tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82929879699002496992024-03-05T13:20:59.835-08:00Book, Cook & Hook NomadEternally looking for the perfect book, the perfect recipe and the perfect yarn.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger242125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-79265771945800665982015-07-12T08:23:00.001-07:002015-07-12T08:23:59.432-07:00Top 4: Reasons to Use a Travel AgentDisclosure: I'm a librarian. I do research for a living and for over 20 years I have researched all of our trips and done a fine job. So, using a travel agent wasn't on my mind. I was really surprised at how helpful it was to have someone else take the research burden off my plate.<br />
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<h2>
Reason 1: To Manage YOUR Time More Effectively</h2>
However, one of the reasons to use a travel agent is so YOU don't have to do the planning and the research. This year, work was overwhelming. I mean, it is always a whirlwind, but added to that, I was our association's president and our association was going to have its annual conference in our city, and I was co-chair of the planning committee. I was a little stressed. Vacations were going to have to take a back seat. Someone else was going to have plan it for me.<br />
<h3>
Who Do You Choose?</h3>
<div>
The first thing you want to do is find a travel agent who you can talk to and who you enjoy working with. You and your travel agent will be phoning, texting and emailing, so trust is essential. Also, if you don't get their sense of humor or find if you find them annoying, you are not going to have a good time planning your trip and remember, you need to plan months in advance (at least I do). So, if their personality doesn't gel with yours, move on and find someone else. Fortunately for me, I had Chip at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/OceansAndLands">Oceans and Lands Custom Travel Planners</a>. <br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXE1JvZXvc0uZ3d-RgDUkgYWbFu7ImNhyphenhyphenubrO17b-lo4aa4avP_kkcBPp1nxp5SLrrODWCpyv4nIq5izlAQTdU8eQjFo5NGHXgOgziE0JmLbWyxinJViHD3tNv_j9OIYFuptNw_FNISU/s1600/chipbarker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXE1JvZXvc0uZ3d-RgDUkgYWbFu7ImNhyphenhyphenubrO17b-lo4aa4avP_kkcBPp1nxp5SLrrODWCpyv4nIq5izlAQTdU8eQjFo5NGHXgOgziE0JmLbWyxinJViHD3tNv_j9OIYFuptNw_FNISU/s320/chipbarker.jpg" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">My travel agent Chip Barker, he looks a bit angelic here, but don't let that throw you. He works miracles.</td></tr>
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Funny, sweet and uber helpful, he was the perfect match.<br />
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<a href="https://scontent-atl1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/1476473_670514482980259_1789962915_n.jpg?oh=a58183bada3e5a81cb305a49821eb57b&oe=565BA8CE" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://scontent-atl1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/1476473_670514482980259_1789962915_n.jpg?oh=a58183bada3e5a81cb305a49821eb57b&oe=565BA8CE" width="320" /></a></div>
<h2>
Reason 2: Are You Going Someplace Odd, Travel Agents Are Helpful with the Odd</h2>
<h2>
<div style="font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">
Chip had his work cut out for him because we had asked for our trip to fly into Edinburgh then we wanted to drive to the Isle of Skye, spend some time and then drive to the Orkneys and spend some time. Oh, and we had 10 days. Work your magic. Of course, we had no idea of the distances. And poor Chip, I had sent him this crazy ass itinerary that I found for a 16 day itinerary as an example meaning, this is Skye and Orkney, we want to go only to those places...but did I say that? No. So, for two days Chip was thinking, How do I get these people into all of these places in 10 days? Then we talked. He was relieved. All was good.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEy5Pl2SaqbrMoxKDU1-EMaL9dQRJuwqPTgLfVvOEiuATVqU-GmZtWF6nQkzzAna_lkHMTvhA3WMWZdwglDxrsIZb2Rv1N5s286ZzJsMpS7EZuilOp_VT7tKg5eggs92CTsf7WJOkpiF8/s1600/map_of_scotland.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEy5Pl2SaqbrMoxKDU1-EMaL9dQRJuwqPTgLfVvOEiuATVqU-GmZtWF6nQkzzAna_lkHMTvhA3WMWZdwglDxrsIZb2Rv1N5s286ZzJsMpS7EZuilOp_VT7tKg5eggs92CTsf7WJOkpiF8/s320/map_of_scotland.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Our approx. route: Edinburgh to Skye off to the left and then up to Orkney. Then it would have been straight back to Edinburgh skipping Skye on the way back. Only 8.5 hours to drive back.</td></tr>
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<div style="font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">
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<div style="font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">
See why I say it is crucial to have a travel agent who is on the same page and who you have a good working relationship with? Instead of drop kicking me out the window, Chip started asking me lots of questions (rather like a good reference librarian 8-), like, how many days did we want to stay in each place? Did we want a rental? Automatic? This is very important because automatics require booking ahead and reserving. Most people don't have automatics there. And they don't have air conditioning, which Chip also got for us. And a GPS (mandatory for international, IMHO). </div>
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<div style="font-size: medium; font-weight: normal;">
Not only did Chip do the usual car rental, air fare, but he also figured our all of Scotland's confusing ferry system for us and got us booked and paid for to and from Orkney as well as reservations on two ferries to two different islands for scenic trips, which was a major hassle. Certain ferries only take people where other ferries will take people AND cars. But the website will let you make a reservation for ALL of them. GRRRR. Leave it to Chip to figure it all out for us!</div>
</h2>
<h2>
Reason 3: Quality of Accommodation Is Maintained</h2>
<div>
Since this was a vacation where we were staying in three different spots (Edinburgh, Skye and Orkney), it would have been easy for me to just look up three B&Bs, book them and then be done with it. In fact that's what I did last time we went to Scotland and England. And let me tell you the difference between my bookings and Chip's bookings:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Quality of accomodation</b>. I thought I was concerned with that as well. But my places were all over the place in terms of size and quality. In one, we literally couldn't open up a suitcase and open the door to the room. Chip's list on the other hand maintained a consistent size of room and quality of furnishings and sundries. Additionally, the service was always top notch. </div>
<div>
<h3>
Scottish B&Bs</h3>
</div>
<div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-aGvcla_IvqY-faQcnHp3FTZEcrvROj8Z2eNSMKFagOKiGvlJ11g1DydO1g_4Fobl12M51u36f_hIAamKp94-duqU0jwU7jX7_2RjtGqndo-Znf4K9eNsMp3F4S2_fbc98oCHsKF8J8/s1600/IMG_8190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-aGvcla_IvqY-faQcnHp3FTZEcrvROj8Z2eNSMKFagOKiGvlJ11g1DydO1g_4Fobl12M51u36f_hIAamKp94-duqU0jwU7jX7_2RjtGqndo-Znf4K9eNsMp3F4S2_fbc98oCHsKF8J8/s320/IMG_8190.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">The view from our room in Skye at the Duisdale House.</td></tr>
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Checking into the Duisdale House was great. We were greeted by a lovely water view, which also happened to be the view out our bedroom window.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglK2OcegXL-T5-GAXkj5RvvsOqHYyOIMj9ULZ5_7415wn3pNp40H_a9-2Hv6vo9kjj2PC2yfpVwtja0S7lD5aNGt30iitOjiLTkCYLKufLUx-BxP07FRIMAog432WyEOhAm3vyba4KzVU/s1600/IMG_8191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglK2OcegXL-T5-GAXkj5RvvsOqHYyOIMj9ULZ5_7415wn3pNp40H_a9-2Hv6vo9kjj2PC2yfpVwtja0S7lD5aNGt30iitOjiLTkCYLKufLUx-BxP07FRIMAog432WyEOhAm3vyba4KzVU/s320/IMG_8191.jpg" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">The Duisdale House</td></tr>
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Duisdale House itself was very well maintained and charming.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuYhjfXWmEBn-NwT37fbdyD-frZga5RpEHXaIYbBG3pEz7RCsF00Lkn5JVCm3Lys4rqeCNW_S6sDnKBCT3IvqqHIC4h6KhuNWoqtscSQXJAZbQ9RxygcyU1acXUveHun-fXAfZeC-p25Y/s1600/IMG_8199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuYhjfXWmEBn-NwT37fbdyD-frZga5RpEHXaIYbBG3pEz7RCsF00Lkn5JVCm3Lys4rqeCNW_S6sDnKBCT3IvqqHIC4h6KhuNWoqtscSQXJAZbQ9RxygcyU1acXUveHun-fXAfZeC-p25Y/s320/IMG_8199.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Our lovely and comfy bed at the Duisdale House.</td></tr>
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Our room was extra cozy, with a four-poster bed, down comforter and the largest bathroom. It was super.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtp0U8p6Jys-sw3JbRX6XkN_2JcuLq9r7nQVwU100cQPcYngOn6cFygC3y_RGDE8k4O8CK4qM1VdO6GCNYcIhrJ3VmSxA5V-Eii2jW1Efdt59HnY433l2oM3XjaxdoAChhqcCiwEPn3BY/s1600/IMG_8266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtp0U8p6Jys-sw3JbRX6XkN_2JcuLq9r7nQVwU100cQPcYngOn6cFygC3y_RGDE8k4O8CK4qM1VdO6GCNYcIhrJ3VmSxA5V-Eii2jW1Efdt59HnY433l2oM3XjaxdoAChhqcCiwEPn3BY/s320/IMG_8266.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">The amazing garden view from our B&B The Quoy at Houton in Orkney.</td></tr>
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The Quoy at Houton was a luxury B&B. The service here was at least at a 6 star level. The gardens were fabulous, the room was so sweet and comfortable and our yummy breakfast was on fine china with crystal. <br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rF689EneTTTd_ER_LSzNnRWZf3jyU7i1PMOf1nT-Bf_BOq0ZfL1YNMTs__RM0_KFQMWXiK36_zv6i3ksdWKmGhT3UtCcLC9VBgBLZvtUrtFKZCQ8Cjgzhzb_3CHjH8Ksc_HrLfTHg50/s1600/IMG_8268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rF689EneTTTd_ER_LSzNnRWZf3jyU7i1PMOf1nT-Bf_BOq0ZfL1YNMTs__RM0_KFQMWXiK36_zv6i3ksdWKmGhT3UtCcLC9VBgBLZvtUrtFKZCQ8Cjgzhzb_3CHjH8Ksc_HrLfTHg50/s320/IMG_8268.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Here's a view of the house where our room was. We were on the second floor on the right.<br /> Lovely view, amazing room, and the best service we have EVER had.</td></tr>
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It was all so relaxing, you didn't want to leave.<br />
<h3>
Are You Really Communicating?</h3>
<div>
</div>
There was one hiccup. And it was my fault. My husband said that he wanted a hotel close to the airport for our last night. He meant extremely close, as in almost walking distance, turn the rental in and take a taxi close. I didn't really understand that desire. The turn the taxi in bit. So when Chip and I were talking about the last night and he said he had found a great place Melville Castle, I said, Fred wants to be close to the airport. Chip said the hotel was near the airport. <br />
<br />
At this point, Fred and I aren't communicating and Chip and I aren't communicating and I am the one who needs to be in charge of defining terms. What is near? What is close? And I let it go. It's on me. You need to be sure that all of these places are where you want them to be. And you need to double check with the people you are traveling with that their needs are being met as well. Don't wait until the end, or the end of the trip. Fred drove 1300 miles on the other side of the road and was stressed and wanted it to end. My advice is to make sure that you know what your partners real fears and anxieties are. I didn't realize that he was so stressed about driving. I was a bit too carefree about it. The last hotel was the only one that looked great on the outside, was roomy on the inside and yet, was not updated. Everything else was amazing.<br />
<h2>
Reason 4: Organization - All Confirmations in One Place</h2>
</div>
When Chip had it all finished for us, he sent me a document that had all of our ticket info, our ferry confirmations, our hotel confirmations and a day by day itinerary with links to maps on how to get to each place along with space to write in daily activities. It was a trip planning document, perfect for the obsessive organizer that I am. Everything was at my fingertips.<br />
<br />
By this time, I had time to do some planning and I was able to take that doc and then plan all of my restaurants and side visits to museums and sights around town. It was so helpful to have everything else worked out. <br />
<br />
All in all Fred drove 1300 miles in a country that is breathtakingly gorgeous. We stayed in gorgeous places, ate great food and visited castles, museums and 5,000 year old monuments that were just outrageous. It wouldn't have been as smooth and as nice a trip without the hard work that Chip did for us. If you would like to see our photo album, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/cdmclean/media_set?set=a.10153535077687668.1073741885.719357667&type=3">just click here.</a> If you haven't tried a travel agent in a while, I recommend it. You can leave the big stuff to them and plan the little stuff like restaurants, museums, etc. If things go wrong, you have someone to call.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-51926546710362569202015-04-25T14:24:00.000-07:002015-04-25T14:25:18.017-07:00What NOT to Wear When Hiking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When we went to Santa Fe, one of the things we wanted to do was go on a hike. We usually go to Tent Rocks, but we wanted to try someplace new, so we asked my friend Catherine for some advice.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjFFC4Cae80iuf-EtpxgKXRyD3AwCQvz-8BAvRWbmj80oGOf4n5ZgeJfotgQdGBewT8tf9qcnVI-8D94A1mrR4ArQoWpcUGr7im7sjc_KZG2hqK0jOqsZHRD_c0ZmuVxHRcB_TUKWIo0/s1600/IMG_6761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjFFC4Cae80iuf-EtpxgKXRyD3AwCQvz-8BAvRWbmj80oGOf4n5ZgeJfotgQdGBewT8tf9qcnVI-8D94A1mrR4ArQoWpcUGr7im7sjc_KZG2hqK0jOqsZHRD_c0ZmuVxHRcB_TUKWIo0/s1600/IMG_6761.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catherine and I at her library at Santa Fe Prep.</td></tr>
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Now, you might notice that Catherine is very fit and athletic. When I asked Catherine for some advice on trails, I figured she would look at me and take notice of my general shape and remember my eating habits (we did just eat lunch and I did just have a milk shake and split fries with her). But no, she looked at Fred and saw his slender hiking frame and super hiker fitness level and remembered that he had ordered the super skinny yogurt man meal or whatever something that isn't fried and isn't greasy and is good for you is called these days.<br />
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"Why don't you try the Chamisa trail? It is a nice hike and has some elevations and some great views," she said. Did you notice how she snuck those elevations in there? I didn't. I really didn't. <br />
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"Sounds lovely," I said. I was thinking about my green chile cheeseburger and how good the fries were and if Fred would want to go back and get some more. Probably not.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDvkOZTSIpLhMo3NzEPkejaQeU0xxU4nGl9SoVxrLy33Zm4T0WLXBXU_XOpy2gmGhxZDhsUGUTFdVJy23QgnEGcFKhQ2AZekxfKcCfUua3bzFclKcMERkoZqRCERzt-B1W2GotLaHCoQ/s1600/IMG_7410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDvkOZTSIpLhMo3NzEPkejaQeU0xxU4nGl9SoVxrLy33Zm4T0WLXBXU_XOpy2gmGhxZDhsUGUTFdVJy23QgnEGcFKhQ2AZekxfKcCfUua3bzFclKcMERkoZqRCERzt-B1W2GotLaHCoQ/s1600/IMG_7410.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred on the Chamisa Trail.</td></tr>
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So, the next day, we got ready for a nice hike. I put together my outfit and Fred put on his hiking clothes.<br />
<br />
After about 10 minutes in the car, I asked, "How far up do you think this trail is?"<br />
<br />
We had been driving up a road to the ski trail and the road just kept going up and up and up. We hadn't seen our trail yet. <br />
<br />
"Keep going," Fred said. We kept going. <br />
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At 7800 ft, we found the sign for Chamisa Trail. Remember, we live at sea level. We don't have mountains we were are. Fifty feet above sea level is considered a big deal. Really. Don't laugh. I live on a mountain. It's 50 ft above sea level. I get winded walking up to it. <br />
<br />
"Ah. 7800 feet. This will be interesting."<br />
<br />
I pull over and we get out of the car. There are several cars parked on both sides of the road indicating what a popular trail this is. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0S0YSSrJjXa27Caj00k6KXmYdUjV7pcf5B_fql0_imLXIGYxOtKv5EMuNZkQbuNIfLvTXyQ8VLq1nOmRSwd9e7H9Pz9VJEHps6bEakjOGisVhDkMpbIFLwJHo9AgTlmV4ePMNJWFfGM/s1600/IMG_7413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0S0YSSrJjXa27Caj00k6KXmYdUjV7pcf5B_fql0_imLXIGYxOtKv5EMuNZkQbuNIfLvTXyQ8VLq1nOmRSwd9e7H9Pz9VJEHps6bEakjOGisVhDkMpbIFLwJHo9AgTlmV4ePMNJWFfGM/s1600/IMG_7413.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chamisa Trail, a ravine on the left and mountain on the right. Trees all around.</td></tr>
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We begin to walk up the trail. And I do mean walk UP the trail. It is all uphill. I'm wheezing and panting and sounding like a wounded bear and we haven't even rounded the first bend. As we turn the corner, we see this young family approaching. The dad is carrying his two daughters, one is in his arms and the other is on his back. As they get closer, it appears that these girls are IN MIDDLE SCHOOL. <br />
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What is wrong with this trail that even young children can't handle it?!!<br />
<br />
I look at the dad and say, "Tough hike."<br />
<br />
"Don't I know it." He plods forward. His wife comes after with a baby in a baby sack in front of her. She is smiling. How far did you walk, I want to ask, but they are past us and it is too late.<br />
<br />
I turn to Fred. "We don't have water!"<br />
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"What?"<br />
<br />
