not taken. And I think about situations I could have handled differently or people's feelings I may have hurt.
Then I remember that I still have all my hair. And I suddenly feel much better about things.
Sometimes I feel bad about some of the things in my life. I think about mistakes I've made. I think about paths not taken. And I think about situations I could have handled differently or people's feelings I may have hurt.
Then I remember that I still have all my hair. And I suddenly feel much better about things.
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