California Dreamin’ Once Again

PotD

California Dreamin’ Once Again

January 6, 2016

charles i. letbetter - california dreamin

There is science, logic, reason; there is thought verified by experience. And then there is California.—Edward Abbey

I have been away from California too long and need to go back. How do I know this? We have a wind chill of 16 degrees this morning and I’m not in the mood to put on pants. There’s only one reasonable solution to that problem: California. Southern California, to be exact. I have a fondness for the Santa Monica area, which is where today’s picture was taken.

California is a wonderful example of how we adapt to our environment. Notice the gentleman seated on the bench here. He’s wearing a sweatshirt. A few minutes later, a woman passed wearing a heavy coat, walking her tiny little mop of a dog that was wearing a sweater. It was 72 degrees that morning. Everyone was looking oddly at me because I was in my short shirt sleeves and enjoying what was, for me, considerable warmth. By the time my trip there had ended, though, my own body had begun to adapt. I was wearing long sleeves and not bothering to roll them up as I had when I arrived. If I had stayed another week, I might have been reaching for a jacket as well.

The human body is amazing in how it adapts to whatever climate surrounds it. When I went out to fetch the little ones off the school bus yesterday afternoon, the temperature had risen just to the freezing mark with a windchill of 25. After the cold of the morning, the afternoon warm up didn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable as it might have had we arrived at that temperature coming down from, say, a more moderate 45.

Our response to temperature is relative which is what allows us to tolerate living in places such as Indiana or Michigan or Minnesota. Once we become accustomed to the idea that the temperature at which water freezes really isn’t all that cold, we are better able to tolerate the seemingly endless winters we encounter. There are people across the Midwest who actually miss snow when we don’t have it. There are times when I’m one of those people.

California gets snow, too. The uniqueness of the variations in altitude there allow one to go from the desert warmth of Palm Springs, which is a lovely little city this time of year, to a mountain ski resort within less than a two-hour drive. One might think that such quick transitions from warm to cold might make one ill, but that hardly seems to be the case. Our bodies are amazingly flexible when called upon to do so.

Yet, no amount of adaptation allows me to actually enjoy mornings like this. Perhaps the fact that it is morning has something to do with the problem. I have less of an issue with the cold around noon. By evening, I hardly notice the frigidity.

Then, there’s that whole time change thing. Time is, of course, an artificial measure of human construct, but it still affects when we do things like sleeping and such. There is a three-hour difference between Indiana and California. I’m accustomed, and my body is well adapted, to getting up around 4:00 AM each morning and having coffee. Do the math. That means when I’m visiting California, I’m looking for a coffee shop that is open at 1:00 AM. I’m sure there’s one somewhere in the greater Los Angeles area, but none within walking distance of my breach-front hotel. When I ask the front desk clerk, he looks at me as though I’m crazy. I have to wait until 6:00 Pacific Time before the nearest coffee shop is open.

Okay, so there is a down side to being in California. Adapting to the time change is not as easy as adapting to the weather. Then, just about the time one has made the transition, it’s time to come home, which throws the body off its schedule once again. Maybe, just maybe, our bodies aren’t as good at this whole traveling thing as we might like to think. Sure, we’re adaptive, but the constant switching back and forth between time zones and climates becomes wearisome. There is a reason our primitive ancestors staked out one place and called it home.

Still, when I put on my coat and scarf in a few minutes (and pants), it will be California of which I’m thinking. I really need to visit out there again, soon.

PotD

How We Face The Cold

January 5, 2016

You can’t worry if it’s cold; you can’t worry if it’s hot; you only worry if you get sick. Because then if you don’t get well, you die.—Joaquin Andujar

I am not a fan of the cold. In addition to the fact that cameras don’t tend to work quite as well at temperatures below 50 degrees, I find colder environments not conducive to thinking clearly; I miss details when my teeth are chattering. Yet, I know plenty of people who are totally comfortable in cold weather and rather delight in getting all bundled up and braving the elements. I don’t understand those people.

We live in a World War II-era house that could use a touch of repairs; the kind we can’t really afford to make. New windows and doors would do a lot to seal up the drafts that keep our feet cold no matter what the thermostat reads. There’s an especially significant breeze coming through one of the windows in our bedroom and, being the gallant, chivalrous person I am, I take that side of the bed. I don’t mind the air being a bit cooler at night because it leads to cuddling under blankets. But that cold leak coming through the front window and under my desks keeps my feet cold all day and makes matters uncomfortable as I’m sitting here at the desk.

Energy conservationists tell us that our winter thermostats should be set on 68. I’m sorry, but as much as I’d like to participate in that little exercise, I can’t. Anything below 70 degrees during the winter and my brain loses efficiency. When I woke up this morning, the pilot light in the heater had gone out; it was 69 degrees in the house andI couldn’t concentrate enough to write the first word until that issue was resolved. Perhaps I should feel ashamed, but for the moment, I’m enjoying the warm air coming through the vents.

Being the spoiled person I am, I can sit here looking at the weather app on my smarter-than-me phone and know that it’s 19 degrees outside, with a windchill of ten. In a few minutes, we will have to bundle ourselves well and take the children outside to wait on the school bus. I am not a fan of the early hour at which school starts in the first place, but this having to wait in sub-freezing temperatures strikes me as cruel and unusual punishment. Mind you, the kids stay warm just inside the back door. I’m the one who has to go outside and watch for the bus.

I would not have made a good pioneer. In fact, I can’t imagine my being very happy any time prior to the twentieth century and the advent of central heat. Yes, my head knows that comfort is largely a matter of acclamation. I remember in college being amazed at students from Alaska running around in shorts while the rest of us were shivering in our heavy coats. Because they were accustomed to the frigidness of being near the Arctic Circle, they found Oklahoma’s 40-something temps to be rather balmy by comparison. I feel the same way when I visit California in January. Our discomfort is largely mental, to a point.

A wind chill of ten degrees is no laughing matter, though. Wind chill is the measure of how much heat our body loses when exposed to the wind. Our body naturally protects us from the cold by radiating a certain amount of heat. Wind takes that heat away, leaving us with nothing but cold. Anytime the wind chill is below -20 degrees we are entering dangerous territory. Frostbite can occur within a minute of exposure under these conditions. I don’t know about you, but I would rather not have my nose frostbitten. NOAA has a helpful chart in case your phone doesn’t keep you informed.

Whenever I feel this level of discomfort, though, I think of those whose life circumstances have left them out in the elements for any reason. I know there are some wonderful, gracious people who make every reasonable effort to get the homeless inside, somewhere, at least for the night. Multiple organizations distribute coats, gloves, hats, and scarves. We are always happy to help out these efforts and are thankful to not need their assistance ourselves.

Still, if I sit down at the desk and feel cool air running up my calves, I’m going to shiver and thank the universe for hot coffee. Winter stayed away much of the month of December, but it’s here now, full force, and looking to cause trouble. We’re ready to face the cold, just don’t as me to be excited about it.

PotD

Back To Work We Go

January 4, 2016

I put my heart and my soul into my work and have lost my mind in the process.—Vincent Van Gogh

Work. Ugh. Welcome to the first Monday of 2016, the day we bid a fond farewell to some of our readers who joined us over the break but must now leave us in favor of gainful employment that frowns upon them spending time with pleasures such as this. It’s a whopping 27 degrees in Indianapolis as I write this and scattered snow showers across the city are threatening to make a mess of everyone’s first commute of the year. We’re getting off to such a great start, aren’t we?

Coffee. Thankfully, we’ve acquired a fair amount of that deliciously roasted bean over the past month. I’m not sure exactly how that happened, but I’m not complaining and it’s coming in especially handy this morning. Kat and I both crashed early last night, but the down side of that is we were up earlier than usual. Work without coffee would be inhumane, in my opinion. I’m fortunate to have never been in a situation where I couldn’t have a cup nearby. I know not everyone can, though, and for those people I truly feel sorry.

I also feel sorry for school teachers who are returning to the classroom this morning. I remember the trepidation Mother always felt when returning after the holiday break. Teachers don’t really get time off. When they’re not at school, they’re doing other adult things such as entertaining family which requires cleaning house and catching up on the piles of laundry that have been ignored all semester. The holidays were never that much of a mental break and today teachers get to welcome back all those darling little demons who have been running around wild the past two weeks. Teachers should get hazardous duty pay the first three days of this week. Be sure they’ll earn it.

Getting back to work after such a long period is never easy. Even if one was technically at work through the whole month of December, the atmosphere following Thanksgiving is different than the other eleven months. Despite the stress of working to complete year-end goals, there is still a sense of frivolity and an absence of the serious tones that dominate the rest of the year. At least, for most people that is the case. For those whose companies completely shuttered on December 31, you have our sympathies.

Here, too, we’re getting back to our normal schedule with some new additions. In case you’ve not already noticed, we’re doing more than just a single post each day. We’re keeping a very close eye on events in fashion, advertising, and music. We’ve only done one extra article per day over the weekend, and for weekends and holidays that will be the new norm. During the week, though, we’ll add articles as we feel appropriate. Fashion is barreling toward February’s Ready-To-Wear runway season, advertising’s eyes are on the Super Bowl ads, and there’s a long list of artists ready to release new albums in the first quarter. We’re watching it all and will comment where we feel we have something valuable to add to the conversation.

So, back to work we go. Bundle up, buckle in, and enjoy the ride!

PotD

Sunday Of Sanctity

January 3, 2016

My mother always kept library books in the house, and one rainy Sunday afternoon – this was before television, and we didn’t even have a radio – I picked up a book to look at the pictures and discovered I was reading and enjoying what I read.—Beverly Cleary

Growing up in the home of a Southern Baptist minister meant Sundays were anything but calm or quiet. There was a fairly precise schedule to the day: Up at 7, showers, dressed, breakfast, family devotions, all before 8:30 in the morning. There would be Sunday School, then church, then around 6 or so in the evening, depending on the time of year, Training Union, which became Church Training in the 70s, then evening services, then often a rather pointless choir rehearsal and sometimes a youth activity. The day was full.