"The water is in the car."<br />
<br />
"I'll go get it," he says and jogs easily back to the car. I spend my time trying to breathe normally and not think about what lies ahead. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBQIQt7sEKsA2X4L1lyI9B7YOGYCH13viMeAiQ5vIlobqMtu_pd4QtL_r6wI_G1Ya1JfMP0JOxTTtBZV7f5BHR4hUCMLddrVCZQcfMX3rV0GnG0jZUFUpUOV5JQJGswRUNQIWgF3va1s/s1600/IMG_7415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVBQIQt7sEKsA2X4L1lyI9B7YOGYCH13viMeAiQ5vIlobqMtu_pd4QtL_r6wI_G1Ya1JfMP0JOxTTtBZV7f5BHR4hUCMLddrVCZQcfMX3rV0GnG0jZUFUpUOV5JQJGswRUNQIWgF3va1s/s1600/IMG_7415.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred looking very handsome on the Chamisa Trail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Fred returns with nary a huff or a puff and hands me a large bottle of water, which I put into my hiking purse, which also carries my long lens, and my sweater and a few other things I might need. I'm beginning to think perhaps I haven't gotten the outfit right for this outing. For one thing, I don't even have real tennis shoes on. I have skechers on. Who wears skechers to a hike? What was I thinking? Where were my tennis shoes? And why does Fred always look like he belongs on a ranch? And I always look like that sidekick character who falls off the horse or down the ravine.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_flLl-8r8JRmyiRQROU5qhWEnBbdrzU2TBBj-yH5S4HMtvXuBGuLebAwpJjiHAbAasbvKJCCVD1fO_Qf52Sx6_-q2OrP3dbxdQ38T4h_XdKBjRziYAbXCQoS1300RM8IlHVO9n8aH6Q/s1600/IMG_7793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_flLl-8r8JRmyiRQROU5qhWEnBbdrzU2TBBj-yH5S4HMtvXuBGuLebAwpJjiHAbAasbvKJCCVD1fO_Qf52Sx6_-q2OrP3dbxdQ38T4h_XdKBjRziYAbXCQoS1300RM8IlHVO9n8aH6Q/s1600/IMG_7793.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My hiking purse. It's lovely isn't it? A big burlap bag <br />
with an Indian design. It is about 2.5 ft by 2.5 ft big.</td></tr>
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We start hiking in earnest. It is a lovely day and there is a nice breeze. The trail is only about 3 feet wide, but that's ok. I can handle that. I'm looking for views and ask Fred if he sees any as he is out in front.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrqDPymo1mILGoupxqs4U0tvsQLUXR8UKs_kskM0CnNNyVorPJJsNgIhSppVfCv7hGaWKNfFN5FEqtAffkpYumZIpiWjiWTqoI6kq60JtAsNbHPqfX4IJTwbjvYRgUYRUsu1txECIWXQ/s1600/IMG_7416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrqDPymo1mILGoupxqs4U0tvsQLUXR8UKs_kskM0CnNNyVorPJJsNgIhSppVfCv7hGaWKNfFN5FEqtAffkpYumZIpiWjiWTqoI6kq60JtAsNbHPqfX4IJTwbjvYRgUYRUsu1txECIWXQ/s1600/IMG_7416.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the narrow trail.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDUPPTiAnE7F85nMGvC2hdo47yLOMVBQztylcuTWcAG2orjEPPymkn8krIKobOhyphenhyphenMV-2lNmpJ4UTuyju29el4ChEtcZqD474A7l2E7qCCwdoGkeH4puYNQx1yNeNL9G6oBw2NfXRnB-Y/s1600/IMG_7417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDUPPTiAnE7F85nMGvC2hdo47yLOMVBQztylcuTWcAG2orjEPPymkn8krIKobOhyphenhyphenMV-2lNmpJ4UTuyju29el4ChEtcZqD474A7l2E7qCCwdoGkeH4puYNQx1yNeNL9G6oBw2NfXRnB-Y/s1600/IMG_7417.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Fred way out front.</td></tr>
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Just when we are getting going, along comes this group of really old lady hikers. And they are hiking really fast. Like, get out of my way fast. And they all have matching hiking outfits. AND they all have hiking sticks!<br />
<br />
Sticks! We need sticks for this trail?! <br />
<br />
Seriously, is there a dress code for this hike? These old ladies are wearing hiker couture: REI, Columbia. Not to mention, they are walking really FAST. Also, they didn't pant or wheeze or gasp. Nor did they grab onto a tree and yell out, "Hey, slow down, I'm dying here!" I don't know anyone who did that....<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPys-51enpH3MSXxAuaMeF2dAw_ELI_L0J0RCXRE4hdpynlO1FzlIcbH602-2gBt00IzZuRWrWK6u1Crki3YArlT_RtTx5X-5nOA2VJ3kigAWntX2hvamtWeCtTIh2PHpxLZKgYLBmZ0o/s1600/IMG_7421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPys-51enpH3MSXxAuaMeF2dAw_ELI_L0J0RCXRE4hdpynlO1FzlIcbH602-2gBt00IzZuRWrWK6u1Crki3YArlT_RtTx5X-5nOA2VJ3kigAWntX2hvamtWeCtTIh2PHpxLZKgYLBmZ0o/s1600/IMG_7421.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old lady hikers with sticks.</td></tr>
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I snapped a secret photo. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Fred!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He turned and looked at me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"I want a stick!" I pointed at the old ladies who were disappearing around the bend at a fast clip. "We need to find me a stick."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fred shook his head and continued to walk. I looked for a stick.</div>
<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHpiU5ZEwgwmsuTTDQwolj3Bh7r4aElylFagzrQ9VAnXVnx70ZE1HMjqbYc3La5FO4l1pAK4z-lyBd6bXeRTa120FIBGJmAzEzQatc0higXEbCku48Ilm7TgICg-4KuJwBLy90KEarI4k/s1600/IMG_7424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHpiU5ZEwgwmsuTTDQwolj3Bh7r4aElylFagzrQ9VAnXVnx70ZE1HMjqbYc3La5FO4l1pAK4z-lyBd6bXeRTa120FIBGJmAzEzQatc0higXEbCku48Ilm7TgICg-4KuJwBLy90KEarI4k/s1600/IMG_7424.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ravine is great.</td></tr>
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I just couldn't find a good stick. So, I sat down. I needed to reevaluate this hike. This hike, where we were going. Whether I wanted to continue. I was not enamored with Chamisa. <br />
<br />
It was at that moment when a running woman appeared. She quickly approaching Fred. I had my bottle of water out and was watching her well dressed self. She slowed a little as she caught sight of me. As she came near, she said,<br />
<br />
"My, what a lovely purse you have."<br />
<br />
My eyes narrowed. "Thank you." I tracked her as she ran past and around the corner. Then I turned to Fred.<br />
<br />
"Did you hear that?"<br />
<br />
Fred wrinkled his brow. "What? She said it was lovely."<br />
<br />
"That was hiker speak for 'what kind of moron are you?'" I started gesticulating wildly in the direction she had disappeared. "She meant, "Did you think there was a TJ Maxx out here in the mountains? Were you planning on going shopping out here?"<br />
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"I don't think so."</div>
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I gazed back in her direction. I whispered, "I do."<br />
<br />
"Fred, I think it is time for us to go back," I said. "My purse just got really heavy."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoSJ5Luf8lThKv5V5J61MBIqJ-xKlYoznTrNWsTb95CXS_rEQcLiXLzfLCADWd2kHm06G9yNrTVSksbn1gavZ-FPO3dMKhidP7BxQYCsmMzwpCMc35PBGdFnc995Qjl8m1WeRPH5a4Io/s1600/IMG_7420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijoSJ5Luf8lThKv5V5J61MBIqJ-xKlYoznTrNWsTb95CXS_rEQcLiXLzfLCADWd2kHm06G9yNrTVSksbn1gavZ-FPO3dMKhidP7BxQYCsmMzwpCMc35PBGdFnc995Qjl8m1WeRPH5a4Io/s1600/IMG_7420.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with my totally wrong hiking outfit.</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-85016049422242954732015-04-11T07:55:00.001-07:002015-04-11T07:55:58.530-07:00Photography Tour of Taos with Steven BundyOn our vacations I usually try to find something unusual to do. Last year I did bike tours of Paris, the year before it was horseback riding in Madras, NM. So, this year, I thought since I have been trying to up my game in photography, that we would try to do something related to that. So, I booked us a day with a photographer: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/StevenBundyPhotography?fref=ts">Steven Bundy</a> (<a href="http://www.stevenbundy.com/">Website</a>, ). I did the usual research and was very pleased with the reviews I found on <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g47224-d6485940-Reviews-Steven_Bundy_Photography-Taos_Taos_County_New_Mexico.html">tripadvisor</a> and with the awards that he has won and the museums that have purchased his work. <br />
<br />
But mostly, it seemed like he knew what he was doing AND he would be a fun guy to spend some time with. So, we chose the high road to Taos tour.<br />
<br />
It was a delightful day! <br />
<br />
So, what can you expect from a day with Steven?<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaz-cKqn2Wy-yufMtbV05OfmiPcJKpnMqbTanJPUWLy3v1fr0ghjuEIvRvBs1vIliKxAFLPlJPau3lBZzh6m75cK-XgWc-se4nsq5THg1RTTzvDyAlm7eET4Oypsbw29jNADFBJePVvTY/s1600/cd+and+steven.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaz-cKqn2Wy-yufMtbV05OfmiPcJKpnMqbTanJPUWLy3v1fr0ghjuEIvRvBs1vIliKxAFLPlJPau3lBZzh6m75cK-XgWc-se4nsq5THg1RTTzvDyAlm7eET4Oypsbw29jNADFBJePVvTY/s1600/cd+and+steven.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Fred McLean. Cheryl on rock with camera. <br />Steven is watching from a distance behind.</td></tr>
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Let me start first by telling you about us. I am an experienced beginner. I have a Canon Rebel T3 with several nice lenses that I have been using for several years. However, I rarely get off the several different programming buttons. My goal for the day was to learn how to do that and develop the confidence to do that.<br />
<br />
My husband shoots photos with his phone exclusively. I had borrowed a Canon for him to use on this trip. He just wanted to learn how to use a nice digital camera and decide if that was something he wanted to do.<br />
<br />
My worry was he wouldn't like the day at all and we were scheduled to be gone from 9 am until 7:30 pm. Oh, and all of these photos are taken by Cheryl McLean, unless otherwise stated.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Up4ZAWYdyv-mZRndYWSIFpGUULcf6dCkdQgv23lfT3iVWY_1D4EuRC-mlBC4edCcGn6463eW5pRmgFS24iZEdzF_w820SFEfLmLRmvJfPbWpMylwxqH_muxQNW6rjVuFO_e21CsWV-s/s1600/IMG_6883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Up4ZAWYdyv-mZRndYWSIFpGUULcf6dCkdQgv23lfT3iVWY_1D4EuRC-mlBC4edCcGn6463eW5pRmgFS24iZEdzF_w820SFEfLmLRmvJfPbWpMylwxqH_muxQNW6rjVuFO_e21CsWV-s/s1600/IMG_6883.JPG" height="302" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 1. Wood Cross with a wood fence trailing off into distance.</td></tr>
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We met at Steven's house and we got into his very clean and very nice and comfortable extended cab truck. There were back roads were going to be traversing and having an SUV or truck was going to be necessary. But his vehicle was super comfortable. Our first stop was in the city and that was where got our first lesson on aperture priority and how to use this setting of our camera. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNxSQjh7lDEk0nqz8xtLhs9F_yRJuc9o6v0ZD8WbIwXXar1-hDnABE00oaHf4O-aODg6iZ2aKWpfN2eppf6FB0d940Sg_yv87alIxTYsZs_gvMUjbV398HB2G2muEdtSOeaHl91P5WIk/s1600/IMG_6884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNxSQjh7lDEk0nqz8xtLhs9F_yRJuc9o6v0ZD8WbIwXXar1-hDnABE00oaHf4O-aODg6iZ2aKWpfN2eppf6FB0d940Sg_yv87alIxTYsZs_gvMUjbV398HB2G2muEdtSOeaHl91P5WIk/s1600/IMG_6884.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Photo 2. Wood Cross with a wood fence trailing off into distance, narrow version.</td></tr>
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I also learned about white balance. My friend Gabriele had tried to teach me all of this as well, but I had never had the confidence to go it alone on this setting. Today I had 8 hours to shoot this way. I was determined to try.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTm_zha57iIUrI13c1q0zxA_m7L_WOQMeQWwjqfNz5FuNMTOOeMuvVOCr0jGtyQPoT8Q2tWh_YgbacNBWKgCHeRYWlU-M1238GlRX11wnJS6G3p9j-_idJDLUXFedXqmTCLFCblYBbBM/s1600/IMG_6900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTm_zha57iIUrI13c1q0zxA_m7L_WOQMeQWwjqfNz5FuNMTOOeMuvVOCr0jGtyQPoT8Q2tWh_YgbacNBWKgCHeRYWlU-M1238GlRX11wnJS6G3p9j-_idJDLUXFedXqmTCLFCblYBbBM/s1600/IMG_6900.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Photo 3. Old adobe building with wood cross and snow capped peak in distance.<br />Crumbling adobe fence to the right.</td></tr>
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Steven also told us to use the histogram setting for our photo display. That lets you see if you are too over or under exposed. For each photo I would try the white balance option of + or - and see what the difference made in the histogram.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcknmr0EzXxqj31Qhd4L1igC2_E-Ix53tPMXplY-Ek7Hok1QlAMbUU1c_GrsKYpsSDQC0moX9gjGSlior6jfpDbsxrKpeEZRAROE152E5iyO8ujcaRdLYhefv8v9z6DL9oNuw_dFh4kYI/s1600/IMG_6910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcknmr0EzXxqj31Qhd4L1igC2_E-Ix53tPMXplY-Ek7Hok1QlAMbUU1c_GrsKYpsSDQC0moX9gjGSlior6jfpDbsxrKpeEZRAROE152E5iyO8ujcaRdLYhefv8v9z6DL9oNuw_dFh4kYI/s1600/IMG_6910.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Photo 4. Old adobe building with blue door.</td></tr>
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He also talked to us about placement, what to look for, and what made a good composition.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFuZu0FovsAVhb-tUca6jn2BRPG3qWxzK1HeJZ5lLNIqAknNzybGR742DDfECgSaj6ZPIiAUcS6us3gA4uEMx1RWNHJgI1Klh1o6B_SLxH1qm-XERajvsUpf1v1iw-h5WPOe17opqVfc/s1600/IMG_6941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFuZu0FovsAVhb-tUca6jn2BRPG3qWxzK1HeJZ5lLNIqAknNzybGR742DDfECgSaj6ZPIiAUcS6us3gA4uEMx1RWNHJgI1Klh1o6B_SLxH1qm-XERajvsUpf1v1iw-h5WPOe17opqVfc/s1600/IMG_6941.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Photo 5. Adobe church side view with shadows.</td></tr>
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Sometimes he would set the shot up for us, like with the above photo of the church.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSjCFH0p5Kfo2WbWwNIBWEfnF7akeaW8GL9R206w-Jjm_9rkcP_YV0MnYXiyRtstAQttXQVtIEHTBsuUqybs1IrXvY8qcsSYtT4ANjHkqFtwzypUaqahZP0t3llCm6-9dW2E4hmKjF0M/s1600/IMG_6953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSjCFH0p5Kfo2WbWwNIBWEfnF7akeaW8GL9R206w-Jjm_9rkcP_YV0MnYXiyRtstAQttXQVtIEHTBsuUqybs1IrXvY8qcsSYtT4ANjHkqFtwzypUaqahZP0t3llCm6-9dW2E4hmKjF0M/s1600/IMG_6953.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Photo 6. Beautiful NM valley.</span></td></tr>
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Other times, he would let us decide what to take and then either make suggestions or corrections.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdN2GoRTb7T7-uO_zC_rfwzf5XVq0v4tr8tlfCv68vS_ZlLR-EgQd_swIWFaTijuiUwcpnab51gcgxKu9Gf6nMfENwTYenc04mnbzLuKCNm3kd7k6kWj79dSVEx5KQVLdtYAEIan5nOBY/s1600/IMG_6965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdN2GoRTb7T7-uO_zC_rfwzf5XVq0v4tr8tlfCv68vS_ZlLR-EgQd_swIWFaTijuiUwcpnab51gcgxKu9Gf6nMfENwTYenc04mnbzLuKCNm3kd7k6kWj79dSVEx5KQVLdtYAEIan5nOBY/s1600/IMG_6965.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 9. Crazy colorful road memorial.</td></tr>
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Now on some shots, like the above, I had a hard time finding the right angle. This memorial had a lot going on. Fred's shot is probably better than mine.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVYoOL5ql4xgDPFdsMKlI0tVveIs6do6jsCTTPN-RlGtfggPnhH69uuFP5gJ74MA_AqTXZPQtUr32q-1YWLw78xnBRtzHvTK16Jzvbpe9cxdphBGsykHc1FtOe25qEjqYeWLcDZtNdUoc/s1600/IMG_6984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVYoOL5ql4xgDPFdsMKlI0tVveIs6do6jsCTTPN-RlGtfggPnhH69uuFP5gJ74MA_AqTXZPQtUr32q-1YWLw78xnBRtzHvTK16Jzvbpe9cxdphBGsykHc1FtOe25qEjqYeWLcDZtNdUoc/s1600/IMG_6984.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 10. Metal bridge.</td></tr>
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The bridge and the bridge corner were interesting to shoot. I don't think I am very good at architectural photos. I think that is a specialty that takes a particular eye.<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjmmExvCMmMPOi9I4z3Km3tA6Fk7XDz-ykK17nxy0LpnArY1RzRxVlAPAXxsYiNoAEUINWMmVb4oHv2vL_GM7HD1yhBy4PmZI6MT6H7cn633wThXGoajkfic7H2y0ZwOoAiNvuCCwcU40/s1600/IMG_6997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjmmExvCMmMPOi9I4z3Km3tA6Fk7XDz-ykK17nxy0LpnArY1RzRxVlAPAXxsYiNoAEUINWMmVb4oHv2vL_GM7HD1yhBy4PmZI6MT6H7cn633wThXGoajkfic7H2y0ZwOoAiNvuCCwcU40/s1600/IMG_6997.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 11. Bridge corner.</td></tr>
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Frankly, I wouldn't have even seen the corners as a likely shot if Steven hadn't pointed them out. They are pretty.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ABWvHl7RmV6fsgaIyzP3er2LKkvNvua-VRJWB_IK3eho_twAMwPvML559fs9AV89VeE9oFF5xRmQ0lB45wd_kJ4b0GGIv9OO_Sub8ZYt9JFyDXgvqroAKzFjRB5qAi2Qc16JiPzN2yM/s1600/IMG_6985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ABWvHl7RmV6fsgaIyzP3er2LKkvNvua-VRJWB_IK3eho_twAMwPvML559fs9AV89VeE9oFF5xRmQ0lB45wd_kJ4b0GGIv9OO_Sub8ZYt9JFyDXgvqroAKzFjRB5qAi2Qc16JiPzN2yM/s1600/IMG_6985.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 12. Dirt road.</td></tr>
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I really like roads and streams and churches.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLF3Bzjh4JdlVvOQGBTJMGcGbvwSdOLYQVQL56bzJV5RGoe6WO-g4cE9iHZpeqikzzOaCuanL4N8HrG_mv3CyDVasxXLiDP6_EtlwS5m1ZWZVbEtsfFapTHc8BCF0kxWj7v6ZamOb5Sqo/s1600/IMG_7018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLF3Bzjh4JdlVvOQGBTJMGcGbvwSdOLYQVQL56bzJV5RGoe6WO-g4cE9iHZpeqikzzOaCuanL4N8HrG_mv3CyDVasxXLiDP6_EtlwS5m1ZWZVbEtsfFapTHc8BCF0kxWj7v6ZamOb5Sqo/s1600/IMG_7018.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 13. Back of adobe church.</td></tr>
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Sometimes the backs of churches are more interesting. Odd, isn't it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWzmE8SmlV9BxE06-TjieNbAoOLaBVa0QE7wRCYYseoEVars64qCzdUS1nceTK2lZKXIP6zI7qtPqele2SMTmQC_TFtJtgEPAkfsobev4kZ07T4L8lZOWeW_v3hywveBA4VgD8lH0pZM/s1600/IMG_7026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWzmE8SmlV9BxE06-TjieNbAoOLaBVa0QE7wRCYYseoEVars64qCzdUS1nceTK2lZKXIP6zI7qtPqele2SMTmQC_TFtJtgEPAkfsobev4kZ07T4L8lZOWeW_v3hywveBA4VgD8lH0pZM/s1600/IMG_7026.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 14. Old wooden church with a wire fence.</td></tr>
