Category Archives: Marriage

West is East of East

Posted by dkrashb on

On our wedding day, we each went through our pre-wedding grooming with anticipation that was surprising considering we’d been living together for 10 years by the time we got married.

Me in my new dress (which Pat helped pick out) and Pat in his new suit (which he’d failed to get tailored, so it gave him a sweet little-boy-in-Dad’s-suit look), we headed towards Mesa.

As a side note, I did not help him pick out his suit.  He thought it was hilarious to not let me see it until the last possible second.  I think he was going for a backwards-themed wedding given that we’d already reversed so many other traditions.

We gave ourselves three times as much time as we’d been told we would need to get to the courthouse.  We had to arrive by 4:50PM so there would still be witnesses there to sign the wedding license.  The judge performed ceremonies after hours.

We made great time, got to the road the courthouse was on with plenty of time to spare, and headed East.  We crossed from W University Dr to E University Dr and started watching for the courthouse.  We got to the spot where it was supposed to be; there was no building with that address.

Puzzled, we turned around and drove back the other way, thinking maybe we had the address wrong and it was really W University Dr.  We got to where the address should should have been and, again, there was no building with that number.

We called the courthouse and they told us they were, in fact, on E University Dr and provided helpful hints for someone who’s never been there like “we’re right next to the intersection where the McDonald’s used to be.”

We turned around, headed back East, and came to the same place we’d been before.  No building had magically appeared.  I called again.  They seemed completely clueless as to where we could be or how to help.  We were starting to panic.  We were running out of time.

On a whim, we decided to keep going East in case there was some weird mis-ordering of addresses or something.  As we continued to go East, E University Dr suddenly became W University Dr again.  This made our heads spin.  I pulled out my glasses to make sure I was looking at the right road on Google maps on my Blackjack (remember those?) fearful we had just gone in a circle without realizing it.  We had not.

We nearly turned around again, but I had the sudden thought that if there were two W University Drives, there must be two E University Drives, too.  So, we kept going East.  And, lo and behold, there was another E University Dr and we found our courthouse just in time.

And that is the story of how I learned West is East of East.

P.S.  Photo Credits on pictures of us go to the Judge who married us–he took pictures with my PowerShot G3 while he was marrying us.

Cliff Driving

Posted by dkrashb on

I should start this story by saying I’m terrified of heights.  That said, after our mini-adventure at the Grand Canyon, we decided to take the scenic route back to Scottsdale via the Apache Trail.  This is a scenic drive, not a hike.  I use the term “drive” loosely.  Crawl might be more appropriate.

Somehow, in my meticulous planning of our trip and research on the Apache Trail, I failed to understand that a good portion is a 1 1/2 lane wide, two-way dirt road hung on the side of a cliff so steep and high that I couldn’t manage to look down it.  RVs apparently travel this road from time to time.  I’m convinced had I managed to gather the courage to look over the edge, I would have discovered where those RVs end up.

Since I had rented the car with my frequent traveler points and we hadn’t added Pat as a driver (they charge a lot for that), I had the great pleasure of driving in the outside lane with the cliff on the right.  This was OK since I could mostly drive on the left side of the road, leaving a 1/2 car-width gap between us and the edge of the cliff.  However, panic ensued when a car came the other direction.

This required finding a wide spot in the road, pulling as close to the guard-railless edge and stopping while I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my skin melded with the vinyl covering on the steering wheel.  I can’t claim I was the most pleasant person on this drive.

When the second car approached, it didn’t slow down.  It just came barreling at us like we were on some four-lane highway in the desert.  I got as close to the edge as I dared, stopped, and braced for impact.  The car slipped by so close that had our rearview mirrors been at the same height, they would have hit.  I suspect this was a local who takes great pleasure in terrorizing tourists.

At this point, I didn’t care what the rental car policy said.  I got out of the car and informed Pat I was not driving one more inch.

Unfortunately, sitting in the passenger seat next to the cliff where I couldn’t see the edge of the road was not exactly comforting.  It says a lot about my husband that he didn’t drop me off at the Phoenix airport instead of continuing straight to our hotel by the time we got off that road that was never meant to be a road.