What little “down time” there was on a Sunday came in that brief period after lunch (which Mother typically had prepared for dining as soon after the service as possible) and the snack that passed as dinner before heading out to church again. This time was for napping. Always. No excuses. Interruptions were frowned upon. Typically, Poppa would sit in his recliner, leaf through the local paper a bit, maybe turn on a football game that he wouldn’t watch, the fall sound asleep. Mother would go to their room and sleep while Squirt and I were given the instruction to, at the very least, stay quiet.

Such a respite only came on Sundays and was almost as sacred as the services on either end of the day. Poppa loathed allowing anyone to schedule anything on Sunday afternoon and on the rare occasion he was forced to do so one could be certain that his mood would not be as pleasant and accommodating as normal. Poppa’s take was that if God rested on Sunday, certainly he meant for us to take a couple of hours to do the same.

As I grew older and moved away from home, my Sunday habits changed. My view of church changed rather dramatically and Sunday became a day that was given to the very respite Poppa tried to squeeze into a couple of hours. I’d start with the Sunday edition of the New York Times, coming up for air and a coffee refill between articles. Brunch back then was less of a social gathering and more of a way to quiet the growing rumble in the stomach without actually admitting that half the day was already gone. I acquired my father’s habit of sitting in a recliner, turning on the football game, and promptly falling asleep. Sunday evenings were for a quiet dinner, maybe some cuddling, reading, or, more likely, laundry so we’d have something clean to wear the next morning.

Now, Sundays are more complicated, less quiet, and too often frustrating. There are too many people who can only shoot on Sundays. The local paper rarely holds any information I’ve not already seen online and even the long-form enticement of the Times isn’t as enjoyable as it once was. I do still hold to brunch because, damn it, I’m not cooking anything before 10:00 if it can be avoided. Laundry is still a must, and so is reading, but increasingly that reading is done through some form of digital media, whether the Kindle or this large-screened smartphone I carry.

The sanctity of Sunday is largely gone now. Kat is frequently at the salon, which means I’m stuck with the kids (or they’re stuck with me). Having time to read quietly means getting up about the same time the party people are getting home. I can make the kids wait for brunch, but they want lunch an hour later and a large snack an hour after that. Sunday afternoon nap? My body aches for one, especially after getting up so early, but the kids would likely burn down the house if I dozed for even a minute. Peace comes only after they’re in bed for the night and by that time I’m rather ready for bed myself.

I understand now, more than ever, the value of a quiet, thoughtful, Sunday. I’m hoping that as the children get older we can hand them a good book and not see them for a couple of hours, knowing they are being sufficiently entertained and, perhaps, even learning something. I can dream. I can hope. I have a library card and I’m not afraid to use it.

We need to allow ourselves downtime; just one day when we don’t intrude on others, nor they on us. May we have one day, please, that is a little more void of noise and a little more contemplative. We need time to re-asses our world, our place in it, and then get our shit together before tackling another week. Not allowing for some sanctity on Sunday is a fast trip to spending one’s vacation either in rehab or the mental health center, and there’s already a shortage of space at both.

Take some time. Breathe. Read. I’ll try to do the same, right after I fix brunch for these heathens.

PotD / Social Commentary

Surviving In 2016

January 2, 2016

We don’t develop courage by being happy every day. We develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.—Barbara de Angelis

Model: Sarah Thomas

Welcome to the real 2016. January 1 doesn’t count; it’s that in-between days when people my age and older worry about writing the wrong year on checks while our children and grandchildren stand by our sides asking, “What’s a check?” January 1 is for parades and football and corned beef if you’re in the Midwest, hog jowl or fat back if you’re in the South. January 1 isn’t a real day.

Today, however, is quite real. Bills are due, including rent in many cases. You may have to go to work. Even if you have today off, since it’s Saturday, there are still things to do such as taking down the damn Christmas tree and tossing a tangled jumble of lights into the closet. Today, the holidays are officially over and the world is obligated to get back to the hectic rat race it left back in November. What will we do, however shall we survive? Fortunately, I have some solutions.

Stay warm.

I am amazed that, every year, people are severely crippled or die due to exposure. I’m not necessarily talking about homeless people, either, though that’s definitely a problem. People who know better and have sufficient means to protect themselves seem to hit January and think that Spring must be right around the corner. Wrong. Especially this year. We’ve got at least three months of cold starting us out here and the rest of the year is really going to suck if you lose extremities because you didn’t take care of yourself. Gloves. Hats. Heavy coats. They’re not just for the holidays, folks. Wear them. Surviving the year starts with staying alive.

Avoid politics (and politicians) whenever possible.

This is a presidential election year and all indications point toward this being one of the most ridiculously stupid campaigns ever. This year’s politicians are totally incapable of telling the truth about anything. Some of them can’t even get their own names correct, “Ted.” The only means of survival is to shut them down, turn them off, and vote for the one least likely to behave like a complete asshole when they reach office. Even worse, though, are people who ardently, feverishly, support a candidate. They will fill your Facebook timeline with some of the most ridiculous article links ever conceived. Unfollow them. Block them if they start getting too pushy. Pay no attention to the slime oozing behind the curtain. Turn them off. Surviving doesn’t mean surrendering your dignity.

Fight terror and violence by loving everyone.

After rampant wandering politicians, the biggest threat the United States faces this year is domestic violence and terrorism. The are some very stupid people out there who mistakenly believe that hate is justified by their religion and violence of some form is an acceptable answer. Nothing could possibly be more wrong. In response to these very misguided individuals, we can have only one response: love everyone. We really shouldn’t be threatened with violence or terrorism to do this, but if we want to shut down our biggest threats to national and personal security, loving each other is our only choice. That means loving each other regardless of religious affiliation, or race, or sexual orientation, or marital status, or whether they watch Fox News. The Beatles gave us the answer long ago: All you need is love.

Pay cash, save as much as possible.

We’ve been monitoring comments by different economists all year and, while they rarely agree on anything, it seems rather certain that we’re heading toward yet another global recession. Blame China. No, it’s not all their fault, but they make a much-too-obvious scapegoat. This is not the year to be running up a lot of unnecessary debt, especially not high-interest credit card debt, which is never a good idea in the first place. This year, when Samuel L. Jackson asks, “What’s in your wallet?” the answer needs to be, “Cash.” With a recession looming, I wouldn’t even trust banks enough to use a debit card. Sure, it’s not a convenient approach by any means, but it could save your ass when the next recession hits. Surviving means save as much as you can, keep as much as you can out of the hands of big banks.

Take more pictures: hire a professional.

For all the talk about Instagram and other online photo sharing applications, the number of good photographs, the ones worth handing down and saving for future generations, are declining. Why? Because you’re not paying for them. You’re taking lousy selfies instead of hiring a professional and what you’re getting in return is just digital trash. 98% of the photographs taken with cell phones are not worth preserving. Sure, our services are not inexpensive, but the value of a professional photograph grows with time, unlike the garbage on your phone that can disappear in an instant if someone spills a glass of water. Having professional, printed photographs are the best way to preserve your memories.

I can’t promise anyone a good year. There are a lot of obstacles that, quite honestly, have me a bit frightened. We cannot see the future, but we can prepare for the most obvious possibilities. Be safe out there, kids. Love each other. Spend wisely. Book your photo session now. Surviving 2016 doesn’t need to be difficult; let’s do this together!

Photography / PotD

Time To Say Goodbye

December 1, 2015

Unless one says goodbye to what one loves, and unless one travels to completely new territories, one can expect merely a long wearing away of oneself and an eventual extinction.—Jean Dubuffet

Today is my birthday. Unless something dramatically changes, which might not be a good thing, I’ll likely spend the bulk of the day alone. Weather will likely dictate whether I even try walking anywhere. Kat and the kids are at school. The kids will be home by mid-afternoon, fussy, tired, hungry, and destined for an early bedtime. Kat won’t be home until late, though, and I may already be in bed. In many ways, the day is inherently understated and that is not terribly inappropriate.

This feels like a good place to stop. We built this current site in a rush after the previous server totally crashed back in March. Changing hosts forced us into some design decisions we didn’t really have a chance to adequately test and now that we’ve been doing this for several months, we need to make some serious adjustments. There’s no way to do that with the site fully live.

Should you visit over the next month, and we certainly encourage you to do so, you may see things in the middle of transition; not all the links may work all the time and there may even be points where it’s all a giant jumble. When you’re likely to see the biggest change is after Christmas, when we start preparing to take the sight completely live.

You can probably say goodbye to the #POTD as we now know it. #POTD has been fun for the most part, but maddening at times. When we started, I thought I’d just pull pictures from the archives, no big deal. What we quickly discovered is that some of our oldest pictures needed some help to be appropriate for the newer high-resolution monitors everyone is using now. Fixing those images morphed into using special effects and completely re-processing the majority, which was a lot of extra work. IF we continue the #POTD, it will have to be in a different vein that is considerably less effort.

At the same time, I want to leave room to expand our creativity. I’m not sure what all that may entail or how it might be presented, but there almost certainly will be new things on the site next year that we’ve not seen before.

So, with this post, we say goodbye for the remainder of 2015. Thank you for joining us on this adventure. To show our appreciation, here’s a quick review of some of our favorite images from the past few months.

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pop culture / PotD

Surviving THE END Times

November 30, 2015

Nearly half of the American population is eagerly anticipating the end of the world. This dewy-eyed nihilism provides absolutely no incentive to build a sustainable civilization. —Sam Harris

Ooh, it’s #CyberMonday! This is your opportunity to buy stuff at cheap prices without getting trampled by fat ladies stealing rice cookers from three-year-olds! Oh, this might also be a good time to stock up on things for THE END times. Apparently, according to a fair number of people, that’s sufficient reason to panic. I’m not sure I exactly understand why. We’re just taking a month off. We’ll be back in January. Still, you might as well be prepared.

Having Kat as today’s #POTD is appropriate, I think, for a number of reasons. First, she has been a great help with getting through these posts all year. In fact, she even wrote a few of them. Second, this shot is THE END of a shoot we did back in August. Burberry had just leaped from Kat’s hands, having tired of being used as a prop. Third, she’s so freakin’ cute! If there’s one image to carry with you through THE END then this should be it.