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All along the way, Steven had a cooler packed with snacks and cold water and sodas. Everything was thought of and taken care of.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5e3U3FuxazgG9OIpI3gGCwjeJm_0NQe1wrH-aerhZVNkKeLp479iV9kFWoKRf5JrmgXlRtdPURFgoBPPkry57oLWPRyN136D4MyqZkC9999K34Pe76vmkaXWV0INNmS06Wbo3ZYDXptU/s1600/IMG_7036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5e3U3FuxazgG9OIpI3gGCwjeJm_0NQe1wrH-aerhZVNkKeLp479iV9kFWoKRf5JrmgXlRtdPURFgoBPPkry57oLWPRyN136D4MyqZkC9999K34Pe76vmkaXWV0INNmS06Wbo3ZYDXptU/s1600/IMG_7036.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 15. Rusty roof with dormer.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixRG-ML-FUWhlaQ7aZnNbD4EC1BHiYo_5uoDJOLMAyow9gKbVBA-2xl3dFnFJvpUkxRT3Z4TS9Xn6PRcUg-KS8BBx1_D2RF5MO0CpHQAEEd16Wa4hXAwm9xU5h6fJHoLEh2dJFCFQ_tU/s1600/IMG_7040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixRG-ML-FUWhlaQ7aZnNbD4EC1BHiYo_5uoDJOLMAyow9gKbVBA-2xl3dFnFJvpUkxRT3Z4TS9Xn6PRcUg-KS8BBx1_D2RF5MO0CpHQAEEd16Wa4hXAwm9xU5h6fJHoLEh2dJFCFQ_tU/s1600/IMG_7040.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 16. Crazy house with two dormers.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUllV5Iqsf5Ov2QzRfllUBMU1chaMR9C22KQ-7sHJXBFO-ILN6HfhdHuoFvugi6QBu_evmfxptGd1anXE1_cXMZ9-KI5yak_HH3zrlt92VuFF1usVs4eFzTLdUo-fKe1X-bOjClS4eI0/s1600/IMG_7044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikUllV5Iqsf5Ov2QzRfllUBMU1chaMR9C22KQ-7sHJXBFO-ILN6HfhdHuoFvugi6QBu_evmfxptGd1anXE1_cXMZ9-KI5yak_HH3zrlt92VuFF1usVs4eFzTLdUo-fKe1X-bOjClS4eI0/s1600/IMG_7044.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 17. Dormer with wide view of roof.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfBtRO4xKmtjRsDQ-ya_UK78dBvUFJf1JvKIp6e7AKE2EcrOhSCD5icCMj4gD5y_Zzb7unlaknzMvihHWlg29m6qb6GkbZ-UtNUIFgfyWrOMdMrrw6_KPslJIG4nXTdLt-N30fLTehNI/s1600/IMG_7049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfBtRO4xKmtjRsDQ-ya_UK78dBvUFJf1JvKIp6e7AKE2EcrOhSCD5icCMj4gD5y_Zzb7unlaknzMvihHWlg29m6qb6GkbZ-UtNUIFgfyWrOMdMrrw6_KPslJIG4nXTdLt-N30fLTehNI/s1600/IMG_7049.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 18. Las Trampa church using my 24-105 lens.</td></tr>
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Now this is where you can see the difference a lens makes. Here is my average lens (24-105 mm, which is my walking around lens). <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cQFb6yZ__mRjf6SnHS8EVScf80sgRvQnCd5svm3ZK3E7u4qStNk-34fmFAfivaNMdQ8NgDXcbC7L8-yZoSgmmec6BC3H_m319cP_CL72NvGi6UOTrTtZ99lJtUuo5ufjKXr3CMv0pfE/s1600/IMG_7054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cQFb6yZ__mRjf6SnHS8EVScf80sgRvQnCd5svm3ZK3E7u4qStNk-34fmFAfivaNMdQ8NgDXcbC7L8-yZoSgmmec6BC3H_m319cP_CL72NvGi6UOTrTtZ99lJtUuo5ufjKXr3CMv0pfE/s1600/IMG_7054.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 19. Las Trampas church using the wide angle lens. <br />Much better view of stairs leading up to church.</td></tr>
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But to get a super nice shot, Steven suggested that I use the wide angle lens. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlD9OYQ73e7SUdRuczXyrDPKNXzHYMkqhpwvvjnifiKWfHEKxcwzTNkWFwTWqHXfbs9vQFw6tUA6Ee5hUl4z_cgDrSUq5BvH9lBNi_Qa0hwMR9c3QnryvVan3Ot9h5_Bwer678ptx8BDk/s1600/fred+&+cheryl+ay+las+trampas+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlD9OYQ73e7SUdRuczXyrDPKNXzHYMkqhpwvvjnifiKWfHEKxcwzTNkWFwTWqHXfbs9vQFw6tUA6Ee5hUl4z_cgDrSUq5BvH9lBNi_Qa0hwMR9c3QnryvVan3Ot9h5_Bwer678ptx8BDk/s1600/fred+&+cheryl+ay+las+trampas+01.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Steven Bundy: Fred and Cheryl at Las Trampas.</td></tr>
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I still cut off the stairway a bit. I need to look more carefully into the viewfinder and take several shots.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYg9h4TbxtBvIeMFTKJHFSwbvjWbktDXVD4DwNJJZ7FO32XuVPCgfvsn_Hb1k3vcLpGp1xSHvI70sRD5r8iE2Na32Fk1V5wnJUfgbNObp4ieMnpWPjQ-2Hbt81RErKLXxpalfOVoN1sc/s1600/IMG_7061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYg9h4TbxtBvIeMFTKJHFSwbvjWbktDXVD4DwNJJZ7FO32XuVPCgfvsn_Hb1k3vcLpGp1xSHvI70sRD5r8iE2Na32Fk1V5wnJUfgbNObp4ieMnpWPjQ-2Hbt81RErKLXxpalfOVoN1sc/s1600/IMG_7061.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 20. View of Truchas. Snow capped peaks in background.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_DXHYh4i_nUO8Qg5kvYCPAcdLcG5QClTMuFim5Fh-pPlLivPX_G3HroPizeIi_6UilmIk74uA0vZPsQf4aAmEUpZz58nqqd8tTKXBEQ2BQDGi5cMUylSsnkWSmorKPbPwE1pKAMbiB0/s1600/IMG_7062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_DXHYh4i_nUO8Qg5kvYCPAcdLcG5QClTMuFim5Fh-pPlLivPX_G3HroPizeIi_6UilmIk74uA0vZPsQf4aAmEUpZz58nqqd8tTKXBEQ2BQDGi5cMUylSsnkWSmorKPbPwE1pKAMbiB0/s1600/IMG_7062.JPG" height="199" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 21. Falling down shed. Fred's favorite kind!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7H50L2OkbpNZpSkpjKbEIJhNLbNr13p2A_03mREwpgfXdbSdC02mYG8jSwHt4KTkK3Rg_TcRs4c1x_8N5LrEyrQMU2RzyCDYKR5MitQrkoUvo4Cm7wux0mepkN2WclIUNeVi15a20A-o/s1600/IMG_7063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7H50L2OkbpNZpSkpjKbEIJhNLbNr13p2A_03mREwpgfXdbSdC02mYG8jSwHt4KTkK3Rg_TcRs4c1x_8N5LrEyrQMU2RzyCDYKR5MitQrkoUvo4Cm7wux0mepkN2WclIUNeVi15a20A-o/s1600/IMG_7063.JPG" height="247" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 22. Truchas church.</td></tr>
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This was a hard church to shoot. It was in the middle of everything.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5XMw0ic91Hbv-vEkiC8VMzR6pmwUKjHaTjB1Osd8eAiO85mRznzAdJXDlrd08L5DxCZ91LUYp_z-Hib2DOIUOL5zNw81p8puZR8ciIPcFbYysuT2OHR7neJBOgqS4bLINF4BoeCwLng/s1600/IMG_7064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5XMw0ic91Hbv-vEkiC8VMzR6pmwUKjHaTjB1Osd8eAiO85mRznzAdJXDlrd08L5DxCZ91LUYp_z-Hib2DOIUOL5zNw81p8puZR8ciIPcFbYysuT2OHR7neJBOgqS4bLINF4BoeCwLng/s1600/IMG_7064.JPG" height="259" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 23. Another view of the Truchas church.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGR-2ypsVCI1YZ47-1AeAEPpiAyiykTGj4_xbGqMJuOy8n1bgMp6IIjzm-t392KUdDYaYgadZsyydDoaOPpD6z8_DlV8yEodaQYqjGhtoDwhAc297bvm8F05GX3wjomYj11kDSbfbfjy0/s1600/IMG_7071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGR-2ypsVCI1YZ47-1AeAEPpiAyiykTGj4_xbGqMJuOy8n1bgMp6IIjzm-t392KUdDYaYgadZsyydDoaOPpD6z8_DlV8yEodaQYqjGhtoDwhAc297bvm8F05GX3wjomYj11kDSbfbfjy0/s1600/IMG_7071.JPG" height="260" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 24. This is a puzzle photo. There is something unusual hanging from the cross.<br />Photos 24, 25, and 26 get you closer and closer. Photo of the exterior of a building with a white cross in the corner where a fence meets the edge of the building. A wire birdcage hangs from the cross.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yTRFL8PBaD2Y5RaMGr7FcSe4pidL5Y5Cz4BV5dzXcpeAl0sFu9iokhDsUv-F_hHQQUGaHFefzfM2Gwk7SVm-HGnFBArxKSRLVdpQKzfbXJS7HHPWCc0MDotpkxsMX_Sjn4Y0TEC_Wfk/s1600/IMG_7073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yTRFL8PBaD2Y5RaMGr7FcSe4pidL5Y5Cz4BV5dzXcpeAl0sFu9iokhDsUv-F_hHQQUGaHFefzfM2Gwk7SVm-HGnFBArxKSRLVdpQKzfbXJS7HHPWCc0MDotpkxsMX_Sjn4Y0TEC_Wfk/s1600/IMG_7073.JPG" height="288" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Photo 25. This is a puzzle photo. There is something unusual hanging from the cross.</span><br style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;" /><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Photos 24, 25, and 26 get you closer and closer. Photo of the exterior of a building with a white cross in the corner where a fence meets the edge of the building. A wire birdcage hangs from the cross.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNASnbLxO4V-BJcGDXlagT9Icw21SgNvcSRAESQWaf-V3HOzbXEd9JXGYCdPSqiQUBmrYATuM4Iy8RishpkgLHqQtMspz-zbrrEPD3WlHb5Kwt6eCNE8r3uez_f8-mo2vXAGaw5TYfIf4/s1600/IMG_7076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNASnbLxO4V-BJcGDXlagT9Icw21SgNvcSRAESQWaf-V3HOzbXEd9JXGYCdPSqiQUBmrYATuM4Iy8RishpkgLHqQtMspz-zbrrEPD3WlHb5Kwt6eCNE8r3uez_f8-mo2vXAGaw5TYfIf4/s1600/IMG_7076.JPG" height="320" width="275" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Photo 26. This is a puzzle photo. It is a skull inside the birdcage. So weird.</span></td></tr>
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I just like the fact that someone stuck a skull in a birdcage and hung it from a cross. That is so weird. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIAU14a1Wda2xLHOTlJEy_o5ttyJR0XVcXK6R-fOLjNTIBo48YSjne18khvf9KbnjWdxoDUGpe710PZY4wty0ToR2czRUXfiSwNCPmbzjFFCxjbWw3RCR6ZWrcB31sA8RLG3wSO_VSMo/s1600/IMG_7080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIAU14a1Wda2xLHOTlJEy_o5ttyJR0XVcXK6R-fOLjNTIBo48YSjne18khvf9KbnjWdxoDUGpe710PZY4wty0ToR2czRUXfiSwNCPmbzjFFCxjbWw3RCR6ZWrcB31sA8RLG3wSO_VSMo/s1600/IMG_7080.JPG" height="245" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 27. Photo of Steve and Fred talking about their photos.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Tzoo9lJdELD60VRRuyKUq3TRCGCimKA6ousO_egyvf4EubFCB__yZeA3LnVoqI2wI_mJVZD-lOpsteRHMx0uNmNY9oF74Tjd0qeyV28QaomFh1EDlQC81Qbgx7bTRGpS-SaumTeud2Q/s1600/IMG_7113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Tzoo9lJdELD60VRRuyKUq3TRCGCimKA6ousO_egyvf4EubFCB__yZeA3LnVoqI2wI_mJVZD-lOpsteRHMx0uNmNY9oF74Tjd0qeyV28QaomFh1EDlQC81Qbgx7bTRGpS-SaumTeud2Q/s1600/IMG_7113.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 28. Before my wide angle lens. The Chimayo Sanctuary.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgRqdba2zvTPKvlM-KIxd_GEobiAtO9eGuLaOuWCH0nJydaGVjYDd3ThJRiwZq7qRWgKDq6CH-4VlDzlv_NauOv2kbiLux0G2WLPi_3H5-EH_4qBlq5Q5QL57COVedz-0gBsFc3wZhaU/s1600/IMG_7126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgRqdba2zvTPKvlM-KIxd_GEobiAtO9eGuLaOuWCH0nJydaGVjYDd3ThJRiwZq7qRWgKDq6CH-4VlDzlv_NauOv2kbiLux0G2WLPi_3H5-EH_4qBlq5Q5QL57COVedz-0gBsFc3wZhaU/s1600/IMG_7126.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 29. Chimayo gates.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBNiGQg59KDx4LoFaYYM9lJCcce_pTkoliS_qbKgvqPgsbWKp6wPoPgKUI6lw18NHV6OicpEoUlZWY9akbfWMgvh75zgMVCTpZPUL7lpBmXW3B_4FwOgmihYjG_dFq5_7gnUHwvAw91M/s1600/IMG_7131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBNiGQg59KDx4LoFaYYM9lJCcce_pTkoliS_qbKgvqPgsbWKp6wPoPgKUI6lw18NHV6OicpEoUlZWY9akbfWMgvh75zgMVCTpZPUL7lpBmXW3B_4FwOgmihYjG_dFq5_7gnUHwvAw91M/s1600/IMG_7131.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 30 After the wide angle lens. Chimayo Sanctuary.</td></tr>
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Again, I should have looked more closely at my shot and gotten the doors fully, but I do like the shot.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY3thAJ0IsdgugvwXedmpk6Ck733iuyi18SVO99eZnTZmBkuJaNF76wlzn1nPjbwanoawjm-aLXxAyGNtv6L-y-_79iAV2LFjQnkklOUrMYV0GlsRXNByr4aR1DHWpjFnmr2dUn3e0x10/s1600/IMG_7180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY3thAJ0IsdgugvwXedmpk6Ck733iuyi18SVO99eZnTZmBkuJaNF76wlzn1nPjbwanoawjm-aLXxAyGNtv6L-y-_79iAV2LFjQnkklOUrMYV0GlsRXNByr4aR1DHWpjFnmr2dUn3e0x10/s1600/IMG_7180.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 31. Rushing water.</td></tr>
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We learned about how to catch the effect of rushing water, which was such a cool effect. That was using our tripods with a long exposure.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDKSe3DPP-CKx641yTe8_QZhHgA6Zz3QmpAxVQpJWZjzWc7zQx6NFQHAO0jvfVwXBjGAMKGsvDgBkCiMV-f_Bf4aPHKeR78VwH58hv7wtKmrmlaN7BF4J1JEGAeJkL9NJGRia5o0pZJI/s1600/IMG_7195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDKSe3DPP-CKx641yTe8_QZhHgA6Zz3QmpAxVQpJWZjzWc7zQx6NFQHAO0jvfVwXBjGAMKGsvDgBkCiMV-f_Bf4aPHKeR78VwH58hv7wtKmrmlaN7BF4J1JEGAeJkL9NJGRia5o0pZJI/s1600/IMG_7195.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 32. The earthships.</td></tr>
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I love the sky on these next shots as the sun was getting ready to set. These houses are called earthships because they are a special type of bioengineering houses.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORZq2h2ckdVr_2weAllCc7T4StG7bUJLCAEbEuO0eJQj8Zj6yLTy4egouf6cxQ4WHJUNOxkBBD9GF6koXHot-D8EAldwXywmQLefGOhPeRUqqIe0y1CKvyy003bZfQrpQpr5jIEkauAY/s1600/IMG_7197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORZq2h2ckdVr_2weAllCc7T4StG7bUJLCAEbEuO0eJQj8Zj6yLTy4egouf6cxQ4WHJUNOxkBBD9GF6koXHot-D8EAldwXywmQLefGOhPeRUqqIe0y1CKvyy003bZfQrpQpr5jIEkauAY/s1600/IMG_7197.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 33. The earthships, view of the front of one.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8m4DJDvFQsLH_u9MFBGrrCqJwkAUu_xTTkMVYq5TtDdYJFmvr6BQ8dtY0m_2hSyfksZrM4VTZB1ZTx9EEpS8nnXH_gSzpLwFWmXiru9lHva1c_p27CeP3zKP9lUu0CarPwBHElUseU20/s1600/IMG_7198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8m4DJDvFQsLH_u9MFBGrrCqJwkAUu_xTTkMVYq5TtDdYJFmvr6BQ8dtY0m_2hSyfksZrM4VTZB1ZTx9EEpS8nnXH_gSzpLwFWmXiru9lHva1c_p27CeP3zKP9lUu0CarPwBHElUseU20/s1600/IMG_7198.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 34. The earthships, view of the second strange one that is grey with sparkles.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioToTMvsuRIWAtWtTc5mVjbLebc1K4H3iuzZEmQXqCXL7dugrgPM0LV5DKQIhqZO1lFf_T3jLSiiGJfgiuHj2HldnhxVz4a7Ur47AuS2rZyinqOpx4ntnlljPGON6Rq_WrSJYdQiTJoQI/s1600/IMG_7211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioToTMvsuRIWAtWtTc5mVjbLebc1K4H3iuzZEmQXqCXL7dugrgPM0LV5DKQIhqZO1lFf_T3jLSiiGJfgiuHj2HldnhxVz4a7Ur47AuS2rZyinqOpx4ntnlljPGON6Rq_WrSJYdQiTJoQI/s1600/IMG_7211.JPG" height="293" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 35. My one coyote photo.</td></tr>
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Our trip to find big horned sheep was a bust. They were all hiding. But we were successful in finding a coyote. I didn't change my ISO setting up high enough to catch the swiftly moving coyote, but I did get one nice shot of him.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQB0GukgV8dMxF3x9viUH9IN7Dd1uvy7kQ91yKyXvXMJOkML2cD9m2lmjhLbMIcOU_GlIOt8O7VQJV6p5nyRa7jDWbc8IP-f997022Gaj6lJucbu7iwiHqYTS3hvcJcUvbGhCVJJsHW8/s1600/IMG_7262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQB0GukgV8dMxF3x9viUH9IN7Dd1uvy7kQ91yKyXvXMJOkML2cD9m2lmjhLbMIcOU_GlIOt8O7VQJV6p5nyRa7jDWbc8IP-f997022Gaj6lJucbu7iwiHqYTS3hvcJcUvbGhCVJJsHW8/s1600/IMG_7262.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 36. Night photography: so cool! The Taos church at night with statue in foreground.</td></tr>
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What I enjoyed the best, though, was our instruction on night photography and using the tripod with the St. Francis church. It is one of the church's that Ansel Adams really loved.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL0agweC8Npo2Y9-xVPeVbWh2FjU-CuEY8Dui9MVXy95FeuqHaSY5OD_RbC8TliMSgk4eY6dAYi03nrdN7lxGjme3GEphm1ql8e_6GfqMY13Ie6yoVAnekghwS6UZhBJOeWk8VdxGb8UE/s1600/IMG_7264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL0agweC8Npo2Y9-xVPeVbWh2FjU-CuEY8Dui9MVXy95FeuqHaSY5OD_RbC8TliMSgk4eY6dAYi03nrdN7lxGjme3GEphm1ql8e_6GfqMY13Ie6yoVAnekghwS6UZhBJOeWk8VdxGb8UE/s1600/IMG_7264.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 37. Taos church side view with side lights. Full dark.</td></tr>
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Using a long exposure to capture all the available light and varying the white balance created these amazing blue skies from skies that appeared to be night black to my eyes.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyC87grroyOdyqdWpPgqUVZV-7Qdqn6per1zTS1K8r9w-UJZ2n6PmJz4NDU88hayL3kpOvO9HtM7_OF4WUbF12iRNvWvz-UFQkjQuoTOTR5LZOV7bD6Fc_YB92PLcqxz5exgeEe3xVbA/s1600/IMG_7267.JPG" height="213" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo 38. The back of the St. Francis church: this shot just stunned me by how cool it turned out to be. <br />Not that I am amazing, just that the shot turned out really interesting and unexpected.</td></tr>
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If you want to see the photograph that Ansel Adams took of the <a href="http://www.hctc.commnet.edu/artmuseum/anseladams/details/pdf/stfrancis.pdf">St. Francis church</a>, you have to use the link. They are very finicky with his photos. 8-)</div>
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Here is what he said about the church</div>
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<b style="background-color: #ffcc99;">What impressed Adams about this structure?</b><span style="background-color: #ffcc99;">When he first saw the church, Adams was impressed by it's "magnificent form" and its "rigorous and simple design and structure." The photograph of this church was shot from the rear, which was the angle that Adams thought made it "one of the great architectural monuments of America." He wrote in </span><i style="background-color: #ffcc99;">Elements</i><span style="background-color: #ffcc99;">, "it is not really large, but it appears immense. The forms are fully functional; the massive rear buttress and the secondary buttress to the left are organically related to the basic masses of adobe, and all together seem an outcropping of the earth rather than merely an object constructed upon it."<a href="http://www.hctc.commnet.edu/artmuseum/anseladams/details/stfrancis.html"> (</a></span><a href="http://www.hctc.commnet.edu/artmuseum/anseladams/details/stfrancis.html"><i style="background-color: #ffcc99;">Examples - The Making of 40 Photograph</i><span style="background-color: #ffcc99;">s by Ansel Adams, pp 90-93)</span></a></div>
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All in all, we thoroughly enjoyed our day and think of Steven as a friend of ours. He is a lovely person, very easy to talk to, to learn from and to be with. Not only that, but we learned a lot that we can use for our next trip.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyC87grroyOdyqdWpPgqUVZV-7Qdqn6per1zTS1K8r9w-UJZ2n6PmJz4NDU88hayL3kpOvO9HtM7_OF4WUbF12iRNvWvz-UFQkjQuoTOTR5LZOV7bD6Fc_YB92PLcqxz5exgeEe3xVbA/s1600/IMG_7267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyC87grroyOdyqdWpPgqUVZV-7Qdqn6per1zTS1K8r9w-UJZ2n6PmJz4NDU88hayL3kpOvO9HtM7_OF4WUbF12iRNvWvz-UFQkjQuoTOTR5LZOV7bD6Fc_YB92PLcqxz5exgeEe3xVbA/s1600/IMG_7267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-53381083623279008482015-03-22T22:43:00.000-07:002015-03-22T22:43:43.921-07:00Wicked Witch of the West<h2>