The net of this “scenic” drive was that we didn’t get to enjoy the scenery except when we stopped to stretch at the periodic pullouts.  It also took about the same time to drive the dirt stretch as if we were riding mountain bikes.

My advice: follow the lead of the Apache and walk the darn thing!

Like life, it’s beautiful, but best enjoyed as a destination rather than a route.

Honeymooning

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Ah, dear readers, you are in trouble now:  I have been digging through my old photos again!  Guess what I dug up?  Yes, it’s my wedding.  Well, more accurately, my honeymoon followed by my marriage.  We don’t often do things traditionally.

We decided to elope.  We, coincidentally, had purchased a special deal on 3 nights in a resort in Scottsdale, Arizona earlier that year and had yet to set a date to use it.  This, combined with the fact that, in Arizona, you can get a marriage license the same day you get married set our destination for us.  The dates available for the resort picked our dates.

I imagined a grand adventure to the Grand Canyon–getting married on an overlook before hiking off into the sunset with our backpacks. Then, a luxurious honeymoon in Scottsdale.

Although I had flown over the Grand Canyon many times, I’d never been to it.  It didn’t occur to me that the rim of the canyon is at high altitude.  As I started planning the trip, I soon learned that not much is open at the Grand Canyon in December.

That’s why we ended up doing the honeymoon part of the trip first.

In the end, we drove from the Phoenix airport to Williams, passing through the mountains over icy roads in a snowstorm that seemed to have appeared from nowhere compared to the weather we’d left behind.

We spent the night on Route 66 in a “Honeymoon Suite” Caboose.  It sounded romantic when I booked it.  If you’re looking for a recommendation, I’d say it would be a great place to stay when the outdoor temperature is perfect for sleeping.  Turns out an old caboose has zero insulation and . . . you guessed it . . . it’s made of metal.  You can imagine how thermally efficient that was on a night when it was way below freezing.  Let’s just say it became clear to me why they called it the honeymoon suite (refer to hypothermia survival tactics if you’re confused).

In the morning, we took the train up to the Grand Canyon.  However, we had to make a quick stop at a local general store first.  This is how the discussion went:

Pat:  “You can’t wear your hiking sandals and socks in the snow!”

Me:  “It’s all I brought when we decided we weren’t going to backpack.  I’ll be fine.”

Pat:  “Let’s just get you a pair of snow boots before we get on the train.”

Me:  “Snow boots!  The train leaves at 7AM!  Where are we going to find a pair of snow boots in the off-season in a tourist town at 6:30 in the morning???”

Pat:  “I’m sure there will be a place open.”

Me:  “Why would anyone be open at 6:30 in the morning???”

(This was a pre-coffee conversation.)

Believe it or not, there’s a general store in the middle of Williams that’s open at 6:30AM who sells snow boots in December.  Go figure.

Date Night Plus One

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Last weekend, my husband suggested something fun, a little romantic, not strenuous, and inclusive of Tisen.  He suggested getting take out and going up to Signal Point to watch the sunset.

He had a craving for fried chicken.  This is monumental.  I have known my husband for going on 18 years now; he’s eaten chicken exactly twice in those 18 years.  The first time was last March.  I’m beginning to think southern culture is getting to him.

This craving resulted in me waiting inside NIkki’s Drive In for our dinners to be prepared while Pat waited in the car with Tisen.

While I sat, I pondered the meaning of “drive in.”  Nikki’s is a place that is most easily reached by driving.  However, there are certainly houses well within walking distance and even more within biking distance.  I’m certain they don’t turn customers away who get there by either of these means.  They aren’t one of those places where you can pull up and park and order through a microphone and they come out on roller skates to serve you.  In fact, they don’t even have a drive through window.  They have a parking lot.  Does having a parking lot qualify a restaurant as a “drive in”?

When I got our food, we drove up to Signal Point without using the GPS.  Pat took 2 wrong turns in spite of me pointing and saying, “turn, turn, turn! TURN!”  I think this is a common marital problem.