But hey, for millions of people who are kicking themselves for not thinking of shooting up a Planned Parenthood first, this whole apocalypse thing is serious business. So, here’s our final list:

How To Survive THE END Times!

Stock up on all the advice we’ve given.
We’ve given a lot of advice over the past several months. Now would be a very good time to go back and begin taking notes. I’m not going to live forever, you know. Well, at least not on this planet. We’ll be posting links to some of our favorite articles on my Facebook page. I’m not saying there will be a test, but you never know when that advice might come in handy.

Bookmark your favorite posts in case of an emergency.
The Internet can be very difficult to index and our site doesn’t come with a table of contents. Fortunately, however, every post has its own unique address so that they can be bookmarked, added to your browser’s list of favorites, with the links stored on your own computer or mobile device. You never have to leave home without me! Isn’t that wonderful? Yes, I thought so, too.

Make sure you like us on Facebook and/or follow us on Twitter
We’re not going to leave you through these END TIMES without resources or ways of communication. We’ll still be somewhat active on social media throughout the month. Those of you into blasphemy can think of it as our holy spirit, or digital ghost, or what have you. We’ll post something at least once a day. Speaking in tongues not required.

Make the Almighty Google your best friend
Come to the Google. Only the Google can save you through eternity for Google is the permanent retainer of all knowledge. Once Google has indexed something, it never really goes away no matter what happens. Websites that haven’t been online for years are still indexed by Google and their images are still viewable in a Google search. All you have to do is enter my name and low, I am with you always, even unto the end of the Internets.

Order my books.
I don’t mention this too terribly often, but you know, I do have a set of books that I actually wrote myself. I didn’t risk “inspiring” someone else to do the writing. I actually created the entire contents myself. You can find them all right here and if you order today, use the code CREATIVE40, you might even get a discount. You can carry me with you anywhere, even without electricity.

Prepare for the possibility of an Internet outage.
I know, it sounds very scary, doesn’t it? Who would survive in a world without the Internet? We might actually have to go back to using libraries and reading books (see above). For those of you who only come here for the pictures, though, there’s another solution: order a print. We don’t have many available, because it’s just too difficult to keep up with a bunch of stuff, but you can get yours now if you act quickly, before the Russians cut the undersea Internet cables or something.

Contribute to my Holiday Sustenance.
This is not an easy task we undertake. There are thousands of options to consider, tens of thousands of images to re-consider. The hours will be long. Time shall be consumed. Our ability to sustain ourselves shall be challenged. If you’re really all that worried, though, we do accept gifts of chocolate, coffee, and most importantly, Scotch. We hold a very special place for those who bring us Scotch. Contact us for details.

Book a shoot for January.
I know you’ll miss me, and for some of you our absence is quite frightening. What if we never return? We will, and you can secure a place right here, in our studio, in front of our camera, simply by booking your shoot for January. Don’t worry about the cold or the inclement weather. We don’t make everyone stand in the snow. We have options. Book your shoot now and know that you have favor with the photographer.

Pray for the Second Coming.
Lo (because it’s too early to be high), I go to prepare a better place, for you. And if I go to prepare a better place, for you, I will surely come again and receive you unto my digital self so that you can feel as though you are here with me (even though you won’t be, really, because we just don’t have the room). Our target date is January 1, but things do sometimes happen. Pray nothing happens. Pray hard.

If all else fails, buy a camera.
We try to be cautious and stay away from danger, but there’s always that slight chance that I might be walking past a local mosque or Planned Parenthood and get taken out by some overly-religious right-wing terrorist wacko, aka Ted Nugent. Should the unthinkable happen, should the Internets completely disappear, you have my blessing to purchase your own camera, continuing in the faith and knowledge that I have taught you well. Carry on in my memory until I return.

Hey, it could happen. We’ve one more day. Be ready.

PotD

5 Signs You Are A Fashion Failure

November 28, 2015

charles i. letbetter - 5 signs you're a fashion failure

Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening.—Coco Chanel

Fashion is something that eludes 98 percent of all people. Take this wedding dress, for example, from designer Catherine Fritsch; as wonderful a concept as it is, the dress didn’t actually sell until years after this photo was initially released. The problem isn’t with the dress, but the not-quite-in-touch fashion opinions of those who turned it down. Thinking of all the brides who went with dresses as staid and boring as their now-married lives makes me sad. Fashion is about expression and personality and when one chooses less-than-interesting fashion for themselves they’re not exactly putting their best foot forward.

This photo also reminds me of just how much people change over the years. Originally taken in 2011, our model, Erin, was a bright, young college student working on her degree. She’s now married with a beautiful little girl and is head of a relatively significant government agency. Makeup artist Christopher Thompson now runs a haunted B&B in Atlanta, Indiana. Catherine Fritsch rebranded last year and her Rue Violet line generally sells quite well. Isn’t it wonderful to watch people grow?

Speaking of growing, let’s get to today’s list:

5 Signs You Are A Fashion Failure

When you see a dog wearing the same outfit as you and the dog wears it better.
Just because you saw something on last season’s runway, or your favorite celebrity, doesn’t mean it’s going to work for you. Consider how a garment is cut, whether it’s full or tailored. Full cuts are more generous and work with a wider variety of body types. Tailored looks, though, especially those designed to be tight around the hips and waist, make the wearer look like a sausage bursting from its casing if their curves don’t match the designer’s ideal. It’s better to have a wardrobe that actually looks good on you rather than trying to adopt someone else’s style.

When there’s no Pantone® number to match anything you’re wearing.
A couple of caveats at the beginning of this one: if you’re legitimately color blind you get a pass as well as if you’re young enough your mother still dresses you. For those who don’t know, Pantone® is the color-matching system used by printers to make sure they’re printing the correct color. Pantone has identified hundreds of thousands of shades of everything and indexed them numerically; they pretty much have ever visible color covered. Yet, every once in a while I’ll come across someone who has put a color combination on their body that even the Pantone book doesn’t cover it. No, dear, it doesn’t look good no matter what your friends say; they’re laughing behind your back. There are color wheels and charts all over the Internet. Use one.

When people follow you because they’re sure you must be on your way to a circus.
I’ve seen designers send some pretty bizarre looks down the runway, but nothing beats the collision of styles that occurs when some people start mixing separates. Not everyone has a talent for matching styles and fabrics well. As a result, we see things like polka dots and ruffles mixed with denim and lace and two or three different animal prints along with stripes running in three different directions and eight contrasting colors all in the same look. No. Stop. Barnum & Bailey is not a personal style. Seek help.

When you’re wearing fishnet and the park ranger gives you a ticket for carrying over the limit.
The only thing that really looks good in fishnet every time is fish. Sure, we see a lot of it on the runways, but the best applications are as accents or carefully matched accessories, and even those don’t always work in the real world where we have to figure out how to dress ourselves. Remember, fishnet exposes what lies beneath it. Do you really need what is under your fishnet exposed? Also, just because fishnet is flexible doesn’t mean its tensile strength should be tested. Fishnet is ultimately a tailored element; don’t push it.

When the tags in all your clothes say “Made In Bangladesh.”
Check the labels in your clothes before you buy anything. If the label says made in Bangladesh, Taiwan, Singapore, or Vietnam, know that your garment is assembled by the poorest of the poor, typically in conditions worse than those in which we house our farm animals. Among those, Bangladesh is likely the worst. If you’re buying clothes from H&M, Wal-Mart, Target, Old Navy, Penney’s, K-Mart, or any other discounter, chances are you’re contributing to the economic enslavement of thousands. Read here, here, here, and here for more details, then change your buying habits.

One of the many things I dislike about American buying habits this time of year is the over-emphasis on sales and who has the lowest prices. Fashion isn’t cheap. Quality clothes aren’t often found on the racks of discounters. Where and how you spend your money makes a difference in the lives of thousands of people. In the shopping realm of the holiday season, today is Small Business Saturday. We strongly encourage you to take advantage and look for garments made by local designers. Sure, you’re not going to find any $5 price tags, but your money is more likely to help someone rather than contribute to their enslavement.

Use some common sense, people. Shop smart. Happy holidays.

PotD

8 Solutions To Lousy Sex

November 27, 2015

I haven’t trusted polls since I read that 62% of women had affairs during their lunch hour. I’ve never met a woman in my life who would give up lunch for sex.—Erma Bombeck

Move over, Cosmo, you’re not the only website who can use cheap and tawdry sex headlines to get people’s attention. The difference between our list and those you’ll find elsewhere, though, is that we’ve undertaken years of personal research so we could offer solutions by telling you, with expert authority, what not to do. My only caveat here is that if you are related to me, especially if you’re one of my sons, STOP READING NOW! There are some things family doesn’t need to know.

As for today’s picture, this one is a little over ten years old and remains one of my favorites from when I first moved to Indianapolis. Lovely, open people like this just don’t come along too terribly often and once she moved on there wasn’t anyone to fill the void she left. C’est la vie.

Meanwhile, we have a silly list to which we must attend, which, if nothing else, is better than standing in some stupid line out in the freezing cold:

8 Solutions To Lousy Sex

Stop getting out of bed so damn early to go shopping.
Seriously, where are your priorities? You could actually be in bed, snuggled up with the one you love, ticking that special spot they love, leading up to the best sex ever. But no, instead you are totally wasting your time out in the cold standing in some stupid line and even if your lover is right there with you, this is not sexy and not romantic in any way, shape or form. Geeze. Loser.

Cut back on the food you know gives you gas.
Flatulence is a natural bodily function and to some extent we can’t keep it from happening. However, when you load up with buffalo wings, cheese sauce and cheap beer, what do you think is going to happen? All that garbage you just ate is like shaking up a soda bottle; the gas is going to explode! Why would anyone want to get close when they know that’s going to happen? Why would you even want to do that to yourself? Gross.

For all that is holy, try taking a shower.
While the amount of grooming one does is totally a personal matter, being clean is not and is definitely a reason for lousy sex. In fact, your smell may be keeping you from having any sex at all. Worth noting: this includes those of you who apparently bath in cologne. Stop. It’s not attractive. The best fragrance with which you can greet your lover is fresh soap. Give it a try sometime.