Lapse of Judgement </h2>
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Why would anyone book a 6 am flight? Obviously, someone would be having a lapse in judgement. Perhaps they would be thinking, "I get up at 5:30, 6 am shouldn't be a problem." Not realizing that 6 am isn't the crux of the matter. Six am is when you board the plane. Six am is way down the road. Six is when the flight actually LEAVES.</div>
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4:15 am is when we got up. 4:30 is when we left the house. Now you should probably ask, when should we have actually woken up? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
3:30 am. Yes, 3:30.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But we did not.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h2>
45 Minutes</h2>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, when we got to the ticket counter we have two bags that need to be checked and there is this big sign that says:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
ALL FLIGHTS WILL CLOSE 45 MINUTES BEFORE THE FLIGHT IS DUE TO LEAVE. (Emphasis added.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
OMG! It is 5:05, our flight leaves at 6:00. We are in a huge line. There is a school group in front of us and a school group swarming the self serve kiosks. What should we do? Fred didn't want to leave the line, so I went to try the kiosks. It is now 5:11.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I logged in and entered our destination.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Blink, Blink.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Blink. Blink.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It looks to me like the kiosk is going to process our tickets, so I wave Fred out of the line. Error. It can't find our reservation. Do I have a flight number? Crap. 5:14. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then an attendant calls out, "Is anyone on the 6 am flight to Dallas?" My hand shoots up like that obnoxious know it all student in class. I immediately abandon the kiosk and start to run to the attendant. Fred yells out, "NO! Come back."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm torn. Someone official has said to come over to them. Yet, there is my husband who is saying that the kiosk is working and we should place our faith in it. My head just might explode.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I go back to the kiosk, but look longingly at the 20 people who are now in line and being helped.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I now have fear brain. We have entered the 45 minute zone and my brain is not functioning clearly. I'm not reading the questions fast enough and Fred is saying, "Press no. Press continue."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An attendant comes over and says, " I don't want you to get timed out." This statement makes me feel comforted and nervous both at the same time. She hovers over the kiosk.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We finally get our bags checked, our tickets in hand and make it to security where Fred is whisked away to precheck and I am forced to stay behind in security hell with the commoners. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h2>
Security Hell</h2>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I tell myself that it is ok. I will still make the plane. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The line is moving fairly fast and I am practicing smiling. There are two TSA agents taking boarding passes. One of them is chatting everyone up and being friendly. "That's nice." I think. "I would rather have a friendly guard than an unfriendly guard." But secretly I am timing him against the unsmiling agent to his right and watching the people whiz by him in his line as the chatty agent is asking a family about their trip and talking about Mickey Mouse. Honestly! The boy is wearing a blue wizards hat. I could just scream. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"It's Harry Potter! Don't you recognize a wizard hat when you see it?" But, I don't think that would get me through the line any faster, so when I get up to him, I just smile and greet him effusively.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oddly, he doesn't want to chat with me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At the line through screening a TSA agent tells a dad in front of me about being sure to push his luggage into the machine and onto the conveyor belt. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I, of course, not wanting to be chastised for anything, take this bit of advice to heart and start pushing all of my stuff into the machine. I'm waiting with my hand on my bag for the machine to start up so that I can give it a big push, when the passenger next to me says, </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"It doesn't do any good to push when the machine isn't moving."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Are you kidding me? I narrowed my eyes and looked up at the TSA agent. The agent looked at the guy next to me and gave him a "Dude, don't even" look. I thought, cool. I'll let TSA handle that one.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h2>
Layovers</h2>
<div>
We slept the whole flight, so when we got off the plane and had a layover and time for breakfast we were walking zombies. Au Bon Pain was the only place with food nearby, so we staggered up and like cave people we pointed and grunted our order.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fred immediately disappeared into the crowd and I had a sudden need for napkins. The lady behind the counter had given me a croissant and I really wanted some napkins and I just couldn't find them. Mind you, I have on Fred's mom's blue down coat, which makes me look like the Micheline tire man. I have a HUGE diaper/camera bag that must weight 50 pounds and a big ass purse. Add to that, I am randomly turning to the left and to the right as I think I see a napkin out of the corner of my eye and I am bumping into people with each turn.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Think of me as a big blue pinball, hitting lots of random people in the Au Bon Pain bakery.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Oooof."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Sorry."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Ow."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Excuse me."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Argh."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"My fault!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm also looking for Fred and turning this way and that. No Fred. I'm calling out. "Fred?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Here."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Fred?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Here."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Fred?" Dammit, where is he? Has he wandered off again? Can't he just stay in one place?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"HERE!" </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was like a game of Marco Polo in Au Bon Pain. Seriously. I'm lucky there isn't a camera crew following me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h2>
Sandwich Alzheimer's</h2>
<div>
The lady calls out my sandwich and I go to get it. I look in the bag and there are two sandwiches in there. I give her back the bag. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"This isn't mine." She tilts her head and looks at me with her eyebrows raised. She nods affirmatively and points at the bag. I walk away toward Fred. She calls out order 74. I ask Fred for our receipt and what our order was. He says 72 and hands me the receipt. It says 74. I suddenly realize that Fred had ordered a sandwich too. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sandwich Alzheimer's. That was my bag. I go back. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"That's my sandwich." The lady is not smiling now and she rather aggressively shoves the bag at me. I go back and sit down by Fred.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"That lady thinks I'm nuts." I tell him.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Just then a very chipper young mom with her smartly outfitted toddler join the line and order. They are joined by their cute grandmother. They all order like normal human beings, smiling and laughing and acting as if they are fully awake and loving life. They probably have all their brain cells too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Just you wait, I think, turning into the wicked witch of the west, a 6 am flight one day will get you and your little pretties too!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-13934376232824318432014-11-16T06:44:00.001-08:002014-11-16T07:49:10.222-08:00Gordon Ramsay's Beef Wellington: FailWell, I knew it was hard to do. And I was lucky in the fact that it was just Fred and I who were eating it. So, I didn't have an epic fail for dinner. Just a regular fail.<br />
<br />
Still, it was sad. I had such high hopes. <br />
<br />
I watched his video twice.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Gordon Ramsay's Video on Beef Wellington</h3>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/5uXIPhxL5XA" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<h3>
The Groceries</h3>
<div>
First there was shopping for everything. Did you notice that he mentions chestnuts. Have you ever worked with chestnuts? Well, fortunately, I have. They are a pain in the a**. And you don't just toss them into a bowl and crumble them up, Gordon. They need processing. AND, if you are in the US, where we don't eat chestnuts, you have to have a specialty store that will actually carry them. Thank you Whole Foods. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Chestnuts are covered in a thick, brown outer skin. You can't just peel them. You have to score an X on them and then roast them in the oven for about 10 minutes. Then when they POP, or look popped, you can take them out and peel them. That is where the pain in the ... comes in. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But Gordon says, it adds a nutty flavor and Damn It, I'm doing what Gordon says. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
While I'm at Whole Food, I get the meat. Filet mignon. OMG. Now I know why the article I read said it was ruinously expensive. I asked for enough for two to try the recipe and the butcher gave me a roast that went from the tip of my finger to my elbow! SERIOUSLY?!!! But did I say, "You are insane?!" No. Because he was the butcher. He was the expert and I had asked for his advice. And if I now said, "You are nuts, that roast could feed Godzilla AND Mothra." That would be mean. I nicely took the roast and said, "Thank you so much." Besides which, he had worked so hard on trimming it. I felt bad.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then I looked at the price. OMG. We don't even eat beef that much. Why are we eating this alone? I curse the heavens.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I go home and unpack the groceries. No prosciutto. Crap. Out to another store for prosciutto. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And it has to be thin. Paper thin. </div>
<h3>
Cooking the Wellington: My First Mistake</h3>
<div>
My first mistake is in thinking that all will go smoothly. I forget that the puff pastry has to be defrosted. So I tell Fred that we can wait an hour to get started. We will start at 5. It only takes 30 min. to cook. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
15 minutes in the fridge for the filet to chill. Another 15 to chill. That's another 30. That's an hour.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Hmm.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The mushrooms need to cook, but that shouldn't take long. Chestnuts. Oh yeah. Gotta roast them. Poo. Do that now. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What am I forgetting.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Freaking puff pastry! It takes 2 hours to thaw!!!! Show stopper. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We need to start NOW!! We start on the chestnuts, the mushrooms. Fred gets started on a red wine and shallot sauce to go on the side. I have a white bean salad in the fridge waiting for us. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I sear the filet and that's when I realize that this roast is really unwieldy. It doesn't really fit in the pan to sear nicely. Grr. I'm trying to do the Gordon trick of searing it on the edge of the pan, but my fat, long roast is not cooperating, plus it isn't wrapped, and it keeps falling apart. ARGH!!! I know there are parts that aren't seared. I pull it out. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fine. I get the mustard out. I can't find the pastry brush. Gordon, why can't I use a knife? A knife works just fine. I spread mustard on with a knife and it looks exactly the same as the brushed on mustard. Score one for me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I put the filet in the fridge. Wait, should it go in the fridge? Oh, I forgot. I don't care.</div>
<h3>
Putting the Wellington Together: Second Mistake</h3>
<div>
I set up the plastic wrap. Wait a minute. Gordon has special plastic wrap. I think he failed to mention that you need to have plastic wrap that is at least 8 inches on either side of a ridiculously small Wellington roast so that you can do your neat little cheffy flips and rolls. Where do you find this enormously large and long plastic wrap: at the Gordon Ramsay store, I bet.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Holy hell. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well, my plastic wrap is crap. Great, I have to pull out great swaths of it and then layer them. Then comes the prosciutto. Oh, remember when I said I was getting really thin prosciutto? That was a mistake. All of my prosciutto is whisper thin and I am trying to untangle them from their neighbor. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh, please save me from deli specialists who listen and give you what you ask for. I need sheets to layer, not these cloud-like vaporous prosciutto wannabees. I try to lay them down to make a sheet. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fine. Fine. Just fine.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I spoon the mushroom chestnut mixture on top. Oh, did Gordon mention you can only spread in one direction? Because my prosciutto is coming up. Crap. Gordon, you are leaving a lot out. Maybe it is all my fault. I should have had thicker ham. I'm sure Gordon isn't at fault. He never is.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I get the filet out. I plop it down. I need more plastic wrap. Can I quit now? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I try to add plastic wrap to the left hand side. It sucks. I'm over it. I decide that the left hand side doesn't exist. I just won't look over there. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I start to roll it like Gordon did. It sort of works. Sort of, because my mushrooms are gooshing out of the bottom. Is that normal? Should I scrape them off? Or leave them. Gordon! You aren't very helpful. I'm leaving them. I'm sure that is a mistake. I have left the realm of good decisions and am wandering around in kitchen hell.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I try to finish rolling it with plastic wrap and do the fancy thing Gordon does. My plastic wrap laughs at me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I give up and throw it in the fridge. Fred and I go watch Maleficent. It is 7:30 pm.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I do the same for the puff pastry and we finally get the Wellington in the oven at 8 pm. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Gordon says (play the video if you don't believe me) to cook it at 200 for 30 minutes. I found the BBC recipe that said 220 for 30 minutes. So, being the rule follower I am, I put the over at 220 for 30 minutes.</div>
<h3>
RAW MEAT</h3>
<div>
At 8:30, we look at it and it is doughy. not brown and crispy at all. I turn on the broiler. Fake it, is my thought. I'm HUNGRY.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It browns. We take it out. We slice it. It is raw.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fred uses the thermometer. 83 degrees.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
GAHHHHHH. Gordon! You are nuts. 200 for 30 minutes is not how you cook meat.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We try for 15 more minutes. 97.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Finally, my hunger knows no bounds. I up it to 320 for 20 minutes and we get an internal temp of 110. We eat it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It tastes good. It is after 9. Way after 9. Still, I will never make this annoying dish again.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Aren't you glad you didn't come for dinner? <br />
<h3>
UPDATE:</h3>
<h3>
Still One More Mistake!</h3>
I post this and then a friend points out that Gordon is in England. Land of Celsius.<br />
<br />
OMG. 200 degrees Celsius is 392 degrees Fahrenheit. Did I really make that mistake? So, if we had just used our common sense and said, 220 degrees seems wrong. Really wrong. Instead of blindly thinking that everything that Gordon says must be blindly obeyed, I could have eaten at 8:30.<br />
<br />
Gordon, you really need to be much more comprehensive in these videos of yours. Like, I'm in England, silly Americans. Please make note of this as all my recipes are only for the English and will drive you Americans crazy on purpose.<br />
<br />
Does Jamie Oliver do this too?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-76714012181997212022014-01-25T20:35:00.001-08:002014-01-25T20:44:59.523-08:00The Brain at 50About six weeks ago a shooting pain started in my right elbow. I thought it would go away, so I ignored it. After all, at 50, lots of things hurt. But it didn't go away. It got more frequent and my co-worker seemed concerned and said I should take some aspirin.<br />
