Randoms...

1. This is published post #50. I congratulate myself for getting ridiculously hooked on something I said I'd never do.

2. My 'unique visitors' hit counter is at 27 after only 3 days. There are a few explanations for this:
a) its not working properly.
b) The 6 people I can think of who might bother to read this are reading from an average of 4 different computers each - wow! That's loyalty right there.
c) More people are stalking me than I realized. I'm not sure how I feel about that...
If I take all these blog posts and bind them into a book, would people pay money for them?
And for the love of all things Good and Holy, feel free to leave a comment once in awhile!

3. I'm hopelessly addicted to reading the Diary of one Bob T Bear (esq). Once you get your head around his 'Bear English', remembering that he's spelling phonetically with an 'Oirish' (Irish) accent, its really great! There's nothing more simply entertaining than experiencing the world from the view of an 8" teddy bear. Plus, he talks a lot about poo and that's just funny (he's a bear, what do ya expect?!). I hope there's never a time in my life when I 'grow up' and lose my imaginative love for the personification of inanimate objects. Maybe I missed my calling... Maybe I should go work for The Jim Henson Company.

4. Our 11 year old newspaper girl knocked on the door at work this afternoon looking for a bandaid because some dumb dog across the street bit her. CALL THE NEWSPAPER!! OH MY GOODNESS!!! To be fair to the dog, the story that eventually came out sounded something like this: little kid at home alone with a small dog, possibly a puppy, strange newspaper girl comes to door, dog gets excited, jumps up on girl, somehow snags a tooth on girl's arm leaving a 2" long scratch with some minor bleeding under the skin. THIS IS NOTHING TO AN 11 YEAR OLD! Holy Cow! When I was that age, if I didn't have a multitude of scratches or bruises or bumps or slivers, there was something wrong. And this 11 year old was no different, all she wanted was a bandaid; actually, she asked for a kleenex.
Enter the adults. Fine-thinking lot. Is it really an advancement of society to ingrain into our minds words like 'report', 'SPCA', 'hospital', 'tetanus shot', 'emergency', 'call your parents right now' for a bruise on a kid's arm? I mean, really... simmer down people. It'll be ok.
If you really want something to talk about, lets talk about the part where this workplace did not have any peroxide in it's sorry excuse for a first aid kit so we just poured scotch on the kid's arm instead! Now THERE's a story to tell your grandkids! "Did I ever tell you about the time", she'll say, "when I had a priest pour scotch on my arm in the church parking lot. Those were the good ol' days.."

5. Some dirty rat of a boy keeps dropping a sly little word into my vocabulary; one I don't necessarily want to think about, but it keeps popping up: SLR. *sigh* SLR is the epitome of photography at its finest. To invest in an SLR is to embrace photography, not as just casual picture taking, but as an art. It comes with reverent respect, the odd jealous glance from passers-by, and, worst of all: expectation. Expectation of skill and knowledge and beautiful photographs. I'm not sure that there's another consumer product on the shelf with such weighty expectations as those. Its a lot of pressure.
I'm pretty opinionated on the subject of photography. I have enough photographic opinion jumbled around in my head right now to write an entire series of lengthy blog posts (if not a book) about the subject. ...Actually, I'm not sure why I've never written about photography before now. Ooh, you're in for a treat!