Stop trying all the positions you see on Pornhub.
You do realize porn sex is different from real-world sex, don’t you? Those crazy positions they get in are designed to give the camera a better angle and more light, not for comfort. If you need help with positions, perhaps you should add the Kama Sutra or similar books to your holiday shopping list. Better yet, grab them online and have them shipped so you’re not seen carrying them around in a store; that can be a bit creepy.

Try A Little Tenderness.
Careful, things are rather sensitive down there! Some of the most embarrassing emergency room visits come from putting something down there that doesn’t belong, and yes, that includes hot food. If you’re that damn hungry get a plate. For both men and women, the skin in the groin area is extremely sensitive and no, it is not sexy when you put something stupid down there. This includes champagne and liquor. Don’t do it.

Pay attention to what you’re doing.
I never have understood people who try to watch television or text on their phones while having sex. If you’re that disengaged from that act, you’re not going to have a good time; you’re just going through the motions. Actually paying attention to your lover not only helps the sex, the entire relationship benefits. Explore. Find those auto-erogenous areas above the waist. See how much things improve.

Stay healthy.
No one wants to have sex with a partner who is coughing up a lung or gasping for breath after three minutes. In case you’ve not figured it out yet (and some of you haven’t), sex is an extremely physical activity. Being healthy and in shape factors significantly in your ability to have good, enjoyable sex. And yes, this includes not being overweight. Why? Strenuous physical activity puts stress on your heart. Dying during sex is not acceptable.

Try using a real, live partner every once in a while.
Please tell me I don’t need to explain the benefits of this one. Seriously, though, it’s not going to happen if you don’t get out of that chair, away from in front of the computer, and try meeting people. Clean up. Act nice. Don’t be a douchebag. This is allegedly the time of year for miracles and you’re due. You can thank me later.

We probably could have made this list a lot longer, and I certainly know some people who could use the instruction. I don’t want to overwhelm you, though. Start with these and perhaps we can add more later, when you’re ready. Who knows, you might start the new year happy.

PotD

5 Tips For A Better New Year

November 26, 2015

charles i. letbetter - 5 ways to have a better new year

Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.—Benjamin Franklin

What’s this? We’re not talking about Thanksgiving? No, we’re not. Everyone else is doing that. We’re going a different direction, heading for the new year. We’ve only five days left for the #POTD after today, remember?

The whole #POTD concept has created some challenges this year and at times it has been extremely difficult to make sure there were different pictures going up every day. That’s why we’re going to mix up the format a bit next year to give us a little more flexibility. The end result is likely to be more content, not less, but with fewer restrictions as to exactly what we’re posting on any given day. So, there’s one thing right there to look forward to in the new year.

I still am amazed every time I see this photo and am reminded that we achieved this level of tone with just the light coming through the white blinds of a window. I don’t have another set anything close in topic or tone to this one, though, so it has been difficult to find a theme into which it would fit this year. Otherwise, you would have seen it much sooner than now.

Speaking of new years, here’s a list that’s not likely to be duplicated anywhere else.

5 Ways To Make Your New Year Better

Stop believing everything you read on the Internet.
Not only are there more satire sights than ever, there are innumerable websites posing as “news” that are simply nothing but a bunch of lies. Vaccinations save lives, and do not cause autism. GMOs increase production and do not introduce chemicals into the food. Unless you have an allergy or celiac’s disease, you can probably eat gluten. Stop being so damn gullible and paranoid.

Don’t rely on the computer to help you make friends.
Social media is great for keeping up with friends and family, but it’s not the best place to meet new people and make new acquaintances. Get out. Do things. Meet people in person first and then, if they’re not douchebags, add them on social media. Doing it the other way around only increases your anti-social tendencies and isolates you further from the real world.

Do something you’ve never done before.
Most of us are so stuck in a rut we don’t even realize the depth of the rut we’re in. The new year gives you a wonderful chance to at least add a touch of variety by doing something different. Take up glass blowing. Train a cat. Chase ghosts. Train a cat to chase ghosts into blown glass. Almost everyone has something on their bucket list that can be done this next year. Go ahead and do it!

Vote the bums out.
2016, in case you’ve been living under a rock, is an election year. That gives you a wonderful opportunity to make a difference. There is absolutely no reason to re-elect anyone. This Congress has been the worst ever about failing in their responsibility to take care of the American people. State legislatures downright suck. Change that. Don’t re-elect anyone. Just do some research before you vote for stupid.

Read something longer than a damn list.
Ever ask yourself why there are so many lists on the Internet? The answer is because that’s what most people are likely to read. You don’t want to be bothered with details, just short headlines. As a result, you’re growing dumber by the minute. Details matter. Details keep you informed so you don’t support stupid, racists, closed-minded bigots. Go deeper than the headlines. Maybe even read a book or fifty.

I could go on, but statistically lists with more than five points get half as many readers as those with more than five, and those who do read longer lists typically abandon them less than half-way through.

Aren’t you glad I didn’t give you another list of things for which you should be thankful? That’s one list you really should create for yourself. If you’re getting your thankfulness list from the Internet, you need to re-examine your life. Seriously. The new year will be a lot better if you start doing more things for yourself. Consider that a bonus point.

Now, go enjoy the rest of your day.

PotD

8 Reasons To Steal The Bed Covers

November 25, 2015

The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late.—Ogden Nash

For the larger part of this year, I assumed I had completely lost this series. The hard drive on which it was originally saved had decided it didn’t want to work with the operating system on the computer. There weren’t a huge number of pictures on there, but there were some that I considered quite lovely, this one among them. Fortunately, after we upgraded systems last month, the drive was magically readable again! Not sure how that happens, but I’m not complaining.

Another thing I lose often is the covers. Someone I know tends to be a cover hog and since one tends to react instinctively when asleep I just let her have them. I am not going to risk upsetting the Marine while she sleeps; somehow, I imagine that ending rather badly for me. When winter hits, beds become the battlefield of relationships and whoever loses either freezes or sleeps on the couch. We don’t want you sleeping on the couch, so that’s why we have today’s list.

8 Reasons To Steal The Bed Covers

You have to get up first in the morning.
Whoever has to get up first deserves to go to sleep first and have the longer uninterrupted sleep, right? The person on the other side of the bed can have the covers during that extra five or ten minutes they stay in bed each morning. You, on the other hand, have to get up and get busy. You deserve to have the covers during the night.

If someone would snuggle more you wouldn’t need the covers.
Let’s face it: body heat is a wonderful thing to share during the winter. Unfortunately, a lot of people have difficulty snuggling; they keep rolling over to the other side of the bed, leaving you alone and cold. Therefore, you deserve the covers to punish them for not being more intimate during a time in your life when what you really need is an all-night hug.

Without the covers, your cold feet go onto your lover’s back.
Our extremities are what lose heat first, even in bed, and that means one’s feet are going to get cold quickly when deprived of the covers. Cold feet instinctively migrate all on their own toward the nearest heat source, which is typically the cover hog’s backside. If they don’t want to be jolted awake by your cold feet, they need to share the covers.

Covers keep you from becoming ill.
Why should you have the covers? Because you’re a delicate flower who is going to become terribly, horribly, and ferociously ill if you get too cold at night. If you’re sick, then that’s definitely going to ruin all those wonderful winter plans you had, including that visit to the in-laws over the holidays. Does your significant other really want you ill over the holidays? Of course not!

You snore louder when you’re cold.
Not that we’re actually admitting that we snore, because you’ve never heard you snore; but, you’re pretty sure that if you were going to snore it would definitely be worse when you are cold. The louder you snore, the less sleep everyone else gets, including the pets. Ask your significant other if they really want to put up with a grumpy Mr. Snickety Lemons in the morning.

You’re grumpy when you don’t get enough sleep.
You need your eight hours of sleep each night or else you’re going to be an unbearable best the next morning. You take going to bed rather seriously and follow a precise routine to make sure you get the optimum amount of rest possible. When your partner steals the covers, though, that upsets the delicate balance you’ve created and you cannot be held responsible if salt somehow winds up in the coffee the next morning.

There are other blankets in the closet, damn it.
You have a big bed and the covers just barely fit over the whole thing even when there is no one under them. So, it just seems logical that your significant other would just grab their own blanket from the closet and let that solve the problem. Well, unless they grab the 115-year-old quilet that your great-great-grandmother handstiched together with her bare hands. That one’s yours; they’d best leave it alone.

No one’s getting sex as long as you are cold.
Science has proven that it is almost impossible to become sexually arounsed when one’s external temperature is below a point of reasonable comfort. If your partner has any plans for being even the least bit fiesty, they’d better let you have those covers. Otherwise, they can just keep those grabby little paws to themselves.

See, you’re totally justified in demanding the covers every night. Now, you just need to make sure that your lover actually sees this list before you go to bed. Maybe if you share it to their Facebook wall and tag their mother that will work. You know the mom-in-law understands.

pop culture / PotD

6 Reasons To Never Give Up

November 24, 2015

The secret of our success is that we never, never give up.—Wilma Mankiller, Principle Chief of the Cherokee, 1985-1995

Today’s picture is rarely posted because we typically go with the more familiar frame that resembles the famous Rosie the Riveter illustration from World War II. In some ways, though, I prefer this to the original because it demonstrates that strong and independent women don’t stop being attractive and sexy. That never give up attitude has its own form of attraction that is accentuated in the full-length pose. Jennifer Baxter did a great job on the body art, too, don’t you think?

This time of year, a lot of people look at what hasn’t been accomplished and give up. Actually, this time of year, a lot of people have difficulty just getting out of bed. When the sun doesn’t even start coming up until you’re already half-way through your morning, it screws with one’s sense of place and time. After fighting the same emotions day in and day out, persevering becomes a tremendous challenge. That’s why we have today’s list.

6 Reasons To Never Give Up

Plenty of people didn’t succeed on their first try; giving up removes the opportunity to win.
Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team. Julia Child didn’t start cooking until she was in her mid-30s. Dr. Ruth Westheimer survived the Holocaust, immigrated to the US, raised a family, and didn’t even start talking about sex until she was in her 50s. Keep trying. Amazing things are yet to happen.