<br />
That got me worried. I did a little digging and was able to diagnose myself with deep vein thrombosis. Yeah, I was going to take aspirin FOR SURE! I made an appointment with the doctor. My symptoms got a little better.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I'd become a little congested and on the day of my appointment, I had a full on head cold. On the drive over to the doctor's office, I called Fred. "Is the doctor on Keene Road or Belcher?"<br />
<br />
"Belcher!" He said it with a tone in his voice like he was completely amazed that I would not know what road the doctor was on. It had been two years since I've been to the doctor's office, but still. I should have remembered. I said thanks and hung up.<br />
<br />
I did give one or two thoughts as to why I didn't remember, but soon was concentrating on traffic, which did seem to require more of my attention that morning.<br />
<br />
When I got to the doctor's office, they gave me a form to fill out because it had been two years since I had been in. I started to fill it out and stopped at the social security number section. The first five went pretty well. Then, the last four digits were a bit of a problem. I got the first two, but the second two, hmmmm. Did they go this way or this way? I just put a little question mark next to the numbers.<br />
<br />
Really? I've been coming here for 16 years. You don't know my social security number by now? I can't help you. (Actually, I really can't help you because I actually can't remember the order of those last two numbers. Figure it out yourselves.).<br />
<br />
The nurse called my name. I grabbed a tissue on my way in. I was really congested. We went back to the room and she began to ask me questions about what medications I took:<br />
<br />
"How much of that?" She asked.<br />
<br />
"Three." I grabbed a tissue and sneezed. Would my head explode? So much pressure.<br />
<br />
"No. How many milligrams?" She had my chart filled with 16 years of information in front of her.<br />
<br />
My head was pounding. I was sweating. It was like the road question. Belcher or Keene. And the social security number. "I don't know." She looked at the chart and wrote down a number.<br />
<br />
"How about this one?"<br />
<br />
"Oh. Just the one big pill." She was giving me an odd look. I started to get worried. Was I supposed to have all this memorized? I remembered my neurologist had given me a card to write all of this prescription nonsense down. I looked for it. I didn't have it. <br />
<br />
She consulted the chart and wrote something down. Damn. <br />
<br />
"And this one?" Am I getting graded on this? Is there a camera in here?<br />
<br />
"Point one two five." Woot! Score one for me. I stop myself from fist pumping. The next three were as needed, so yea me. But the last one I didn't know.<br />
<br />
"I don't know." She went back to her disappointed look. She glanced in her file and wrote it down. Damn it. If she had all the answers, why did she continue to ask me? Honestly! Why didn't I remember the strengths? Why didn't I remember the street the doctor was on? Why didn't I remember my SSN?<br />
<br />
Wait a minute. I'm 50 now. Do I have Alzheimer's?<br />
<br />
I wait until she leaves and then I pulled out my iPhone and looked up symptoms of Alzheimer's. I looked at the <a href="http://www.alz.org/alzheimers_disease_stages_of_alzheimers.asp">stages</a> of Alzheimer's.<br />
<ol>
<li>Stage 1 no impairment. OK </li>
<li>Stage 2 memory lapses. Check. Got those. Street names. Forgot them.</li>
<li>Stage 3 trouble remembering names, with memory. Check. Forget names all the time.</li>
<li>Stage 4 Impaired ability to perform challenging mental arithmetic — for example, counting backward from 100 by 7s</li>
</ol>
At this point I thought to myself<br />
<br />
100...93....................OMG! I have Alzheimer's! There was no way I could count back from 100 by 7s. Who does that?<br />
<br />
Then my doctor walked in.<br />
<br />
"And what are you here for today?" She said.<br />
<br />
I looked up at her from where I was sitting with my iPhone in my hand, still glowing with the stage 4 diagnosis and said, "Well, I thought I was here because my elbow hurt, but I think now that I have stage 4 Alzheimer's. I mean, I just turned fifty, and now I can't remember what street you are on or my medications. "<br />
<br />
She started to laugh. "You sound a little congested. Are you feeling ok?"<br />
<br />
"No. I have a cold."<br />
<br />
Turns out a cold will screw with your brain just as much as Alzheimer's, although I'm not really all that good with the counting backward, but at least I can get past 93! And I don't advise self diagnosis while at the doctor's office while you have a head cold! Or if you are the least bit of a hypochondriac, which evidently, I must fall into that category.<br />
<br />
I do advise that you see your doctor every year. That makes remembering what road they are on much easier.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-17521432513860044242014-01-12T10:35:00.002-08:002014-01-12T10:35:49.665-08:00Turning 50: Who Knew I Had Such Poetic Friends?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I turned 50 on Friday and contrary to what the media leads you to believe, it was quite an enjoyable experience. I've never been one to lament the turning of the years, so I didn't expect to gnash my teeth or have a nervous breakdown, but this joyful bit of harmony has been quite a boon.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Fred and I decided that in lieu of a present that we would just have a nice dinner out with friends. So, we invited friends to dinner and we had that dinner last night. My mom, who is ever thoughtful, bought lovely flowers for the table: </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9ktpZi01WwsGdTyepYM0pFH2kjB04pr5orddpjM_BvsmJZPNX0ZFq4MnbnCnl7slcG73bUi0qtREBarQgvlj-zWBO98dUzwylcvE4tC3ZbziUDscUgIUqq8iYHNbZDOxPXpO3og3F8Q/s1600/IMG_0519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9ktpZi01WwsGdTyepYM0pFH2kjB04pr5orddpjM_BvsmJZPNX0ZFq4MnbnCnl7slcG73bUi0qtREBarQgvlj-zWBO98dUzwylcvE4tC3ZbziUDscUgIUqq8iYHNbZDOxPXpO3og3F8Q/s1600/IMG_0519.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lovely bouquet that mom bought for the table. I sat by it. It had yellow, pink and orange flowers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My good friend Nancy, who also raises guide dog puppies seen with me below, was very sweet and got me a birthday tiara (how can you have a birthday without one?!) and balloons. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWdVBBN44mPBWA8JN7ql_qVjM7Jmo1ecCj4QHXuvpaMUaMboIOuASVEcbm0U-VlI0mEFbRUJVgkbemCco5HMHrtNBh1qpryPlOd722kgjo7U6tdhsqSxqJ3kL4wZaaBZI_gebd8zTwlw/s1600/IMG_0498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWdVBBN44mPBWA8JN7ql_qVjM7Jmo1ecCj4QHXuvpaMUaMboIOuASVEcbm0U-VlI0mEFbRUJVgkbemCco5HMHrtNBh1qpryPlOd722kgjo7U6tdhsqSxqJ3kL4wZaaBZI_gebd8zTwlw/s1600/IMG_0498.JPG" height="295" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheryl and Nancy. Cheryl has her tiara on and it matches her purple dress. How did Nancy know?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When Nancy asked Fred about the tiara and balloons I think Fred got a little nervous and didn't know what to say. Nancy just told him not to say anything and she would handle it! It worked out great!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxnDXmEtYIvJCOX28erB0nBoC_zm6EdST4bkU6ZzG7bXNTIYWzWKCXOQeECgYkupMdyuWAhtgb1Vr-DQvxolrmFiWQ0m0d8zBG3oNYcNWGHfNxQGOpCFxnWzFEDxNa6gl3otBLtOrX7Q/s1600/IMG_0518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMxnDXmEtYIvJCOX28erB0nBoC_zm6EdST4bkU6ZzG7bXNTIYWzWKCXOQeECgYkupMdyuWAhtgb1Vr-DQvxolrmFiWQ0m0d8zBG3oNYcNWGHfNxQGOpCFxnWzFEDxNa6gl3otBLtOrX7Q/s1600/IMG_0518.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The balloons were awesome. They are at home now.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Fred had asked people not to bring gifts, but to bring a poem or funny card instead. Several of our friends did write amazing poems. And I am realizing now that I didn't get photos with everyone! Poo! <div>
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<div>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPoChy0aAO-EPxMjkglaxWgAyRUP8-iJXi6sXsRTy4vcpOHlP3xE0JAdTh83yib3CC0bGGBbbKFvgUKB_j1hyphenhyphen8a66dpy0wDXAXCQhlgIIcN38dfs9pEhaHifkqlKBdNRxMRh6nx3O5QU/s1600/IMG_0503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPoChy0aAO-EPxMjkglaxWgAyRUP8-iJXi6sXsRTy4vcpOHlP3xE0JAdTh83yib3CC0bGGBbbKFvgUKB_j1hyphenhyphen8a66dpy0wDXAXCQhlgIIcN38dfs9pEhaHifkqlKBdNRxMRh6nx3O5QU/s1600/IMG_0503.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan, Cheryl and Nancy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It has been so much fun to add all of the amazing puppy raiser friends into our lives. We consider ourselves very blessed since we have moved to Florida to have such a nice friend group. It was really special to have this dinner and know that we truly do have lovely, kind friends.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA__BZ0XEtCMGeXS8VYTzM_1QJWa-xqBmJgwIS8A7PWP7jPUWdmS0c6bs6fuyrXxVEdW-XHE6DwEuSDwYv2Aa7vn_rR6oY1Xg3aE0QkswiedbJ5Q5zlXEBNVERQ6iaTUzRi_zONeXcFaA/s1600/IMG_0506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA__BZ0XEtCMGeXS8VYTzM_1QJWa-xqBmJgwIS8A7PWP7jPUWdmS0c6bs6fuyrXxVEdW-XHE6DwEuSDwYv2Aa7vn_rR6oY1Xg3aE0QkswiedbJ5Q5zlXEBNVERQ6iaTUzRi_zONeXcFaA/s1600/IMG_0506.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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What is so great is that our friends from all of our walks of life, Paradyne, Berkeley and puppy raising, come together and get along. It truly was a very enjoyable dinner last night. The couple on the left, Bob and Suzanne along with Patrick and Theresa gave me a concrete fire hydrant, which also doubles as a fountain. This hydrant (see below) caused quite a stir with the wait staff as they all wondered, What in the HELL did this mean? Finally, near the end of dinner, they could stand it no longer and sent the head waitress over to me to ask. I told them about raising guide dog puppies and that it was actually a fountain.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK-aQddj6WDfqnf4BSAfvoM3fmKUxC3Ivs7y6aLKJatu3KZJg5cFrJ8PUzMPQ1vwkg_AF-KNknB-3SkX1VrQ9lDT4wqgY76QL4ANLQlFOEYOaLJFTVr54c-jYs2jI5k7DjsVM60-QnWbE/s1600/IMG_0534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK-aQddj6WDfqnf4BSAfvoM3fmKUxC3Ivs7y6aLKJatu3KZJg5cFrJ8PUzMPQ1vwkg_AF-KNknB-3SkX1VrQ9lDT4wqgY76QL4ANLQlFOEYOaLJFTVr54c-jYs2jI5k7DjsVM60-QnWbE/s1600/IMG_0534.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fire hydrant lawn ornament for peeing or for a fountain! 8-)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It weighed a ton! Suzanne also got me a book by Gail Sheehy living a passionate life. Sounds interesting!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTnMj1WOm7KX0WbJdde5Z1i5nJcfjHs9uZUCyumN_Tr0NWj4UNP9VcK72h3Cgj9tu7_GtqpxNkF8tM9Axwv3hx3cGpCpRnII_2Q7z_oa_2L0hl0S6n9qYsTxnr31DZ724KNH1TGEib6w/s1600/IMG_0508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTnMj1WOm7KX0WbJdde5Z1i5nJcfjHs9uZUCyumN_Tr0NWj4UNP9VcK72h3Cgj9tu7_GtqpxNkF8tM9Axwv3hx3cGpCpRnII_2Q7z_oa_2L0hl0S6n9qYsTxnr31DZ724KNH1TGEib6w/s1600/IMG_0508.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice everyone but me is looking away.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I reverted back to the sorority photo days in the photo above. We used to have our formal parties and you always had a photographer walking around taking candid shots. Candid, haha. We would pose and shout, "Over here!" So, you got very good at realizing where the camera was and then smiling. This was one of those shots. Scary.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9E63HZatEawP1KFpLM7ESwWSzPvrleFWD81VmlarRacUvj8rxtAi7hCNzlCB9jqG9iQpazcSm6fLGEz8yTjQIOTdTGoWNIyPm9baLqZ-2vbZDaRcLNwE-JVUVPRnAWonqCvbyHFx858/s1600/IMG_0513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9E63HZatEawP1KFpLM7ESwWSzPvrleFWD81VmlarRacUvj8rxtAi7hCNzlCB9jqG9iQpazcSm6fLGEz8yTjQIOTdTGoWNIyPm9baLqZ-2vbZDaRcLNwE-JVUVPRnAWonqCvbyHFx858/s1600/IMG_0513.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Susan and Brian are first couple on the right hand side and then Ken and Linda are the second couple next to them down the table. Here is Susan's poem:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Nifty Shifty</div>
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Cheryl Is Fifty</div>
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Brian picked out a very funny card.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Now, Linda and Ken were bad and got me a present (super cool crochet bowl) and a card (thank you!), and it was a little too loud for everyone to hear Ken's wonderful poem, but here it is. He had an introduction that reference the our puppy blog and how it had made him laugh and cry and how much they enjoyed reading it.</div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Stopping by the hardware aisle while shopping</b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
With (many) apologies to Robert Frost </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
by Ken Ko</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Whose store this is I think I know.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Our friendly local Home Depot;</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Yet Jam thinks there's a men's room near;</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
A quite appalling place to go.</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I thought I made it very clear</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
That we would not be stopping here,</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Caught by surprise, I hadn't planned </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
To turn and see Jam's hunched up rear.</blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
If only there was some command</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
To stop this act in no man's land.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But he commits, so I do too.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
At least, I have things well in hand.</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The store has nuts, and bolts, and glue,</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But I have cleanup work to do, </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And miles to go so he can poo,</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And miles to go so he can poo. </blockquote>
<br />
Tremendous! If you want to read <a href="http://mcleanpup.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-never-dreamed-i-would-do-it-too.html">the original story</a>, click on the link. It is pretty funny, but I wouldn't want to do it again. Wait, I did. Damn. I need to stop doing that!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UBUog0se1sxveV6xVnVYMlA0u_KlmypXrMi7DqKIkDzpKelW1poblulXqSNbPnlQ0PUDhzr-KmcLpnFdoX5GwXtXLiyo0l658WPFFl4e7ATKs-y_BOs-qomBTGAix-e_4iKpTeDo1vc/s1600/IMG_0514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UBUog0se1sxveV6xVnVYMlA0u_KlmypXrMi7DqKIkDzpKelW1poblulXqSNbPnlQ0PUDhzr-KmcLpnFdoX5GwXtXLiyo0l658WPFFl4e7ATKs-y_BOs-qomBTGAix-e_4iKpTeDo1vc/s1600/IMG_0514.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Now, the first couple on the right is Michele and Erik and together with their son Kelland, they came up with this limerick (and a nice gift card):<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
There once was a woman, CD</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Who raised puppies to help people see.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
She liked to crochet little hats</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But never for cats</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Yet she is still our favorite lady!</blockquote>
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Woot! I love it. I also love the Downton Abbey card that the couple on the left gave me: Kim and Mark. They have been good friends for years and it was so good to have them with us at the celebration!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMi-CDIHus6Pu7xaqvY9cQv6XnTeLNos3GtTOMlx7JmVcX5CF9eB-xRlFbhdNnvi9KTK2D12y1OvcVvaFOt24LaQBTCG5s8ngd-xZR6gl3uhKlJWhwOu-NqdGIxEqsBAXgCjMYhgqWNDU/s1600/IMG_0535.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMi-CDIHus6Pu7xaqvY9cQv6XnTeLNos3GtTOMlx7JmVcX5CF9eB-xRlFbhdNnvi9KTK2D12y1OvcVvaFOt24LaQBTCG5s8ngd-xZR6gl3uhKlJWhwOu-NqdGIxEqsBAXgCjMYhgqWNDU/s1600/IMG_0535.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Downton Abby Card. Did you notice the poo bag?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />I have to say that Fred did an amazing job organizing and coordinating the whole dinner! He was splendid. I have the best husband there is! <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yhGq2RW3aT6CIZoxN6LXT9b6Pmthwq-eXWZU3JAgXZGY_-0sM0-8fpeyFIJNQeHzeatEs8mPBEsvywiVNHgZLjBafiVLjzSsVBGEa5UXC207kuAwnAKeGuGdfNEr5gttHuWCwzq85ZQ/s1600/IMG_0521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yhGq2RW3aT6CIZoxN6LXT9b6Pmthwq-eXWZU3JAgXZGY_-0sM0-8fpeyFIJNQeHzeatEs8mPBEsvywiVNHgZLjBafiVLjzSsVBGEa5UXC207kuAwnAKeGuGdfNEr5gttHuWCwzq85ZQ/s1600/IMG_0521.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred with balloons.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our friends Christy and Eliot gave me a really funny card (and a gift card) about the light at the end of the tunnel. I actually laughed out loud.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-b-mia.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/1503865_10152009331627239_91775873_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://scontent-b-mia.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/1503865_10152009331627239_91775873_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I stole this photo of them from their facebook site, because I don't have a shot of them together.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Here is there poem:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Roses are red</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Violets are blue</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If you get lost</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We will put out a silver alert for you!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Aren't they sweet?!</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4Gh9lvMemt6ZF5qBBh9l8DjWHQzvQZULm2opQyujWQe0Tj2FeWyNCGEQwiJHrboqU5HtthZ2laGVUScxG8EqAaHC1sc2AoEsW8eCQ9WHNMjzY3WuNKck6NQDmVXMZ79CGycBjxbBmXQ/s1600/IMG_0522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd4Gh9lvMemt6ZF5qBBh9l8DjWHQzvQZULm2opQyujWQe0Tj2FeWyNCGEQwiJHrboqU5HtthZ2laGVUScxG8EqAaHC1sc2AoEsW8eCQ9WHNMjzY3WuNKck6NQDmVXMZ79CGycBjxbBmXQ/s1600/IMG_0522.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred and Nancy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTSHaR_PjO10uK2kUeM99IVCLXLCwUqADSKv_bqS8g1ZE7loqUvCfa9TIwffOFoyJ0F5YWWZD9fffJFO1Qnutp2RDfjG5cAFR_4c3OIVpx3qUgSl0EvMJO0qnu8-FvL2tFhI9GBVZVko/s1600/IMG_0525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTSHaR_PjO10uK2kUeM99IVCLXLCwUqADSKv_bqS8g1ZE7loqUvCfa9TIwffOFoyJ0F5YWWZD9fffJFO1Qnutp2RDfjG5cAFR_4c3OIVpx3qUgSl0EvMJO0qnu8-FvL2tFhI9GBVZVko/s1600/IMG_0525.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheryl and Melisa.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Melisa, my screenwriting partner, found a fabulous screenwriting t-shirt for me and a cool Paris Tervis mug for me to use as we write. She is a very thoughtful gift giver. (A trait all my friends seem to share! I am very, very lucky.)</div>
