My Partner’s Passion

My spouse has often wondered aloud whether she should be spending so much time on her photography. I think I’ve permanently damaged my eyes from two decades of rolling them. Photography is her bliss, of course she should follow it!

This week, she’ll be following her passion all the way to Japan. Woot! I get to stay home and be lazy. Double woot!

Now in case either of my readers are wondering about their own sweeties, here is my list of 10 reasons to suspect that one’s partner is passionate about photography.

1. You and your spouse together take the dogs for their afternoon walk. You always remember their scoop bags; she always remembers her camera.

2. The first thing she purchased for her trip to Japan was a weatherproof case holding 12 64gb memory cards.

3. On the third day, she arose from her desk chair, having chosen from among 200 possibilities the perfect camera-gear bag.

4. Her most frequently-used verb is “focus”.

5. She laughs in the face of snowstorms: they make excellent background for minimalist nature shots.

6. When typing online, she writes ISO more frequently than LOL.

7. She notices that one of your blog posts has no accompanying photo, so she helpfully emails you a few.

8. Her favourite colour is black-and-white.

9. She doesn’t notice a large gift, wrapped in pink and red tissue paper, sitting on her studio table (see #8 above).

10. Your pets are Bokeh the dog, F-Stop the cat, and Ansel and Adams the lovebirds.

Well all right, #10 exaggerates. But if you recognize five or more of these symptoms, you may well be living with a photographer.

#11. She crosses a busy highway to avoid overhead wires.
Taken by me on my iNonPhone.


Peanut Butter And…

…syrup. Not again?

On the plus side, I used up only two pounds of red currants — one bagful — and eight bags remain in the deep-freeze.

Took me three days this year to pick the darlings. The bushes love my backyard and progenize their little heads off, and since these currants aren’t native, the birds don’t eat them. So I pick them. And pick them. And pick them.

The few times I’ve tried making jelly, I got syrup instead. So today I found myself lamenting, “Three times a bridesmaid” more than once. Obviously that’s nonsense, I can always try again.

And again. And again. And again. And…

But I have faith that one of these days I will be SOOO proud of myself! That marvelous day, I will have eight lovely jars of jewel-like jelly to give away to all my friends.

Because by that time, I’ll be so sick of red currants I won’t eat a bite.

Ina’s jelly bag hung over the ceramic pour-spout bowl Angela gave us for our wedding attached to my applesauce-sieve framework by kitchen pins Gillian gave me for Christmas. It’s a community thing. Photo by me on my iNonPhone.

Writing Run-down

Dear Tucker,

You asked why I’ve started a blog, and I waxed incoherent. That’s the crux of it: I can’t marshal my thoughts fast enough while talking. Writing became my major means of expression starting when I was 12.

At 57, I do still try to converse. And fail. And when I fail, that’s when I look back at my writings and think, Wow, this is pretty sucky too. 

And so, with the caveat that I’m feeling blue today, here is a rundown of my five latest blog posts. You won’t read them, but nothing impedes me from pretending you will.

1. “A Quarter-millennium of Yum” : In this entry, my writing sucks — wrote too fast. Head down to the paragraph with the drop-cap A for the 1766 description of chowder.

2. “Rock Bottom” : Only marginally sucky writing. If you want to read the comments, just click below the yellow tags at the foot of the post, then hit the back button afterwards (but since you won’t visit the blog, let alone read the comments, please save yourself some time now by not reading this sentence I’ve just written).

3. “The Break” : About 600 words, should be edited for length, maybe drop half of them and then reduce it by a further 300 words.

4. “The Colourful Concertina” : My favourite, and it’ll be yours too, because it’s only 14 words long including title and tags.

5. “A Shelter for Theo” : a pun-laced story about my outdoor thermometer and the housing I built for it. My very least-sucky writing.

Amazing! Am starting to feel better, just by having written to you. Wonder if St Francis ever said, “Where there are blues, let me sow self-deprecating humour”?

Looking forward to our next kaffeeklatsch.

– Janet.

A Shelter For Theo

Theo Freeze, despite having only one hand, loved the outdoors.

You could find him hanging on a corner at any time of the day, always happy just to chill out and discuss the weather with you. “Cold, eh?” was his trademark greeting.

The secret to Theo’s confidence was his partner and sole supporter, Al Luminum. Theo knew that Al would always be around, no matter what.

But one tragic winter, Al lost it. Always a yielding personality, Al got increasingly bent out of shape, and then lost his grip altogether.

Suddenly, Theo was homeless. He spent weeks face-down in mourning, oblivious to all the acquaintances he had made over the years.

One of those friends, fortunately, was housebuilder Woody Ply. Woody contacted roofer Sid R Shake, and the pair got in touch with Jay Bee of Habitat for Thermomity. Plans were drawn up. Materials materialized.

Now Theo is back on his corner. Though still missing Al, who never recovered from his metal breakdown and left no forwarding address, Theo has a renewed faith in the kindness of others.

And he’s once again eager to discuss the weather.