You can’t see the future; giving up denies you the victory right around the corner.
There are no crystal balls. Horoscopes are ineffective. That line about once a loser always a loser? Absolute bullshit. There’s no giant carrot dangling in front of us, but that doesn’t mean that the reward isn’t waiting for us to get there. Keep going. You’re almost there.

There’s only one you; giving up leaves a void no one else can fill.
What you do, your voice, your presence in the universe is wholly unique and the universe relies on you being here, being you, to make everything complete. No one can take your place. No one else has your perspective. You are the one piece to the puzzle that makes the picture complete.

No one is going to just hand you success; giving up takes you out of contention.
You cannot win the race you haven’t run. While that sounds like a rather simple platitude, the reality is that success doesn’t just show up at the front door after you’ve been sitting on your ass all day. Imagine the futility of planting a garden but never watering it. If you want the food, if you want the car, if you want anything, you have to get up and go get it; life doesn’t have an at-home delivery service.

Darkness doesn’t last forever; giving up makes you blind to the sunrise yet to come.
There are days when life seems to have been going on for so very, very long without any noticeable progress and you just want to go back to bed and sleep all day. Darkness has a way of making us think that it is going to last forever, but it lies. Sunrise is inevitable, but one has to stay awake long enough to see it. Now is not the time for a nap.

You are setting an example; when you give up, you teach others to give up as well.
One doesn’t have to be famous or a parent or in a position of authority to be a role model. No matter who you are, no matter how isolated you may feel, someone is watching you and is patterning their own life after yours. The responsibility we have to persevere is tremendous. Sometimes what ends up making the biggest difference is the legacy we leave for someone else to follow. Your legacy has yet to be written.

It’s Tuesday and this is a short week. You’ve got this. Get up, get dressed and make things happen!

Note: After all that talk I need to make one point very clear: if you even think you may be suffering from any form of depression, please seek professional help. Feeling unmotivated, frustrated with a current situation, or just tired from working too long without a break are situations we can conquer on our own; depression is not. Depression is a disease that kills too many people. Please, get help.

Art / Music / pop culture / PotD

5 Memories From Last Summer

November 23, 2015

charles i. letbetter - 5 Things About Last Summer

We cannot stop the winter or the summer from coming. We cannot stop the spring or the fall or make them other than they are. They are gifts from the universe that we cannot refuse. But we can choose what we will contribute to life when each arrives.—Gary Zukav

Technically, this isn’t the best photo I’ve ever taken, even though it’s one of my favorites. Summer photos are usually brighter and the fact that the whole photo is set on a diagonal slant is a bit unnerving to the eyes. The location had limitations that prevented me from shooting from a better position, though, and working with a diagonal frame was the only way to capture the reflection with the equipment I had available.

I don’t know how things are where you live, but we’re shivering in our shoes this morning with a wind chill of 20° F. I know many of us in the North had our first significant snowfall this weekend and while some find that exciting, most of us are less than thrilled. Where did that extended summer go? Summer is always full of memories, and this one was no exception, so let’s take a look at five things from this summer that we really shouldn’t forget.

US Wins Women’s FIFA World Cup
Did we see that coming? No, not really. We wanted it to happen, but when it comes to FIFA level play, the US just hasn’t had the best luck in the past. Routing Japan 5-2 was totally unexpected unless one happens to be a die-hard supporter of the team. This was one of the best feel-good moments of the summer.

Misty Copeland Promoted to Principal Ballerina at American Ballet Theater
This just doesn’t happen; black women don’t become principals in American ballet. One of the longest-standing bastions of racist tradition in the US fell with a thundering crash when Misty Copeland was promoted to Principal Ballerina this past June. Her promotion not only opens the door of diversity in American ballet but gives hope to millions of little girls in pink tights and toe shoes all across the country. Here’s a sample.

Inside Out Hit Theaters
There were lots of movies that had a bigger box office this summer, but none will have a larger long-term effect than this animated movie from Disney/Pixar that, more than anything, helps kids better understand what emotions are and the importance of feelings. The price of a movie ticket and popcorn is likely the cheapest source of therapy this generation will ever experience.

Shut Up And Dance was the feel-good song of the summer
Again, it wasn’t the biggest seller of the summer, but Walk The Moon’s catching song and its unusual video was the one song that brought multiple generations onto the dance floor to strut their stuff. My youngest son introduced me to the song and it’s been on my playlists ever since. Even now, the song is still charting.

Spending Time With Family
This is why we love summer; those moments in the park, or the pool, or the lake, or hiking, or whatever brings your family together. While school is in session, everyone is going their own direction with a dozen different activities, but summer gives us time to do things together, things we’ll remember the rest of our lives. We went traveled, spent time with extended family, and cooked food outside over fire. There are so many pictures I’m still not done editing them all. This is how summer should be.

I can’t keep the cold from coming any more than I can keep my old bones from hurting, but we can keep the memories of summer alive and maybe, just maybe, that will help keep us warm on the inside a little bit longer.

pop culture / PotD

The Final Countdown(s)

November 22, 2015

I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.—Martin Luther King, Jr.

We’re hurtling toward the end of the year and that means we only have ten, count ’em, #POTD posts left before we take our December break. So, we’re going to spend these final few days with pictures that we weren’t able to make fit anywhere else and counting down a number of things we think are fun and important.

There’s no real cohesive point to the images. Some, like today’s, are quite old by digital standards. The Legends Football League’s Cynthing Schmidt was only 19 years old when we took this picture. Now, you’ll find her popping up in places like Sports Illustrated’s Lovely Lady of the Day feature. She seems to have done quite well for herself, but that has absolutely nothing to do with today’s list.

10 Things We Need To Do Before The End Of The Year

Kiss A Baby.
Chances are, unless you live in a cave with absolutely no interaction with anyone, you know someone who has a baby, or at least a toddler. Nothing is as calming and joyful as being slobbered upon by a six-month-old who thinks you taste good.

Spend five minutes doing nothing but petting an animal. Animals are wonderful givers of affection and are surprisingly effective at de-stressing humans. Just be selective about the animal. Lions and fish aren’t so cuddly.

Take an online class. Yep, there’s still time for you to actually accomplish something so that you’re not totally embarrassed while visiting with family over the holidays. Mashable has a good list here.

Donate some time to a charity. This time of year, charities who directly help the poor need more than just money, they need your time. Packing and distributing food take a lot of effort. If you have children, make it a family affair. The lesson in giving is invaluable.

Count your blessings. Seriously. Pen. Paper. Write. Do it the old-fashioned way so that it actually sticks in your head how fortunate you’ve been this year. Then, seal it in an envelope to open next year when you’re feeling blue.

Try the new Oreos® churros. Seriously. They’re real. Check here for details. The holidays are time for special treats, right? J&J Foods just gave us the best present ever. You know you want to try them. Go ahead. Give in. We won’t tell.

Read a book. You’ve been meaning to do that all year, but somehow the time just slips away. There are a lot of lists with great titles from which to choose. We rather like the choices at NPR Books, or just visit a bookstore and browse!

Join a sing-a-long. The world is full of timid singers that would never dare to sing in public on their own, but one of the joys of this time of year is that several groups sponsor community sing-a-longs, usually featuring holiday songs that everyone knows. Look around and find one near you.

Wrap something different in bacon. There is no going wrong with bacon. I’ve put it around food I otherwise detest and it totally changes my ability to down brussel sprouts. I’m thinking bacon wrapped sugar cookies sounds like a good idea.

Thank a service member. Holidays can be especially tough for those who are away from their families. Remember, the US military is comprised totally of volunteers. Show them some appreciation for their sacrifice.

This is your final chance to keep the year from totally sucking and should keep you busy for a moment or two. Should you become bored, don’t worry, we have more lists coming all week!

PotD

Future Thoughts

November 21, 2015

And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you’d planned.—Lynn Redgrave

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Planning for the future is one of those things we are instructed to do from the moment we first begin primary school. Kindergarten prepares us for first grade., then we’re prepped for Middle School which, n turn, prepares us for High School, and at some point, somewhere, we’re supposed to graduate from something being fully prepared for the future, but we never truly are. There are always surprises. Our best plans are laid to waste when the future doesn’t happen exactly the way we anticipate.

We have ten days left in November. Of those, at least two are taken up with Thanksgiving events and, for us, celebrating a seven-year-old’s birthday. Some of you will spend time traveling back and forth, and the more dim-witted among us will waste time standing in line to spend money they don’t really have on things they don’t really need. When all is said and done, there might be four days of half-way decent productivity before December hits. That’s not a lot of time to plan.

Once December hits, this blog shuts down for the rest of the calendar year. Next week we try cramming in all the stuff that didn’t fit elsewhere. I’ll post something snarky on the first just because it’s my 55th birthday and I can’t let that pass without flinging something silly into the cybersphere. Beyond that, though, the rest of this year is given to planning for the next: what we will post, what we won’t, what we’ll change, what we’ll completely eliminate, and whether there’s anything new worth tossing into the mix. There are a lot of things to consider. We’ve already been doing research, looking at the year’s stats, and formulating ideas.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Today’s picture is exactly what one would see if they were looking over my shoulder while I’m in research and planning mode, attempting to divine the future. We play with pictures and try new editing techniques. We do a lot of reading. We check trends. Yet, for all that activity, I almost always end up sitting here, pipe in hand, headphones on my head, and when appropriate a shot of scotch within easy reach, wondering if I’m wasting my time.

What makes planning for the future so difficult and uncertain is that we do so expecting certain things to stay the same. We expect the same people to remain in our lives, fulfilling the same roles, behaving in a predictable fashion. We know some things, such as technology, will change, but we expect the base elements of our lives to stay put and when they are suddenly and unexpectedly altered, everything we had planned for the future suddenly goes out the window. There have been too many years where I counted upon a level of stability that just didn’t happen; the future wasn’t remotely predictable.