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The final poem of the evening was written by Carrie and it was splendid!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-b-mia.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/227056_1029106291203_9836_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://scontent-b-mia.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/227056_1029106291203_9836_n.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carrie, from her facebook page.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
There once was a friend from Clearwater</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Who enjoyed being her own dog walker</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But one day without fear</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
She said, "Fred, Dear,</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I think we should raise dogs for others!"</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Bingo!" Said Fred "What's the plan?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Let's try not to get in a Jam.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I've got an approach,</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
We should get a Coach!"</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And so the adventure began.</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Willow said, "I was alone.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
A one dog house and my bone.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And now it's all screwy."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Her eyes got all Dewey </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Why wouldn't they just get a clone?</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
So Birthday Girl, here's to you</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
50 years, full of life and alive!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
You've got a big heart,</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
You're doing your part</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Let's stay at 49.95! </blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-NP7spQpCB_VdLQmS9tBZgddgRgW8yU05puT-_bkgK8LqiYvwua_1XTdbSEpAU53R6WeB59DwSfBOFJunZoxBTbbt6Xg28K1PMoyVG6yE84XeTgl5ub9q1-nSgBdqkzPQwixyMGp3A_4/s1600/IMG_0504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-NP7spQpCB_VdLQmS9tBZgddgRgW8yU05puT-_bkgK8LqiYvwua_1XTdbSEpAU53R6WeB59DwSfBOFJunZoxBTbbt6Xg28K1PMoyVG6yE84XeTgl5ub9q1-nSgBdqkzPQwixyMGp3A_4/s1600/IMG_0504.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nancy, Cheryl, Brian and Susan, with Susan clowning around!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And finally, the gang was all there. We had a few people who were either out of town, or sick or just couldn't make it, and we are sorry they couldn't! We missed you!! But we had you there in spirit. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4IkSZYwUvrGfulV3YW2GDnPeZIi7hr6wnYychAay2EMo5KWL3J1xF6hufAgI2tL2MABtLpdbRz6NFxbX4mLtKmumzBcfcAMQl9WMsPg_AlUDJ1nNuYEQpazNg7fi3PgpBYS8rLPqKkQ/s1600/IMG_0530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4IkSZYwUvrGfulV3YW2GDnPeZIi7hr6wnYychAay2EMo5KWL3J1xF6hufAgI2tL2MABtLpdbRz6NFxbX4mLtKmumzBcfcAMQl9WMsPg_AlUDJ1nNuYEQpazNg7fi3PgpBYS8rLPqKkQ/s1600/IMG_0530.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The gang!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Thanks for making my journey to the other side of 50 a pleasant one!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-12810064963845712802013-03-22T16:45:00.001-07:002013-03-22T16:45:43.736-07:00The Foolishness of Middle Age: When What You Did in the Past Leads You to Think You Can Do It in the PresentAh, youth. It leaves us with such pleasant memories. While most of the time I can't recall what I ate last night or who I sat next to in high school Spanish class, I do have some fond childhood memories that have hung around. One of them is of horseback riding. And so, when I was perusing the tourist brochure information for Santa Fe, considering that this was our fourth trip out to Santa Fe, I thought I would shake thing up a bit. Do some things that we hadn't done. Really go out of our way to try new places and be adventurous. After all, we didn't want to be accused of being old, stick in the muds, did we?<br />
<br />
So, when I saw the blurb about <a href="http://www.brokensaddle.com/">Broken Saddle</a> Riding Company, I thought, "This is perfect! We can take a two-hour horseback ride through lovely canyon trails and see amazing scenery. I've ridden horses before. Lots of times. In fact, people have said I am a good rider." (Foreshadowing: this was when I was 12.)<br />
<br />
Flash forward to Monday in Santa Fe and me on the phone with the very matter of fact Harrold Grantham, owner of Broken Saddle. He wanted to know how much I weighed and and how tall I was and whether I had ever cantered before. Now, I would have been a bit put off if I hadn't read the google reviews that warned me that if you weighed over 200 pounds that you had better forget about riding horses with Broken Saddle. The weight restriction was somewhere between 210 and 235 according to reviews I had read. They said you had better own up to your true weight. OK! They also said you needed to be honest about your abilities. OK!<br />
<br />
<h4>
IN WHICH I AM GRILLED BY A COWBOY</h4>
Fred was lying on the bed dozing, when Harrold started asking me questions:<br />
<br />
"How much does your husband weigh and how tall is he?" I asked Fred for the data. He told me and I told Harrold. Harrold asked me for my stats and I gave him what I thought was a true range given that I hadn't been friends with a scale in many months.<br />
<br />
Then came the real question. "Are you a beginner? Or can you canter?"<br />
<br />
"I can canter, but I don't think Fred can canter."<br />
<br />
Fred immediately sat up. "I can canter!"<br />
<br />
"You can canter?" I looked doubtful. I put a hand on my hip and tilted my head as if to say, when have YOU cantered?<br />
<br />
"I've cantered." He went back to lying down on the bed. <br />
<br />
"Ok, we can both canter." I told Harrold. I was banking firmly on my years of Girl Scout horseback riding and those times when I went riding in the mountains with friends. In retrospect, how any times did I actually go riding? Well, anyway, I have cantered. I have, I have. I can see myself cantering.<br />
<br />
Harrold said, "Great. I have you both down for Wednesday. Advanced beginners."<br />
<br />
<h4>
WHERE I LEARN WHAT REAL HORSEBACK RIDING INVOLVES</h4>
<div>
It all started to go a bit wrong when we got there.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrp3fo92_XomxtgQK4rVlpf2YPgGGHMTJe2dI1n0tWaUTyY2L8De3nPAemAViKrdVVKSFYJ3L2IiFne4uXUaIHA_hlOF0qtOSm6k3KNIHLl6vxWOs4wPyd7EHHYMH5wz2pUcGOuMheoYc/s1600/IMG_1980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrp3fo92_XomxtgQK4rVlpf2YPgGGHMTJe2dI1n0tWaUTyY2L8De3nPAemAViKrdVVKSFYJ3L2IiFne4uXUaIHA_hlOF0qtOSm6k3KNIHLl6vxWOs4wPyd7EHHYMH5wz2pUcGOuMheoYc/s320/IMG_1980.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Broken Saddle sign.</td></tr>
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<div>
Looks like a nice place doesn't it? It's in the town of Cerrillos, which has a population of about 300. It's a very small place. Broken Saddle is in the historic part of town. A very old section of a very old mining town that sits next to a national park that has beautiful views of several different mountain ranges.<br />
<br />
When we arrived, Stephanie, who was to be our guide, and Harrold, were getting our horses ready. Harrold noticed right away that Fred was dressed like a New Mexican, not bundled up like someone from out of town: LIKE ME. But it was said in a really nice way. And I was toasty warm in my big yellow Lands End fleece-lined coat with my scarf and three layers of clothing. I resembled a female version of the Micheline man. If I didn't weigh 200 pounds when I was talking to him on the phone Monday night, I was probably edging close to it with all my clothes on now!<br />
<br />
Fred and I took a quick potty break and when we got back, our third rider had joined us: David. David lives in the area and is an actor, professor and all around amazing guy and was just there to get some pointers on his riding style BEFORE HE STARTED SHOOTING A FILM ON MONDAY WITH JUDE LAW AND NATALIE PORTMAN. Great. No pressure.<br />
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9H2ZtaMTxCanB-DzhIE11X9vSiKRDH7eNpii3HL6ahxdCdwJQIPmyEaSG-G7PqbbtUus492s3WfugkXdy_2K54OEwGI35A3a0Y9o-zxp8tAXnmTgfhied8ANYb7UUA0UBMNdbHSKbQzQ/s1600/IMG_1995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9H2ZtaMTxCanB-DzhIE11X9vSiKRDH7eNpii3HL6ahxdCdwJQIPmyEaSG-G7PqbbtUus492s3WfugkXdy_2K54OEwGI35A3a0Y9o-zxp8tAXnmTgfhied8ANYb7UUA0UBMNdbHSKbQzQ/s320/IMG_1995.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stephanie, our guide and David, soon to be in Jane Got a Gun.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, Mr. I Ride Horses A Lot is coming on our ride to get tips on his riding form. I am starting to feel a little inadequate. Harrold and David start trading movie stories about how you can tell whether someone knows how to ride or not by how they approach a horse. Harrold goes into this really funny story about a friend of his who got a part on the film <i>The 3:10 to Yuma</i> after being coached by Harrold and I'm thinking, "I know nothing about how to approach a horse!"<br />
<br />
But after the story, I know that you give it two slaps on the nick and don't kiss it. Crap. What was I thinking. I had come prepared to ace a basic Spanish test and everyone here is in AP Spanish 5! I am so out of my league. I don't even think I can fake my way out of this.<br />
<br />
<h4>
IN WHICH WE ARE ASSIGNED HORSES</h4>
<div>
Harrold pulls a horse forward and looks at us. I am standing there motionless thinking to myself, "Don't call my name! Don't call my name!" I don't want to go first. I am suddenly realizing that all my Girls Scout training is for sh*t and that I don't know crap about riding horses. Advanced beginner my ass. I'm less than a beginner. I should be in the baby beginner class. Do they have an infant class? A fetus class. Yeah, get me in that class!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Fred, get up here. This is Duke."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Oh, thank God! Fred is first." I think to myself. I was, honest to God, praying. Someone heard me. The buzzing in my head has lessened somewhat. I can hear Harrold again.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Now, most people think that you hold on to the horn, but you don't." What! OMG! He's telling us not to hold on to the horn. OMG! Wait, what did he say? He's on about something, "keep your heels down" blah blah blah "thighs" OMG what is this about not holding the horn? Why else is it there if you aren't supposed to hold on to it?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Harrold is now explaining the true purpose of the horn as my mind rebels and I am feeling a little faint. Evidently my legs are supposed to do all the work. Oh great. They are sure ready for that. Then he calls my name. Fortunately, David gets called at the same time, so no one is watching as Danvers and I meet and I get settled on her. She is, I will come to learn, lazy and eager to be at the back of the pack. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
IN WHICH CANTERING BECOMES A SERIOUS LIFE THREATENING EVENT</h4>
<div>
Now you have to understand that I am the oldest child. As such, I take rules quite seriously. So, being told that I needed to NOT hold the horn and I needed to keep my heels DOWN and I need to use my THIGHS to stay on the saddle, I tried my best to do all of these things.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I was trying so hard to do all of these things that I really couldn't be bothered to look around at the scenery. I would hear the occasional remark from someone about it being lovely and put my head up, but for the most part, I was living in terror for when we were going to canter. And then it happened. Stephanie said, "Let's kick it."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And so I did.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was so bad. Really bad. So bad, I thought Stephanie might fall off her horse she was so startled. Evidently, I was leaning REALLY far off to the left. Perilously out to the left. and I had really loose reins, so Danvers could do whatever the hell she wanted and there I was, no hand on the horn, flying way out on the left side, free like a bird in the wind, yet, not screaming like I felt like doing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Stephanie had us stop. She said, "Hey, Cheryl! You were really leaning out to the left side!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Oh, really?" OMG! Kill me now. Don't let's do that again. Please let me hold the horn!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Yeah! You need to shorten up on those reins quite a bit and get centered."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"OK." Or just kill me. You could just kill me. And the horrible other part of me was thinking, poor David, he has a film to go to. What if he doesn't get enough cantering because of the awful old woman in his horse group? What if he fails because of me? I can't not canter! I have to suck it up. "OK. I'll do that."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
IN WHICH I FIGURE OUT A SNEAKY WAY TO HOLD THE HORN AND DANVERS' LAZINESS IS EXPOSED</h4>
<div>
After the second round of cantering where I still leaned, but not so scarily, I finally figured out a way to sneak my hand around the base of the horn and not appear to be actually holding the horn. I'm sure Stephanie probably knew, but by this time, I didn't care. I was just trying to hang on.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As we reached a long straightaway, Stephanie said, "This is where the horses really like to let loose."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Joy." I thought to myself. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Everyone broke into a happy canter and Danvers broke into her sneaky rocking trot. I, however was prepared for her. After the last canter, Stephanie had warned me that Danvers was lazy and that the reason I was having trouble with the canter was Danvers was doing a rocking trot that was really uncomfortable because she didn't want to run in a canter. I would have to kick her into a trot. Leave it to me to have to get the horse that needed an alpha. And I am such a dominant personality too! Every time Danvers tried to creep back into a painful rocking trot, I would kick her back into a canter and it was smooth and lovely. It was almost worth it. I felt almost centered. I felt almost good. And then we stopped and I blew it by forgetting which hand had the reins and screwing up my stop just as Stephanie and David looked at me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh for Pete's sake. Could I never catch one break?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVL6GWlsQIox9DdFrigp-MHsQYFJlQTLlMxAFIdn8hIWd-7vOJckbfITn8vS-HEV5hz3Uet9x_XfF3IHArkGZ7lKP-NYTF4JN7OfYtYfBuwg4yBbQBUprXjRvie4CAsJwuw6OrX85kpVo/s1600/IMG_1987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVL6GWlsQIox9DdFrigp-MHsQYFJlQTLlMxAFIdn8hIWd-7vOJckbfITn8vS-HEV5hz3Uet9x_XfF3IHArkGZ7lKP-NYTF4JN7OfYtYfBuwg4yBbQBUprXjRvie4CAsJwuw6OrX85kpVo/s320/IMG_1987.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred and I seated on Duke and Danvers, respectively. We are smiling.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
I made it through the ride. I would say that if I were to do it again, I would categorize myself as a beginner who could not canter. Broken Saddle Riding Company is a serious horseback riding company and you need to know your stuff. They are professionals. They have great horses. They have amazing scenery. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you haven't cantered in last 5 years, you are not an advanced beginner. And if you don't heed my warning, then you will be like me, hobbling around like I have been for the past two days. In pain. Barely able to move. Because you tried to make your thighs do all the work and not hold the horn.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Heed me now, or heed me later!</div>
