There is an Iraq body count memorial set up at the college this week. If you live here, you probably noticed, considering it spans more than five blocks.
Each white flag symbolizes at least five Iraqis that have been killed since 2003; the red ones, five Americans.
If you haven't walked around them yet, you should take some time to do it. The exhibit heads down to Sacramento on May 3.
There are times when the hardest part of posting shoots on this blog is narrowing down which images to choose. Now, before you start thinking that this is just me boasting of my awesome talent, keep in mind that these two people are just gorgeous. I really don't think there was a single bad angle for either of them, so I don't plan on taking credit for any of the stuff to follow.
I've been waiting for the right couple to come along to shoot at the Main Street Laundromat for quite some time now. I knew that Candolin and Matthew would fit the bill perfectly. You have to admit that there is something romantic about sitting in the laundromat together.
After creating enough of a ruckus there, we headed out in search of interesting textures and nice doorways in downtown Ashland.
One of the benefits of living so close to downtown is knowing all the best alleys and storefronts.
I LOVE this one.
Some decisions were just too hard for me to make, like phone booth with sun flare or phone booth with no sun flare. I went for the weak decision, which is basically not making a choice at all.
I give you sunflare:
And no sunflare:
As much as I'm sure you want to hate these two for being so beautiful, I should share with you how intensely cool they are. Candolin has a wealth of knowledge on Native American history under her belt, not to mention a keen interest in Deadwood, both place and show. (It is so refreshing to be able to share my Al Swearengen obsession with someone.) Matthew has been slaving away on creating the awsomest of awesome graphic novels for the last year. He also just happens to be perhaps the nicest guy I've ever met. So let the record show that smart/nice guys do not finish last.
I think that bikes and high heels are always a killer combination, don't you?
After much searching, we finally found some real graffiti.
Because as some of you know, most graffiti in Ashland looks like this:
After a bit of rescheduling due to a certain politician's surprise visit, the Kids in the Kitchen project wrapped up last week.
For the finale, the kids helped prepare a large dinner for their friends at Kids Unlimited.
Lots of delicious organic veggies awaiting their fate:
The Lion's Head Meatballs were my particular fave.
This girl was quite the spunky one.
When the kids lined up to be fed, there were lots of over-the-top groans and whines of "Ewwww, I"m not eating that!" and "No way! That stuff looks disgusting!" I had a panic moment, thinking that these kids had worked so hard to prepare a meal that wasn't going to get touched, but they did a great job of convincing everyone to just try a bite. And what do you know? Most came back for seconds.
So hi! You're reading my blog when you should be doing something else, huh? Fair enough, because I'm writing a pointless entry when I should be working. Let's chat about trivial nonsense then. I was a pretty typical kid in the 80s. I liked purple glitter batons, Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam, and Garfield. And just like everyone else, when the 80s dust had settled, I became aware of the fact that it was all just awful. All of it, the whole decade - just terrible.
Realizing that Garfield was an incredibly trite and downright boring cartoon really made me sad. I mean, I loved Garfield. Really felt like I knew him, you know? He loved lasagna, hated Nermal, and had trouble with Mondays. It was a difficult relationship to end, but I knew it had to be done.
But lo and behold, my daily Garfield enjoyment has been resurrected! Some genius realized that if you put random Garfield panels together something truly magical happens. For the last few weeks, I try to start my day with a strong cup of coffee and a bit of absurd Garfield. I highly recommend it.
I inherited an organization/productivity obsession from my mother. Now, I'm not saying that I am an insanely disciplined person that is more efficient than a German soldier, I'm merely obsessed with the "idea" of organization. i.e. I LOVE reading books, watching shows, and finding systems that relate to being efficient. On some weird level, it is a form of entertainment for me. That said, I'm always on the lookout for good Mac downloads that pertain to this obsession. I've recently been playing around with Things and I really like it for its simplicity and straightforwardness. If you're in the market for a good all-around project organizer, check it out.
There is some sort of something that seems to be missing with it though. That something is difficult for me to put my finger on, which probably really just means that I needed a new fix.
Enter the new version of iGTD. It feels a bit like Christmas. So, you may be asking yourself, "Does all this switching to new productivity tools get in the way of her actually being productive?" And the answer to that question is quite simply, yes.
Now that the dust has settled I can finally share the news that the husband got through to the final round of auditions with Jeopardy! We were told to keep the location and dates hush-hush and I found it very difficult not to spread the exitement with everyone. (I've never claimed to be anything if not easily amused and exited)
I personally was most looking forward to the solo photo/shopping expedition that I had been planning to occupy myself with whilst Brian was being drilled on his hobbies and knowledge of Eastern European theatre origins. I unfortunately had forgotten about two rather important factors about Portland.
1.) It rains. A LOT.
2.) You can't get into Saks at 8:45 AM on a Sunday.
Not wanting to give up so easily, I was determined to figure out how to hold my rather large and surprisingly heavy umbrella while getting some shots of downtown. Twenty minutes and five slightly lopsided pictures later, I decided that Peet's was a better fit for my morning.
When Brian was finally done and it was time to celebrate, we did so with a bang. Well, sort of. We wandered around in the freezing rain trying to find a place with good beers and club sandwiches. Shockingly, club sandwiches are always hard to find when you are actually looking for them. When we finally did track a place down, we were delighted to find that there was only one other table that was occupied. When it is your first meal out, away from a toddler, nothing is more delightful than hot food, a good dose of solitude, and maybe a little bit of Arcade Fire playing in the background. Oliver's had all three.
Midway through the meal we realized that the other table that was occupied was by none other than a reporter and the singular Sister Paula. AHHH! It was my moment to make up for a rain-soaked photo expedition with a portrait to be proud of forever. I waited for the right moment to approach her; I'm never shy about such things but something was holding me back. The two cosmos that I had under my belt to be exact. I have a very low tolerance for alcohol but I wanted to take full advantage of the celebratory mood, childless existence, and walking destination. So what better way than to pretend like it was 2001 again than with one too many Cosmopolitans?
So I did not approach Sister Paula for an impromptu portrait. It wasn't until a few hours later that it struck me how utterly hilarious it was that I was too afraid to ask an aged tranny for a picture for fear of her possible disapproval of alcohol on my breath. Most definitely the first and last time that will ever happen.
Here is the next best thing to a portrait: Sister Paula and a dove.
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