December planning may be a sure sign of mental instability on my part, but at this stage of my life it’s as much habit as anything, and I really can use the break from trying to find 600 or so words at 4:00 every morning. Looking into the next year, I know PFC Letbetter will be stationed in Japan, a handful of people are getting married, politicians and terrorists will both be disruptive, and mobile devices will complete their takeover of the internet. Beyond that, though, anything is a guess and if you want to see how it all turns out, you’ll just have to keep watching.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Relationship Status

November 20, 2015

As much as I’m not a journalist, I use journalism. And when you photograph a relationship, it’s quite wonderful to let something unfold in front of you.—Annie Leibovitz

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Relationship can be a dangerous word. Neither Kat nor I have anything listed under “relationship status” on social media, and that isn’t likely to change any time too terribly soon. We both hate mushy, public displays of oh-my-significant-other-is-so-wonderful and we laugh and roll our eyes when we somehow still manage to find ourselves being that couple. We’ve both had relationships before, so this isn’t new. Unexpected might be a better word.

Almost three years have passed since Kat and I first met. Once we started talking to each other, we never stopped. Interestingly enough, the one thing we were both fairly sure did not actually exist was love. Having tried the relationship thing before and failed miserably, we were neither one convinced that this whole love thing was even possible. Mutual attraction? Sure. Long-term tolerance for the sake of companionship? Absolutely. Actual love? Nah, it’s a myth.

Okay, so we might have been wrong. We’re not the first two people in the history of the world to start a relationship without giving in to what we were pretty sure was a myth. Once that opinion changed, we still didn’t want to be all mushy about it. After all, there’s 25 years difference in our ages. We get strange looks just holding hands in public, and that typically has less to do with relationship and more to do with my damn legs not wanting to hold me upright. The expression on people’s faces when we do kiss in public is annoying. Of course, the expression on our faces when we see couples kissing in public is pretty annoying as well. Mush. Blech.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]An interesting thing happened as more acquaintances figured out that Kat and I were actually a couple; the disbelief of those friends on the fringe became anger, or jealousy, or something else not exactly in the category of accepting. For Kat, there was a sudden rush of would-be suitors who suddenly felt the need to declare that they had loved her first, they just hadn’t gotten around to saying anything yet. One guy even hilariously assumed that she only liked me for my money. We still laugh about that one.

On my end, though, the response to our relationship was more silent; the kind of silence that occurs when one witnesses something horrible happening right in front of them. Some just stopped talking. Others unfriended and blocked me on social media. And those who are still emotionally stuck in high school talked behind our backs, but not to our faces. While no one terribly close was involved, the response is still disappointing. We thought we had chosen only intelligent acquaintances.

Three years in, our relationship status isn’t likely to change. I’m more surprised than anyone that this relationship thing has actually happened because I was so very convinced it wasn’t possible. What we’ve learned is that love does exist, that we’re not on some existential list of doom, and that it’s rather entertaining when I tell the doctor Kat’s my fiancé, not my daughter. To those who still have a problem with us, I have but one word for you: Goodbye.[/one_half_last]

Music / PotD

When The Music Dies

November 19, 2015

To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have houses, music, paintings – it’s all a miracle. I have adopted the technique of living life miracle to miracle.—Arthur Rubinstein

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]”Do you still play?”

Something in me dies a little every time I’m asked that question. Music was such an overwhelming part of my life for the first 26 years. To no be playing, or conducting, or doing something creative in the field seems like a giant disappointment to myself, my parents, and all the teachers who suffered myriad lessons where I had failed to practice sufficiently. The adult I am now is less than pleased with the child I was then.

I miss making music outside of myself. I miss being part of an organization and having talented individuals with which to work, even amateurs. I miss the feeling of excitement when everything comes together in a performance and sends chills up my spine. Memories of the intensity of those moments make me glad that I had them, but wonder if I could still re-create that feeling now after being away for so long. With continued, every-day immersion in the music comes a sensitivity to the subtleties; one hears things in the 453rd listening that one did not hear before. Certainly, any sense of precision I once had would be gone now.

Questions linger in my mind as to whether I could ever return to a shadow of the musician I once imagined myself to be. For too many years, schedules that created 18- to 22-hour days prevented me from even being able to touch a piano. The day I finally sold the instrument at which I had sat through my entire childhood was painful, but not because I was losing anything that at that point was an integral part of my life. Rather, it was like the passing of a once-dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in twenty years. Mastery of music does not happen in a casual come-and-go relationship; either one is fully committed or one is merely a dabbler.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Kat used the children as an excuse for buying a keyboard a couple of years ago. We immediately set it up right next to my desk so that I could simply turn and play a few bars as the mood struck. Such an arrangement proved impractical for space as small as ours, though, and now it sits in the studio, out of sight. I typically wait until everyone is gone before slipping in there and playing for a few minutes. Each time I do, I am painfully reminded of how much skill and dexterity I’ve lost. My hands hurt as I try to execute a simple two-octave scale. Fingers fumble over keys that they once knew intimately.

Not that music is totally absent from my life, mind you. My playlists stretch on for hours and hours; some of them could fill an entire day without any hint of repetition, but I doubt such a thing is all that unusual. My opinions and criticism of music is still just as strong as ever, also. Some may remember earlier this year when a video went viral of Denver quarterback Peyton Manning “conducting” the Denver Symphony in an incredibly weak and pathetic rendition of the University of Tennessee’s fight song, “Rocky Top.” What ruined the video for me was that Manning was holding the baton backward. How did no one correct such an obvious error?

If, as Rubenstein suggests, music is a miracle, then I have let that miracle quite literally slip through my fingers. I keep telling myself that one of these days I’ll have sufficient time and discipline to bring back the Beethoven and the Debussy, perhaps to even find a small group of which I might be a part, but we know that won’t actually happen. The music that once dominated my life has died. Perhaps it is time to let it rest in peace.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Father, In Absentia

November 18, 2015

My mother and father were both much more remarkable than any story of mine can make them. They seem to me just mythically wonderful.—Orson Welles

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]This is going to hurt.

Even if I were perfect, there is no way I could ever live up to my impression of my own father. He wasn’t perfect himself, either, but even in his humanity and inevitable error, there was never a moment when I felt anything short of total, complete love from him. Were he still alive, Poppa would be 86 years old tomorrow and, regardless of what his physical condition might be. would still be trying to love everyone, including all the grandkids. That’s just who he was.

Unfortunately, he didn’t pass on much of that trait to me. Actually, I think my younger brother caught the gentle side of Poppa’s personality and he wears it extremely well. My brother makes a very good father to his little girl (even though she’s at an age where she may not appreciate that just yet). I picked up more of my grandfather Slover’s traits, the temper, the ability to keep people at a distance, being easily annoyed and slow to display any emotion. Does anyone want to trade?

I’ve been away from the boys now over ten years. I assure you, this wasn’t the plan. I was only going to Indianapolis for eight months, get my head on straight, then move back to Atlanta and start over. From Atlanta, I would have still been able to stay in the boys’ lives, attended concerts, show support, been something more like a dad. But that didn’t happen, did it? I was stuck up here and my boys were stuck with a dad they rarely get to see. Things have improved lately, we were able to spend some time together this summer, but still, the boys don’t have a dad, they have a father, in absentia.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Many years ago, I read an article I didn’t imagine could be true; that children of divorced parents were more likely to be strong leaders, to be tough and shrewd business people, and fare better than children who had both parents. Then, in 2013, Paul Tough’s book How Children Succeed (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt), made the argument that children of single parents have more grit and determination, pushing them ahead, giving them the drive to succeed. Both Presidents Clinton and Obama were raised by single parents. So, maybe I’m doing them a favor by not being there.

Does anyone else think that’s nothing more than a copout? Statistics can be twisted to say just about anything we want and these studies seem, in my mind, to be little more than an attempt to cover the guilt of having left. And even if my boys are better in some way for having been without me, I’m certainly not better; I’ve lost.

I’m getting a bit of a second chance now. I’ve been with Kat’s little ones longer than their bio-dad. They’ve even, just recently, started calling me Dad and that feels all warm and fuzzy. But the guilt still plagues me. Can I give to these little ones the father my own children never had?

The picture on my desk reminds me that my boys are not children, but young men, one’s even a Marine, about to deploy to Okinawa in a few weeks. There’s not a day that goes by, though, that I wish I could have been the father for them that mine was for me. The guilt won’t pass. They deserved better. [/one_half_last]

PotD / Social Commentary

Getting By With A Little Help

November 17, 2015

But what we can do, as flawed as we are, is still see God in other people, and do our best to help them find their own grace. That’s what I strive to do, that’s what I pray to do every day.—Barack Obama

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]The cane sits close to my desk, just in case I need the help. I hate the damn thing. I hate the sight of it, and even more the fact that I should probably use it more than I do. Rain will force me to use it today, I already know. Tomorrow may be another such day as well. With winter beginning to set in, the days when I need the help are going to begin outnumbering the days I don’t. I am somewhat pissed off by the knowledge there are 80-year-old men out running marathons while I can’t get down the hall to the bathroom without assistance.

I never have liked asking for help. Somewhere in my head, for some reason, me asking for help is a sign of weakness. I don’t mind others asking for help when they need it, though I am slightly annoyed when a certain five-year-old asks for help tying her shoes when she’s yet to try for herself. I don’t want to ask anyone for help and I don’t like so often being in a position of needing help that, at times, it feels as though I can’t do anything without some form of assistance. Losing any bit of my independence strikes deep at my soul, leads to depression and questioning my own value in the world. I have quite possibly thrown my cane across the floor in frustration.

Yet, here I am again this morning, needing to lean on something, or someone. I woke up this morning barely able to move. Independence is a myth. I’ve become reliant on Kat and some days when she has to be gone for prolonged periods I often limit my own activities for fear that, should something happen, there’s no one here to help (the cats are absolutely no help at all). When I go for a walk, I have to make sure my phone is well charged in case I should fall, become lost or confused, or need a ride home.

I never expected to have these limitations at this age and it angers me to no end that I can’t keep up with everyone else on the planet. Needing help, even from an inanimate object totally under my control, is emotionally deflating.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]I am one of the lucky ones. Despite my challenges, I have always known that someone has had my back; friends who have made sure I had something to eat, that drove me to doctors appointments, and kept a roof over my head. Not everyone is so fortunate. Nearly four million people in the United States will experience homelessness this year. Of those, almost 60 thousand of those are veterans; 1.3 million are children. They’re just out there, on their own, struggling to exist.