<div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-17559753095757696262012-08-15T06:14:00.001-07:002012-08-15T06:14:24.252-07:00YALSA Creates App for Finding Teen BooksJust read about a great new app in the Summer 2012 YALSA magazine. It is called the <a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/yalsas-teen-book-finder/id527674308?mt=8">Teen Book Finder</a> and it is available for free from iTunes. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a2.mzstatic.com/us/r1000/116/Purple/v4/0e/2d/fc/0e2dfc08-fc55-b258-8737-bab9de15ee26/g45BVCnndyP3ZLA2cSLZgg-temp-upload.ehqrsdly.320x480-75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Screenshot of the Teen Book Finder" border="0" height="320" src="http://a2.mzstatic.com/us/r1000/116/Purple/v4/0e/2d/fc/0e2dfc08-fc55-b258-8737-bab9de15ee26/g45BVCnndyP3ZLA2cSLZgg-temp-upload.ehqrsdly.320x480-75.jpg" title="Screenshot of the Teen Book Finder" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screenshot of the Teen Book Finder</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a2.mzstatic.com/us/r1000/066/Purple/v4/36/46/78/3646788c-6378-988d-d3cd-92a2d4eb4acc/g45BVCnndyP3ZLA2cSLZgg-temp-upload.qethvyux.320x480-75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Screenshot of the Teen Book Finder" border="0" height="320" src="http://a2.mzstatic.com/us/r1000/066/Purple/v4/36/46/78/3646788c-6378-988d-d3cd-92a2d4eb4acc/g45BVCnndyP3ZLA2cSLZgg-temp-upload.qethvyux.320x480-75.jpg" title="Screenshot of the Teen Book Finder" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screenshot of the Teen Book Finder
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-2258389440006706302012-06-10T07:11:00.001-07:002012-06-10T07:11:04.640-07:00<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12680907-bitterblue" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Bitterblue (Graceling Realm, #3)" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1331532273m/12680907.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12680907-bitterblue">Bitterblue</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1373880.Kristin_Cashore">Kristin Cashore</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/343597099">3 of 5 stars</a><br />
<br />
Bitterblue is a sequel to Graceling, but not to Fire . It does take place about 8 years later in the Graceling timeline. You really need to read the one before the other. There are just too many relationships and interconnections that begin in the first one and continue in the second that for you not to have read the first you will have missed out on quite a lot.<br />
<br />
Now, having said all of that, and being a school librarian, let me state that this book is definitely for grades 9 and up. It is a fantasy book, but it is a dark fantasy and there are some very serious subjects covered (rape, murder, cutting, mind control) and while these are not graphically detailed, it does make for some <b><spoiler alert!!!=""> </spoiler></b>creepy diary entries. There is a love scene between the main character and one of her male interests (I won't spoil it by saying who), but it is off the page and circumspect.<span style="display: none;">[ creepy diary entries. There is a love scene between the main character and one of her male interests (I won't spoil it by saying who), but it is off the page and circumspect.<br /><br />I found myself carrying the book from room to room and really being fascinated by the plot. However, I just couldn't see how it was all going to tie up. It does, but it seems to take an inordinately long time for it to happen. And Bitterblue seems to take a long time coming to realize that the mountains of paperwork are delaying tactics and she should be suspicious. So, while I loved the characterization of Bitterblue and her new friends she finds in the city and the returning friends from Graceling, I was frustrated by the convoluted nature of the plot. Some characters were lovely: Giddon and I love Death (pronounced like teeth) and Lovejoy. The setting of the town was great and you get a real sense of the castle and how Leck has really destroyed this city and her people. <br /><br />It's a fascinating book. Really and truly. I enjoyed reading it. But I was also a bit let down at the ending. I'm not sure what happens next and that left me with an unresolved feeling.<br /><br />I thought Graceling was tied up more neatly. This one meandered a bit. As my review is doing.... <a href="" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer;">(hide spoiler)</a>]</span><br />
<div class="reviewText mediumText description" itemprop="reviewBody">
<br />I found myself carrying the book from room to room and really being fascinated by the plot. However, I just couldn't see how it was all going to tie up. It does, but it seems to take an inordinately long time for it to happen. And Bitterblue seems to take a long time coming to realize that the mountains of paperwork are delaying tactics and she should be suspicious. So, while I loved the characterization of Bitterblue and her new friends she finds in the city and the returning friends from Graceling, I was frustrated by the convoluted nature of the plot. Some characters were lovely: Giddon and I love Death (pronounced like teeth) and Lovejoy. The setting of the town was great and you get a real sense of the castle and how Leck has really destroyed this city and her people. <br /><br />It's a fascinating book. Really and truly. I enjoyed reading it. But I was also a bit let down at the ending. I'm not sure what happens next and that left me with an unresolved feeling.<br /><br />I thought Graceling was tied up more neatly. This one meandered a bit. As my review is doing....</div>
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-88719073758663445182012-02-11T13:51:00.000-08:002012-02-11T13:51:31.823-08:00Awesome Day, Awesome Keyword Worksheet<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">We have recently redesigned our keyword search sheets and have found that we are getting better results from the kids than we were before. It is fascinating how the whole design process works. We will be having Grant Wiggins come in and teach us about backward design and can possibly make it even more successful, but I have been delighted in the response to this new worksheet. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Our history teachers are amazingly collaborative and give up time to us to have the kids do the worksheets and have them as homework in order to get a better research question as a result. Too often students would start with a broad topic and the keyword worksheet would give them lots of keywords, but they weren't relevant or weren't specific in a way that helped them to derive a narrow research question. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">So, we thought about what our intention was: to have the worksheet funnel them down to a narrowed topic that would then bring them to create a narrowed research question. We hand out the a double sided worksheet to the kids the night before with instructions to fill it out on the topic of censorship on the front. We will go over that topic as a class. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">They are to find keywords relating to who, what, where, when and why (causes and outcomes) and then come up with a narrowed question. As they read their encyclopedia article on censorship (whatever kind they choose), they will begin to narrow down the type of censorship they are looking for, say, book censorship</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Who: Ray Bradbury, </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">Fahrenheit 451, Joseph Stalin, Native American Indians</span></span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"> </span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">What: book censorship,textbook censorship, government censorship</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Where: High School</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">When: 3rd century BC to present</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Why: </span></span><span style="text-indent: 0in;">Teens are given
fewer choices to read; s</span><span style="text-indent: 0in;">ubject matter may
not reflect the reality of a historical event, based on the perceived feelings
of the governing community (Native Americans, for example)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Narrowed Topic: </span></span><h2 style="margin-left: .25in;">
Is our
history education being adversely affected by textbook censorship?</h2>
</li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I watched a girl go from doing a paper on </span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Jerusalem</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">, to doing research on how Islam, Christianity and Judaism portrayed Jerusalem in their sacred texts and what that could mean. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">It was working!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Then came the moment that they had to find primary sources, and secondary sources. We had told them all where to go. They had their keyword worksheets. But would they use them?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Some did. Most promptly forgot them and had to be reminded repeatedly to get them out and look at them. Sigh.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">It's a process.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">However, I did have an awesome librarian moment.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> I taught a freshman boy how to search the Hathi Digital Trust, how to search within his text and find relevant pages and how to use the google site:edu command. About 5 minutes later, he was helping his neighbor find info and taught his neighbor how to use the Hathi Digital Trust and the site:edu command and said, "I learned everything I know from her." Meaning me and searching techniques! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Woot! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">I was so proud of him. Another kid in the class turned around and said, "Hey, you better apply to be a library proctor."</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSvFyzwz7NAOnlOa37V05rcPnoYEUWF-JgU6UsGNfzqdbWc26KLfL_TqensKx13F-ZrSU4NG9UAMgnMBLyyPfCVa49J97-D56Fgte2OhdUcfVkXqBiGzNK00ZQSslTnwXNrS0l6MVSL_w/s1600/jam+at+circ+desk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSvFyzwz7NAOnlOa37V05rcPnoYEUWF-JgU6UsGNfzqdbWc26KLfL_TqensKx13F-ZrSU4NG9UAMgnMBLyyPfCVa49J97-D56Fgte2OhdUcfVkXqBiGzNK00ZQSslTnwXNrS0l6MVSL_w/s320/jam+at+circ+desk.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jam, our library guide dog in training, checking a book out to a student.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 18px;">Yes. He better. He's on our list of awesome kids.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-30183484277321388662012-01-08T12:38:00.000-08:002012-01-08T12:38:04.145-08:00Great book for those hard to please boys<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9943245-au-revoir-crazy-european-chick" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Au Revoir, Crazy European Chick" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1311649583m/9943245.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9943245-au-revoir-crazy-european-chick">Au Revoir, Crazy European Chick</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/263547.Joe_Schreiber">Joe Schreiber</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/258508401">5 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
Awesome, fun read! Give to those high schoolers who don't like to read and I guarantee they will like this. Should appeal to both guys and girls. The pace is high octane fast! Essentially, Perry Stormaire is a senior, with a lawyer father who runs his life (read: Tiger Dad) and he is trying to get into Columbia. The family has invited a foreign exchange student into their house for the year and instead of a gorgeous co-ed, they get Gobi. Plain, banal, and needing much help, Gobi, whom good guy Perry looks out for at school.<br />
<br />
<br />But when his parents pressure him into taking Gobi to the prom as his date, the train comes off the track and that's when it all starts to go completely nuts! So if you have teens who like action, assassins, mysteries, underdog heroes, a touch of romance, and some very close calls with death, the police and general mayhem, give them this book.<br />
<br />
<br />I can't tell you any more than to say that it kept me at the edge of my seat, so much that I finished reading it in two nights. The characters are great. The writing is funny, touching and really draws you into the moment. Two of my favorite lines from the book are: "I couldn't remember the theme of the prom but it seemed to be something along the lines of Social Darwinism Under the Stars. Lights and shimmering tinsel had transformed the gymnasium into a pulsating soup of glandular hostility." I mean reallY! How can you not love it?<br />
<br />
<br />I will say that having read some of the complaints about this book, you need to think of this book as a fantasy book, not a reality book. It's like a die-hard movie. Clearly, you will have to suspend belief. But if you can do that, it will be a fun ride.<br />
<br />
<br />A nice touch was having each chapter open with a college application question which the chapter then proceeded to answer in a roundabout way, which all plays into the climatic ending.<br />
<br />
<br />A must read for this year!<br />
<br /><br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-71250033215991989442011-12-23T06:21:00.000-08:002011-12-23T06:23:52.105-08:00Vampyres of Hollywood<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3375320-vampyres-of-hollywood" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Vampyres of Hollywood (Vampyres of Hollywood, #1)" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1312042179m/3375320.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3375320-vampyres-of-hollywood">Vampyres of Hollywood</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16036.Adrienne_Barbeau">Adrienne Barbeau</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/250367547">2 of 5 stars</a><br />
<br />
I stand by my earlier statement in a review of a vampire book where the author had changed the vampire rules so that they could walk in the sun: YOU RUIN VAMPIRES AND YOU RUIN THE TENSION. There is something deliciously dark (no pun, or maybe, yes, pun intended) about having to live in the night. Darn it! They are creatures of the night! When you change it, you ruin it. I'm sorry, that's just the way I feel. Moving on....<br />
<br />
So, the rest of this story features a madcap murder mystery that barely holds together. It is told in alternating chapters by the police detective and the Chatelaine of Hollywood (head vampire and scream queen actress) as they both try to figure out who is killing actors, agents, directors. There is some language and mentions of bondage and S&M clubs and the sheer brutality and gore of the murder scenes pop this up to 11th grade at least if not a faculty read.<br />
<br />
I think the authors traded in a fast moving plot for character development. I never felt an emotional connection to any of the main characters and therefore didn't care if they lived or died, making it hard to get through the end of the book. I did finish it, but at the end instead of being breathless at the huge fight, I was ho hum.<br />
<br />
And the huge fight at the end? Doesn't make any sense. It's not even worth writing a spoiler to try and figure it out.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-70405241563273208292011-12-21T07:27:00.000-08:002011-12-21T07:27:05.943-08:00Collection Development: A Few ThoughtsThis year we have a new headmaster. While, this is nothing new to us in terms of what we do, we have found some small changes in policy are necessary. <br />
<br />
Fortunately, what that means is that we are getting more departments involved in the selection of materials. Of course, one of those hot button areas is the health and sex education sections of the collection. One thing I would advise that school librarians do is to periodically look over your section, take the whole section down and then ask the relevant teachers to come over (for coffee and donuts, wine and cheese, whatever works for your school) and have a short meeting and go over the books that you currently have and have some print outs of books that you may want to order. <br />
<br />
By opening the dialog and asking for help on a proactive basis and by having the materials right in front of them, you can ask if the materials meet the curriculum and the needs of the students. Since that section can be a hot button issue, you can also begin to create some allies and a conversation about what it is that they need and how you can help them with resources. <br />
<br />
Furthermore, with this particular subject matter, I would advise that you treat material on it as you would graphic novels. My policy with graphic novels is to never put one on the shelf until I have looked or read every page, because graphic novels can look innocuous and yet be very adult and you don't want to label them for middle school, when they are for high school only. I don't trust reviews on graphic novels.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-4030819152973669282011-12-21T07:06:00.001-08:002011-12-21T07:27:54.874-08:00Death Comes to Pemberly<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12875355-death-comes-to-pemberley" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Death Comes to Pemberley" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1318936579m/12875355.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12875355-death-comes-to-pemberley">Death Comes to Pemberley</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/344522.P_D_James">P.D. James</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/248531672">3 of 5 stars</a><br />
<br />
It's tough to take on one of the most beloved books of all time. Well, at least if you love Pride and Prejudice, you REALLY love it. So, anyone messing with it had better get it right. <br />
<br />
<br />