When we got to Signal Point, a couple was already at the only picnic table.  We picked a rock along the hillside to sit on while we ate.  Pat, my romantic husband, had spent an inordinate amount of time packing Tisen’s elaborate dinner so Tisen could eat with us.

Tisen is on a special diet.  It consists of all raw foods.  His fur is softer and stays cleaner longer.  His teeth look cleaner.  He has more energy and seems to limp less.  Yet, he still suffers from the allergies that caused us to change his diet in the first place.

He gets a mixture of reconstituted foods along with herbs and supplements that put our own diets to shame.  This is all mixed with organic coconut oil.  Pat prepared it all and had it ready to go for Tisen while we picked at our fried chicken.

Tisen was pretty sure the fried chicken would taste better than his health food.  I’m pretty sure he was right.

As the sun started to set, the moon rose higher in the sky.  I couldn’t resist trying to get a vertical shot with both the river valley and the moon.  Then, I couldn’t decide which one I liked better.  The one with the sun still hitting the foreground, the one with the foreground in shadow, or something in between?  There wasn’t much going on with the sky, but it was still a lovely evening as are most evenings on Signal Mountain, I suspect.

Cross-Country, uh, Wrestling?

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Back in 2009-2010, we decided to spend two weeks in the Canadian Rockies over Christmas and New Year’s.  On this particular day of that trip, I’d managed to talk Pat into renting cross-country skis.

My logic was simple.  It was about -22 degrees Fahrenheit that day.  We were either going to end up sitting in the lobby of our hotel all day (and it was not the kind of lobby you want to hang out in) or we were going to find something to do outdoors that would keep us warm.

I don’t know of any outdoor activity that keeps a person warmer than cross-country skiing.  It’s the equivalent of going running with trekking poles.  You use every muscle in your body, including some you may not have known you had, and the only time you get a rest is if you happen to go downhill.

Since Pat had never cross-country skied before, we chose a flat, groomed trail listed as easy.  This may not have been the best idea–Pat never got to experience what gliding down a gentle hill feels like.  In fact, I don’t think Pat got to experience what gliding felt like at all–for him, cross-country skiing was more of a wrestling match.

As it turns out, cross-country skiing does not keep a person warm when said person must stop and wait for wrestling spouse to catch up every 5 minutes or so.  And, shocking as this may be, being impatiently waited for every 5 minutes or so does not exactly make the wrestling spouse enjoy his wrestling match more.  This was not one of those activities that turned out to be good for our marriage.

I’m better at being patient when I’m not cold and he’s better at learning a new activity when I’m not around doing it better than him.  The fact that he had never done it before and I had did not seem to make him feel any better.  It certainly didn’t keep me any warmer.

I did my best to pretend I was grateful he was taking so long because it gave me time to shoot.  It also allowed us to see some deer along the trail who didn’t notice we were there, possibly because they couldn’t perceive we were in motion.

The trail was 18K to the lake and back.  We had read that doing the first 5K was well worth it.  If we made it out 2K, I would be surprised.  But it was good we turned around when we did–the sun was already getting low in the sky by the time we made it back to our car.  Days are short up North at the end of the year and the darker it gets, the more bitterly cold it gets.

Pat determined we could have hiked faster and declared that we weren’t going to bother with cross-country skis anymore.  So far, he’s a man of his word.

Related articles

Shoot

Posted by dkrashb on

I haven’t used the flash in many weeks.

I actually bought the flash because I needed it when trying to shoot a couple for their “Save the Date” announcements.  The plan was to do a follow up shoot to get something they can use for a decorative idea the bride had for their wedding reception.  However, it took weeks for me to get the flash unit and figure out how to use it.  Then, I had the new camera I was trying to learn to use and they were busy.  Finally, we scheduled a date but then it rained.  I would love to shoot in the rain, but I don’t think that’s what they’re looking for.

At long last, this Sunday I pulled out my flash stand and flash again and we went off to the Nature Center and Arboretum.  Assignment:  Get a shot of the happy couple in a natural setting that reflects how much they enjoy the outdoors.

Fortunately, they are members of the Nature Center so we were able to shoot up until dusk.  This was very helpful.