The second stanza of the poem on the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor reads:

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

At this very moment, there are 10,000 Syrian refugees, and more from other war-torn countries, waiting at our shore, looking for help. Yet, because of the cowardly actions of a handful of Daesh morons, there are many of us wanting to hide behind a wall of fear and not let them in. We would rather let them starve or die of hypothermia than accept the risk that comes with being compassionate.

If America has become this country who is afraid too afraid of the shadow of terrorism to keep the refugees of that terrorism alive, then we have lost every last shred of our independence; our fear cripples us just as severely as arthritis in my back and legs. I have a cane on which I can lean, and friends ready to help. The millions homeless and those fleeing terror need help as well. The time has come to step up and be that help.[/one_half_last]

PotD / Social Commentary

Grumpy Old Man

November 16, 2015

Am I grumpy? I might be. But I think maybe sometimes it’s misinterpreted.—Harrison Ford

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I don’t think of myself as a smoker. I don’t like cigarettes at all; can’t stand the damn things. I light my pipe when the situation around me is frustrating and I need to detach and focus on something that doesn’t involve sending my blood pressure further into the stratosphere. Surprisingly, the need to do so doesn’t occur as often as one might think. And yeah, I know it’s better to use a match than a lighter, but hey, expediency was important, not the quality of the smoke. If you’re going to bitch at me, go away. I’m grumpy.

It was determined long ago, before I was even 30, that I would eventually become a Grumpy Old Man. How that was evident at such a young age, I don’t know. Perhaps I’ve always been fussy. I do know that I’ve always had a short fuse and very little tolerance for stupidity, which seems to have grown dramatically. In fact, I’m willing to bet that the world’s overly abundant ignorance is another contributing factor to my blood pressure issues. The universe should be paying for my medicine. Grumpy Old Man status has been achieved and the morons of the world, all seven billion of them, are to blame.

What I wouldn’t have guessed some 30 years ago is that there would be so very much Grumpy Old Man fodder; it’s everywhere. Let’s start with the idiots in the neighborhood who apparently don’t recognize a stop sign when they see it. The signs for the all-way stop are not hidden behind trees or difficult to see from a distance. No, the people running them are just completely selfish assholes who don’t give a damn about anyone’s safety, including their own. I may have been seen standing out in the street yelling at them more than once, hoping their cars blow up. Why? Because I’m a Grumpy Old Man.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]I was recently complaining about the fools running the stop signs and someone referenced the character of Mr. Wilson from Hank Ketcham’s cartoon, Dennis the Menace. I can support that comparison. Mr. Wilson was someone who just wanted some peace and quiet in his retirement years, and low-and-behold the Mitchells move in next door and give birth to one of the brattiest little kids to ever don a pair of overalls and carry a slingshot. Understand, Dennis wasn’t even old enough for school. Why the hell did the kid have a slingshot? I can totally understand Mr. Wilson’s frequent frustration.

The world needs grumpy old men. If it weren’t for us, the rest of the world would be grabbing another beer and continually shouting, “Hey, watch this!” How do you think terrorist groups are formed? There obviously were no grumpy old men around to slap the insolent jackasses upside the head when they first suggested killing large numbers of people for the attention. What were they thinking, that the collective peoples of the world would just say, “Oh, you poor thing, here, have a cookie?” No, the world responds by blowing the fucking morons to smithereens. Asswipes.

I am quite content to take on the Grumpy Old Man role; I’m settling into it and it feels as comfortable as an old sweater. At some point, I’m going to need a larger front porch on which I can set a rocking chair so that the visual impact of the role is complete. I’m also going to need a dog that growls at anyone smelling of fancy men’s perfume. Being a Grumpy Old Man is my right, my destiny, and I happily embrace this important social position. Now, hand me my pipe and stay the fuck off my lawn! [/one_half_last]

PotD

What I Am

November 15, 2015

For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ And whenever the answer has been ‘No’ for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.—Steve Jobs

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Every year about this time, in the gap between my photography anniversary and my birthday, I hit this period of existential angst as the universe seems to force me to look into a mirror and answer the questions of who and what I am. Almost every year, I spend the first few days of this reflection totally depressed and somewhat despondent as I consider just how much I wanted to do compared to how little was actually achieved. Then, I snap out of that funk and spend the rest of the year trying to figure out how to make the next year better. Sometimes it works, but this year it didn’t.

As a result, I am dragging you, dear reader, along with me on my journey this week as I more openly consider what I am. Am I a photographer? A writer? A musician? A cripple? A father? A lover? Or just a blowhard with an over-sized ego trying to get attention? There is at least one person who would answer affirmatively for each of those questions, and none of them would be totally incorrect. We are all complex, multi-faceted individuals and if we gave your life the same level of examination we might find even more questions worth asking. I’ll admit to having an ego, but I consider it an occupational necessity. More importantly, is the ego justified?

What I think is important for me this year is not so much a matter of identity, which is why I’m not asking who I am, but more a matter of definition, hence what I am. Who I am can be superficial, but what I am runs deeper and forces one to consider in what areas one is truly effective, where we make a difference, and to what degree we understand what we’re doing. Defining what I am should, to a limited point of reason, provide a more solid vision of how to plan for the next year, playing off strengths and determining whether to shore up weaknesses or let them float away.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]I think I can readily admit that one thing I am not is overly neat. We live in a world where people with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) set the standard for personal organization and clutter-free living. What we’re ignoring is that being so driven to have a place for everything and everything in its place is a disorder; a recognized mental deficiency that prevents one from accepting the world as it is: messy. I’m not OCD about anything except maybe my coffee cup; don’t touch it.

Where the strongest battle lies is whether I am more a photographer or a writer. Do I communicate better with pictures or with words? On these pages, I blend both, but is that working; which one is stronger? How many people read the articles versus just looking at the pictures? When we look at income, revenue from writing and revenue from photography have been almost even this year; depressing, but even, which would indicate there is a similar value to both. But is one dominant over the other?

A term that is coming into its own, perhaps to the point of cliché, is using the word “creative” as an identifier. The use is especially strong among advertising and marketing agencies trying to maximize the multiple skills of a limited number of people in order to hold down personnel costs. As a result, instead of 40-member teams, each with a different role, we see ten-member teams of “creatives” who wear multiple hats. That definition seems to fit what I am, at least for now. I’m going to try it on, take it for a spin around the block, and see what happens.

charles i. letbetter, creative. Perhaps a bit pretentious, but accurate.[/one_half_last]

PotD / Social Commentary

Those We Hold Dear

November 14, 2015

Dear sisters and brothers, we realize the importance of light when we see darkness.—Malala Yousafzai

Katherine (2015)

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I was up early this morning, reading through the various news accounts of all that has happened in the past twenty-four hours. Even before I kicked myself out of bed, I wondered if I should abandon our theme and speak directly to the tragedies that have taken place. Without a doubt, this is a very solemn morning and it is not inappropriate that we might gather those we hold dear, hug each one tightly, and be thankful for the breath we breathe.

We have been reminded, once again, that tragedy is a severe part of the human existence. Those who are precious to us, whose lives are most dear, can be taken quickly, and it doesn’t take terrorists for that to happen. As I was scrolling through my newsfeed this morning, there was a taste of sadness much more personal and close to home in the small town of Red Oak, Oklahoma, where a dear soul suffered a heart attack and died as the library she managed was robbed. Red Oak is a small town of about 400 people, from where my brother and I graduated high school. The loss of one there is perhaps even more upsetting to that community that the loss of well over a hundred in Paris.

Faces around the world are filled with sadness, anger, and disbelief this morning. For far too many people, pictures of dear ones are now all they have left, underscoring yet again why photographs are so important. Faces of those we love are not faces we wish to ever forget, no matter what happens in the near or distant future. We want to remember the smiles, the laughter, the silliness, the greatness, the beauty, and the uniqueness of those we love. The relatively small price of portraits is irrelevant compared to the value of the memories these pictures hold.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Kat may throw something at me when she sees the caption under her picture this morning. “Only my dad calls me Katherine,” she’ll likely say. I’ll remind her that I also used the boys’ full names with their pictures earlier in the week and am just being consistent. She will, depending upon the presence of children, toss me a look or a gesture communicating her displeasure, then continue with her reading.

I take many more pictures of Kat than what I post, but of all this year’s portraits this one may be my favorite. I don’t know what anyone else sees, but I look at this photograph and see the face of one who loves to love; not just me, not just her children, but most anyone she meets who isn’t a complete asshole. Here is a face of one who forgives, encourages, sacrifices, and labors for those she holds dear; one who has served her country and values its freedoms. I love this face.

The winds that have plagued Indianapolis the past two days are finally calm. Dear friends in Paris are confirmed safe and well. Children have slept past their typical far-too-early wake-up time. Tragedy and terror and sadness are not going to overwhelm the day here.

Not everyone in the world shares that reality, though, and our heart goes out to those who wake up this morning without the face of that loved one to greet them, whether in Paris, or Red Oak, or anywhere else. Through all that has happened, and whatever might yet come, may we all know Peace, may we all find Hope, and may the faces of those we hold dear bring us Joy.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Always A Smile

November 13, 2015

Get up and dance, get up and smile, get up and drink to the days that are gone in the shortest while.—Simon Fowler

Zachariah (2015)

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I’ve been told that I don’t smile enough. Such comments typically come from people who really don’t know me all that well. Those who are around me the most often know that I actually smile rather often, but my smiles are not the big, toothy smiles that many people associate with happiness. Rather, mine are more subtle: the turning up of one corner of my mouth given away by a certain look in my eyes. Kat catches me smiling even when I don’t think that I am.

As a photographer, a smile isn’t always what I’m wanting to see. Sure, if we’re doing engagement photos or at a birthday party, then by all means, smile away. But for more editorial looks, especially those that involved carefully designed and applied makeup, a big smile can ruin everything. Smiles change the shape of the face, push the cheeks up toward the eyes, and often cause people to appear as though they are squinting. For editorial or fashion work, the wrong kind of smile can be absolutely devastating to the photograph.