I've tried to read several books that were "sequels" to P&P mostly because I miss those characters so much that I want someone to get it right. PD James does and she doesn't. She does what she does best, which is write a mystery. She tries really hard to stay true to the characters and to move us down the road to finding out what has happened and what is going to happen in their lives and for that I think she deserves some credit because she did do it in a pretty entertaining way. I was intrigued enough to read the whole book and I am one of those people who will drop a book after the first 50 pages. <br />
<br />
<br />
I think she also had a vision in mind for Lydia and Wickham (Did he do it? Will he be convicted?) and for that I love her. You can tell that for all these years the way Austen left Lydia and Wickham in Elizabeth and Darcy's world as their family connection has bothered her and James needed to write out her own version of how to correct it for the Darcy's. You have to love her for going to this trouble.<br />
<br />
<br />
However, what is missing from the book is characterization. We get a lot of plot and little of the entrancing interactions between characters that was so entertaining in P&P. And that is where my chief disappointment lies. She tried so hard and obviously had a clear vision of where she wanted to go. She was thorough in her use of language of the time (although not as gifted as Austen, but who could be), but she lacked the interplay, dialog, scenes and outright fighting and comedy that marked P&P as such a classic.<br />
<br />
<br />
In the end, it is worth reading to see her unique vision, but it is not a true sequel. I am still waiting for that to be written.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a><br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-31854001017371437972011-11-15T06:49:00.001-08:002011-11-15T06:49:10.821-08:00<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7664713-vesper" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Vesper (Deviants, #1)" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1281478940m/7664713.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7664713-vesper">Vesper</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/223885.Jeff_Sampson">Jeff Sampson</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/235742140">5 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
Emily Webb is a geek. Well, that's how it starts out. Hmmm. Actually, it starts with her half in and out of a window all dressed up and uncharacteristically tarted up for a night on the town that her usual 16-year-old self would be mortified she was considering having. <br />
<br />
<br />What is going on with Emily Webb? In fact, what is going on in her town? Emily Cooke is murdered, and a chain of events is kicked off that has the reader racing through pages trying to figure out what is happening before something either kills Emily Webb from the outside or from inside her own body (what are these strange changes that come over her? Are they getting worse?).<br />
<br />
<br />And what about the chapters that are interspersed in between her story where it appears Emily Webb has been captured and is being held prisoner? What is going on? What are those noises? I think something wicked is coming down the road. Something delightfully wicked. Something for which I need to turn the page and read on.<br />
<br />
<br />Please, let there be more in this series! I just can't stand the wait.<br />
<br /><br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-70394530390478038822011-11-08T12:17:00.001-08:002011-11-08T12:17:27.220-08:00<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7268549-the-glass-demon" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="The Glass Demon" border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51vCndd5IqL._SX106_.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7268549-the-glass-demon">The Glass Demon</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/653461.Helen_Grant">Helen Grant</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/232902316">5 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
I finished her first book, The Vanishing of Katharina Linden, in a day. I could not put it down. It was smart, funny and uber-frightening. This one ratchets the fright down and isn't funny at all, but is a speeding train of mystery and teen angst and murder!<br /><br />Lin Fox is yanked off to Germany right when she should be in her last year of high school in England. Her older sister is in the middle of a crisis, her mother and their younger brother Ru are something of an odd pair of ducks. It is the father, a medieval scholar trying to get his professorship, who is the one who puts his family in danger with his obsessive need to find the Allerheiligen stained glass. Glass so storied that many believe it to be cursed if not lost or destroyed hundreds of years earlier.<br /><br />Faced with mounting bodies, all surrounded by pieces of glass, Lin and her new found (boy)friend Michel try to put it all together before something horrible happens closer to home. Will she be able to find the Allerheiligen stained glass? Will she find love? Will she find the demon?<br /><br />Read on!<br />
<br /><br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a><br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-56931428427727246112011-10-30T19:11:00.001-07:002011-10-30T19:11:42.298-07:00<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8584951-girls-like-us" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Girls Like Us: Fighting for a World Where Girls Are Not for Sale, an Activist Finds Her Calling and Heals Herself" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1279214244m/8584951.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8584951-girls-like-us">Girls Like Us: Fighting for a World Where Girls Are Not for Sale, an Activist Finds Her Calling and Heals Herself</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2057816.Rachel_Lloyd">Rachel Lloyd</a><br />
My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/229249089">5 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
I was a little nervous about adding this book to the collection as it is a book about the sex trafficking trade. However, it was a starred review and recommended for teens. So, when it arrived, I put it on my list of books to read. <br />
<br />
<br />I was pleasantly surprised. It was fabulous. Ms. Lloyd is to be commended, not only for writing a wonderful book on a topic that many Americans don't think about (the American sex slave, child prostitute), but for opening up her own life for as a lens to use for looking at the trade.<br />
<br />
<br />While there is harsh language and sometimes there are some situations that are described that are distasteful(abuse, etc.), she is able to convey all of it without resorting to graphic descriptions of the sex act itself. So, while it is definitely a grade 9 and above purchase, it should be a purchase for any high school library that has a group of students who are into social activism, who are inspired by women who make something of their lives or who are involved in Model United Nations and might be working on committees with topics dealing with sex trafficking issues. <br />
<br /><br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a><br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-57927028243412329292011-07-25T03:33:00.000-07:002011-07-25T04:40:30.160-07:00The Code of Best Practices in Fair Use for Media Literacy EducationIn every cry of every Man,<br />In every Infants cry of fear,<br />In every voice; in every ban,<br />The mind forg'd manacles I hear<br /><br />William Blake, London (and the Introduction to <em>Fair Use Reclaimed</em>)<br /><br />In about three weeks, I will be giving a presentation to the faculty about fair use and copyright. It will be based on the book <em>Reclaiming Fair Use: How to Put Balance Back in Copyright</em> by Patricia Aufderheide and Peter Jaszi.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNStOdrOvJC21mcXXx-QCpiFqkj0fv7wI9lI_6JWX-ex_kJSEEIdns8zYGUtjLTg8Y3xup0eSg4Sb8SsW7BEcIOjueJYf-vuJMqpGl4QMK2oHEOOEs_Eki48ntq_Ql1W7ZdCazZ3yRqds/s1600/reclaiming+cover.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633237548529706578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNStOdrOvJC21mcXXx-QCpiFqkj0fv7wI9lI_6JWX-ex_kJSEEIdns8zYGUtjLTg8Y3xup0eSg4Sb8SsW7BEcIOjueJYf-vuJMqpGl4QMK2oHEOOEs_Eki48ntq_Ql1W7ZdCazZ3yRqds/s400/reclaiming+cover.jpg" /></a> It includes <em><a href="http://www.centerforsocialmedia.org/fair-use/related-materials/codes/code-best-practices-fair-use-media-literacy-education">The Code of Best Practices in Fair Use for Media Literacy Education.</a></em><a href="http://www.centerforsocialmedia.org/fair-use/related-materials/codes/code-best-practices-fair-use-media-literacy-education"></a><br /><br />I think the Code of Best Practices is one of the most important documents for educators and school librarians to come out in a very long time. It takes copyright from a place of fear and puts it back to a reasonable, fair use. And through the Code, it gives us a foundation to practice fair use, which is from which we get our our rights as educators and librarians. Legal scholar Kenneth Crews has an journal article (<a href="http://moritzlaw.osu.edu/lawjournal/issues/volume62/number2/crews.pdf">"The Law of Fair Use and the Illusion of Fair-Use Guidelines," The Ohio State Law Journal 62 (2001): 602–700</a>) that is referenced in both the book and the Code and Mr. Crews is interviewed in the video below that is very interesting reading on the classroom guidelines many of may have been following for years. We can now throw those out and use the Code.<br /><br />The Center for Media Studies uses blip.tv for their downloadable videos, which is not very user friendly. I've reformatted it to youtube for those of you who need that format (say for a blog or prezi). The video is great.<br /><br /><iframe height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/AXXS8_6ZEzA" frameborder="0" width="400"></iframe><br /><br />I'm creating a prezi for this presentation to my faculty and I will post it when it is complete.<br /><br />The Code is brief. I recommend you read it. Trying to give a synopsis, I think, would only confuse a concise and to the point document.<em></em><em></em><em></em></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-2536911317837908292011-07-01T14:17:00.000-07:002011-07-01T14:26:22.481-07:00<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2767052-the-hunger-games" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games, #1)" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1293504845m/2767052.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2767052-the-hunger-games">The Hunger Games</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/153394.Suzanne_Collins">Suzanne Collins</a><br/><br />My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/181177389">5 of 5 stars</a><br /><br /><br />Yep. This one is a super winner. As far as post-apocalyptic fantasy stories go, this one is ready made for for 8th grade and up. Perhaps, 7th if they have strong stomachs as it is rather violent.<br /><br/><br /><br/>The Hunger Games. Every district gives two tributes, children between the ages of 12-18 a boy and a girl who must compete to the death until there is only one winner. Katniss is from District 12, the poorest district, the coal mining district and she is also a girl used to living on the edge of hunger, used to hunting in secret, and she possess an edge that might help her. But is it enough? She volunteers to go in place of her 12 year old sister Prim, which puts her with Peeta, a boy with whom she has some history. But does Peeta hold true feelings for her or is it all for show? For the television cameras? <br /><br/><br /><br/>This book blends our love of reality TV shows with fantasy books and gives it a romantic twist. It is a great page turner and don't forget your tissues!<br /><br/><br/><br /><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-31840046807000950922011-06-29T14:08:00.000-07:002011-06-29T14:10:08.112-07:00<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3591262-cutting-for-stone" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="Cutting for Stone" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1255630895m/3591262.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3591262-cutting-for-stone">Cutting for Stone</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/93353.Abraham_Verghese">Abraham Verghese</a><br/><br />My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/180645087">4 of 5 stars</a><br /><br /><br />I liked this book quite a lot. Ultimately, I think that Marion was a stunted character and severely flawed. He is never able to overcome the desire and attachment to his first love and develop a successful relationship. In that he is like his father. <br /><br/><br /><br/>It would have been nice to have seen that the nurture part of the nature v. nurture argument have played more of a part in this story as their mother and father had such a great love story and displayed such a strong marriage. Even the parental bonds were wonderful. <br /><br/><br /><br/>I liked everything about this book, the history, the characters, the plot, the setting. It all seemed to work. I just found some fault with Marion and his development. <br /><br/><br /><br/>On the whole, I highly recommend this as a great fiction read,not quite historical fiction, but general fiction.<br /><br/><br/><br /><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/122943.In_the_Country_of_the_Young" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="In the Country of the Young" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1171845330m/122943.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/122943.In_the_Country_of_the_Young">In the Country of the Young</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13353.Lisa_Carey">Lisa Carey</a><br/><br />My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/180639735">2 of 5 stars</a><br /><br /><br />OK. This review is one big spoiler. So stop reading if you want to read this book.<br /><br/><br /><br/>It is billed as a ghost story. Hmmm. I guess. It does have a ghost in it. Technically. But she turns into a real little girl. Then she starts to grow quickly into an adult. All within a year. All of this takes place on the island in the cabin of an artist/recluse who hasn't had a successful relationship in his entire life and is in fact pining for his dead twin sister to return to him.<br /><br/><br /><br/>He thought perhaps the ghost was her.<br /><br/><br /><br/>Talk about inappropriate. Well, that is just the beginning, for this book is just awash in the inappropriate boners that the artist has for his sister, his mother, this young (10 years old to start!) girl. Honestly, it is rather disgusting. <br /><br/><br /><br/>I was intrigued at how the author was able to write it in such a lovely matter that you never actually said the words, pedophile, but it was there, in the back of your mind. Hovering. Ready to leap out. The writing is really beautiful and is the only thing that kept me going. However, I found the subject matter distasteful and the main character a hot mess.<br /><br/><br /><br/>I finished the book and it did come with the requesite bedding of the ghost for her to "experience" the fullness of life. Ultimately you are to believe that this causes the artist to change and make a real relationship with one of his one night stands, but it is so un believable. He is to damaged.<br /><br/><br /><br/>I say avoid this book and avoid leaving your door open with a candle lit on all hallow's eve. You just never know.<br /><br/><br/><br /><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1645791-cd">View all my reviews</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-62583851824046073872011-05-26T18:57:00.000-07:002011-05-26T19:00:00.343-07:00Librarian infographicWell, they did get my glasses right. ;-)<br /><br /><div align="center"><b>++ Click to Enlarge Image ++</b><br /><a href="http://master-degree-online.com/infographic-anatomy-of-a-librarian/"><img src="http://c204272.r72.cf1.rackcdn.com/files/2011/05/AnatomyofaLibrarianSm.jpg" width="400" alt="Anatomy of a Librarian | Infographic |" border="0" /></a><br />Source: <a href="http://master-degree-online.com/">Master Degree Guide</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-55535060448020858992011-04-15T08:59:00.000-07:002011-04-18T03:13:49.556-07:00Cynthia's Project ContinuedUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-65204517079216475832011-04-15T08:51:00.000-07:002011-04-15T08:59:46.458-07:00New ProjectOut of the 200 sacred heart schools I am the only one who is doing this. Need 100% commitment. starts in Sept. with a workshop in citation. The need 6 sources. We subscribe to Questia. We did history first. All the students choose their own topics. Choose a topic that you will learn something new. I told them that their lead teachers may run out of ideas so come to the librarian for more ideas.<br /><br />I always emphasize that I am here for help. They are supposed to connect their topic within a discipline. History: sacred sounds. You have to have 100% commitment and support of the administration. It is an extra job for the teachers and librarians.<br /><br />It is a requirement. It is a 1/2 day workshop. It has been going for 12 years. I'm the resource advisor now. I emphasize the use of primary sources. I wanted them to learn the difference between primary and secondary. It is due in April and they invite their parents to the presentation. <br /><br />The sacred heart schools act as a consortium and share resources. They all have one IP range. They are buying less nonfiction and more fiction. Questia is serving most of their needs. Her kids like the print better.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8292987969900249699.post-71377940554164911702011-04-15T08:50:00.000-07:002011-04-15T08:51:10.823-07:00Darwin ProjectWhat would Darwin think of genetic engineering..... was one of the questions. Very interesting.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0