A smile is a form of encouragement, an unspoken greeting that is inherently cheerful. Mother used to complain that one of the biggest differences between living in Kansas versus Oklahoma was that people in Kansas didn’t smile as much. Mom had a habit of smiling almost any time she was in public. When she met someone on the street she would smile and say hello. People from Oklahoma were like that once upon a time. When she moved to Kansas in 1958, though, folks up there looked at her as though she were crazy for smiling so much. She found the difference quite disheartening.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Zach inherited his grandmother’s quick smile. Even when he was a small child sitting in the front of the grocery cart, anyone who would make eye contact with him would be greeted with the biggest smile he could find. Baby smiles are contagious, you know, and I don’t recall a single instance where his smile wasn’t returned. Twenty-three years later, he’s a lot bigger and doesn’t come close to fitting in the front of a shopping cart, but make eye contact with him and see if that same smile doesn’t flash across his face, even when he’s busy working.

Smiles aren’t just something that happens at the mouth. Smiles take up the whole face, especially the eyes. The look in a person’s eyes when they smile lets one know whether the apparent cheer is sincere. A smile can be evil, after all. I have met a couple of people whose noses changed shape and flattened when they smile, which was interesting to observe. There are also some people who can’t seem to smile without blushing, no matter what might be the circumstances.

Smiling may be the best thing a face does. I think, at least anecdotally, people who smile more are easier to remember. We respond more positively to people who smile when we meet them for the first time. The absence of a smile on a person’s face tends to make us feel uncomfortable and we worry what might be wrong.

It’s Friday the 13th and a lot of people are likely to be needing a smile. Why not help out their face and give them a smile they remember? You’ll improve the world one face at a time.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Many Faces Of A Mom

November 12, 2015

She had a hit for every syllable: ‘Don’t. You. Ever. Talk. To. Me. Like. That. Ever. Again.’ That was the last time I ever talked back to Mom.—Misty May-Treanor

Brittney Jo (2015)

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Moms come with more facial expressions than anyone else on the planet, and they know exactly when to use each one. There’s no class they have to take, there are no books they have to read, by the time a young woman suffers through nine months of carrying a child who has poked, kicked, and punched every internal organ she has, she has an entire encyclopaedia of facial expressions ready for that child and is just waiting for the opportunity to use each one of them. A mom is not someone with whom one messes around.

Mom faces are unique in that only your mom’s expressions work on you. Your best friend’s mom can give you the same face and you just blow it off like, “Meh, she’s miffed, but what’s she really gonna do about it.” When your mom gives you a look, though, you know what she can do on the follow-up and you know you don’t want her to go there, especially in front of your buddies. By the time you’re nine or ten and starting to think of some really serious trouble, your mom has those looks down so well she hardly even has to speak to you. You just meet her eyes and you know; either she loves you more than anything, or one more slip up and she’s burning your bed on the front lawn.

I don’t think moms, especially young moms, really have much choice than to develop those facial expressions. They have so many other things going on around them, they don’t always have time to give a child the tongue lashing they deserve. I can remember some Sunday mornings when my mother would be singing in the church choir, smiling away until she saw that I wasn’t in my seat, but under the pew playing with the car I’d snuck into m suit pocket. She’d keep smiling until our eyes met. Pow. I was done for, my future was sealed and it wasn’t going to be pleasant. All that in one very brief glance that most people probably never noticed.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Brittney’s made some interesting faces over the few years I’ve known her. Rolling her eyes is a frequent one that adults are likely to get. Then, there’s that frustrated sigh when people who should be listening don’t. Brittney is a retail manager so sometimes she has to treat both employees and customers as though they were misbehaving children, and out come the danger looks; it’s a necessity of the job. Then, when she is around her own two darling and energetic little boys, there is a totally different set of looks ranging from complete adoration to I’m-Going-To-Sell-You-To-The-First-Circus-I-Find.

There is not anyone who can achieve as much with a single glance as can a mom. One look and you sit up straight and stop pinching your sister. One look and you hear yourself confessing to stealing the last cookie. One look and you really wish the whole earth would just open up and swallow you.

One look and you know you are loved and cherished more than anything or anyone in the world.

I’ve seen comedians who could make a lot of different faces, but no one is as effective as is a mom; it’s a talent inherent to the position. You’re not going to beat them, ever, not even after you’re a mom yourself. I’ve watched it happen while I was backing slowly away trying to not make any noise. The older mom won. No contest. I’m pretty sure I felt the earth shake, though. All the more reason to be good to y our mom. You don’t want that disappointed I-gave-birth-to-you look.

Behave. Mom’s watching. [/one_half_last]

PotD

Total Determination

November 11, 2015

Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.—Calvin Coolidge

Benjamin (2015)

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]There are times when I am frustrated by the lack of audience here. I look at yesterday’s numbers for example, the lowest all month, and wonder what the hell I have to do to get people’s attention on a regular basis. I question why I bother getting up so damn early in the morning, seven days a week, to make sure the pictures and articles are all here for you first thing. The answer: determination. I’m not willing to accept failure. We’ll re-tool around the first of the year, re-format, and keep trying.

Determination is one of those traits that tends to make itself quickly noticeable on a person’s face. Watch Lionel Messi’s face as he’s taking the ball downfield and you’ll see determination; he’s not going to be satisfied until that ball is in the goal. Watch Jason Heyward’s face when he steps up to bat for the Cardinals, or whomever he ends up playing for next season; the ball is going to be hit. And have you seen Peyton Manning’s face when he’s forced out of the pocket by a defensive lineman? He has no intention of going down with that ball.

Sports are not the only place where one sees such determination on a face, though. Watch the dad trying to change the diaper of a wiggling infant while using the baby changing station in a public facility; that is determination. Look at the face of a young woman as she prepares for her first job interview after college; you’re seeing determination. Better yet, admire the face of a young child as they build they attempt to build that tower of blocks higher and higher; physics be damned, they are going to put the red one on the very top, even if they have to stand on someone else to do so.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Benjamin has always been a determined individual, no matter what he was doing. He hates to lose (you really don’t want to play Monopoly with him). He sets a goal and isn’t satisfied until he reaches it. I still remember those painfully early Saturday mornings on the soccer field when he was six. The coach finally had to take him out of the game because Ben had to score every time, and more often than not, he did, much to the dismay of the other team. He’s a U.S. Marine now, and that same determination shows on his face more than ever.

Determination is what moves the world forward; people who refused to give up even when facing insurmountable odds. The men who signed the Declaration of Independence were determined to form, “a more perfect union.” Lewis and Clark were determined to map out the wilderness West of the Mississippi River. Dr. Jonas Salk was determined to find a way to prevent polio from ruining so many lives. Sure, mistakes, miscalculations, and unexpected changes in condition can at times thwart the best of plans, but those who ultimately win pick themselves up, along with those around them, and keep moving forward.

I have a great number of concerns about the future for a host of reasons I won’t list at the moment; the obstacles we face are significant and the current game plan hasn’t worked as well as we’d hoped. I have been so incredibly tempted to just give up. Don’t worry, we won’t. We move forward, adjusting, changing, re-tooling, and maybe even tearing some things down so we can rebuild. My face is as set as Ben’s. Hmm, I wonder where he get it.[/one_half_last]

PotD

There is science, logic, reason; there is thought verified by experience. And then there is California.—Edward Abbey

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You can’t worry if it’s cold; you can’t worry if it’s hot; you only worry if you get sick. Because then if you don’t get well, you die.—Joaquin Andujar

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I put my heart and my soul into my work and have lost my mind in the process.—Vincent Van Gogh

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My mother always kept library books in the house, and one rainy Sunday afternoon – this was before television, and we didn’t even have a radio – I picked up a book to look at the pictures and discovered I was reading and enjoying what I read.—Beverly Cleary

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We don’t develop courage by being happy every day. We develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.—Barbara de Angelis

Stay warm.

Avoid politics (and politicians) whenever possible.

Fight terror and violence by loving everyone.

Pay cash, save as much as possible.

Take more pictures: hire a professional.

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Unless one says goodbye to what one loves, and unless one travels to completely new territories, one can expect merely a long wearing away of oneself and an eventual extinction.—Jean Dubuffet

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Nearly half of the American population is eagerly anticipating the end of the world. This dewy-eyed nihilism provides absolutely no incentive to build a sustainable civilization. —Sam Harris

How To Survive THE END Times!

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Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening.—Coco Chanel

5 Signs You Are A Fashion Failure

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I haven’t trusted polls since I read that 62% of women had affairs during their lunch hour. I’ve never met a woman in my life who would give up lunch for sex.—Erma Bombeck

8 Solutions To Lousy Sex

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Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.—Benjamin Franklin

5 Ways To Make Your New Year Better

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The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late.—Ogden Nash

8 Reasons To Steal The Bed Covers

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The secret of our success is that we never, never give up.—Wilma Mankiller, Principle Chief of the Cherokee, 1985-1995

6 Reasons To Never Give Up

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We cannot stop the winter or the summer from coming. We cannot stop the spring or the fall or make them other than they are. They are gifts from the universe that we cannot refuse. But we can choose what we will contribute to life when each arrives.—Gary Zukav

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I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.—Martin Luther King, Jr.

10 Things We Need To Do Before The End Of The Year

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And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you’d planned.—Lynn Redgrave

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As much as I’m not a journalist, I use journalism. And when you photograph a relationship, it’s quite wonderful to let something unfold in front of you.—Annie Leibovitz

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To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have houses, music, paintings – it’s all a miracle. I have adopted the technique of living life miracle to miracle.—Arthur Rubinstein

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My mother and father were both much more remarkable than any story of mine can make them. They seem to me just mythically wonderful.—Orson Welles

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But what we can do, as flawed as we are, is still see God in other people, and do our best to help them find their own grace. That’s what I strive to do, that’s what I pray to do every day.—Barack Obama

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Am I grumpy? I might be. But I think maybe sometimes it’s misinterpreted.—Harrison Ford

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For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ And whenever the answer has been ‘No’ for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.—Steve Jobs

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Dear sisters and brothers, we realize the importance of light when we see darkness.—Malala Yousafzai

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Get up and dance, get up and smile, get up and drink to the days that are gone in the shortest while.—Simon Fowler