 

When we arrived, the first problem was the weather.  It was so incredibly hot and humid.  It hurt to breathe.  I felt a little sorry for myself lugging around so much equipment in the heat, but the bride-to-be was wearing what looked to be the most uncomfortable dress, so I stopped feeling sorry for myself and was grateful I didn’t have to wear anything hot.

The second problem was the insects.  I know my precious birds wouldn’t survive long if there weren’t a gazillion insects for them to eat, but I really resent that insects find me so tasty.  I guess better me than the bride.

The third problem was the sun.  It was far too bright when we arrived, leading to many squinty pictures.  We moved into a shady area to shoot until the sun started to drop, but this led to the fourth problem:  the place was completely surrounded by trees.  The sun went from too high and bright to too dark in a matter of minutes.

But the final, and most difficult problem to solve was me.  I find myself having no interest in thinking of interesting poses (or looking for poses on the internet).  I’m so focused on the subjects faces that I have to force myself to notice anything else.  I’m looking for a moment of expression when the muscles relax and just do what they really do.  Sometimes it’s very subtle.  I don’t really care if the hair is perfect or if the clothes are smooth or anything else because all I want to see is that split second when the muscles of the face sink into an unforced expression.

I find I do care about the out-of-place clothes and hair after the fact, unfortunately.  They make a difference when they distract, I find.  I just wish they would distract me a bit before I shot the photo.

Big Sky, No Fireworks

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This is supposed to be a post about photographing fireworks.  The gallery of photos is supposed to contain shots of glorious fireworks going off over the Lookouts’ stadium in downtown Chattanooga.

Sometimes things just don’t work out how you plan.

As my regular readers may recall, I previously went to Gibbs Gardens on a field trip with the Photographic Society of Chattanooga.  This time around, the field trip was right across the street.  In fact, it was on the very balcony of the One North Shore clubhouse that I shot from while dog sitting a few weeks ago.  But, it was intentionally scheduled on a night there would be fireworks at the Lookouts’ stadium.

Picking this evening for a photography event in the clubhouse was perfect in more ways than one.  First, the Lookouts have fireworks frequently enough that they don’t draw a crowd, so no one was going to be upset that the clubhouse was reserved like they would have been on July 3rd or at the conclusion of Riverbend.  Second, the organizer (who happened to also be my shooting buddy on the Gibbs Garden trip) somehow managed to pick a night when the clouds did really interesting things but didn’t rain out the fireworks.  And finally, it was a double header, which meant the fireworks were bigger and longer than usual.

I made arrangements with Twiggy’s parents to watch Tisen for the evening since Pat was on a road trip to Nashville.  Tisen could have a date night in one corner of the condo complex while I was busy shooting in the clubhouse in the opposite corner. Pat would pick Tisen up when he got home around 9PM.  All was set.

I wrapped up my day at the office as early as possible, slung my 5000 pounds of gear on my shoulders, got Tisen on a leash without knocking either one of us unconscious, and then we headed over to the park for a quick lap with Twiggy and her mom before I turned him over.

As a side note, carrying a backpack with 4 lenses and a full frame camera in it plus a tripod while doing a 2/3 mile walk with a dog in 95 degree weather does not leave one feeling fresh right before an evening event.

I made it to the clubhouse balcony and met a fellow photographer with the same camera.  He showed me how to use the in-camera HDR feature while I was there.  I have one image that was done using in-camera HDR, one that is not HDR, and the rest I used 5 exposures post-processed using Photomatix.  See if you can tell the difference.

Shortly after 9PM, I called Pat to find out if he had gotten Tisen yet.  It’s a good thing I did because he had completely forgotten and had just left Nashville.

I packed up my 5000 pounds of gear and, like any overly anxious parent, went down to retrieve my dog.

Reconstructing History

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While in the Canadian Rockies at Jasper National Park several years ago (still shooting with the PowerShot G3), we decided to take a “rest” day by hiking a relatively easy trail to a lake at the base of Mt Robson.  We drove from Jasper Park in Alberta to the Robson Provincial park in British Columbia in about an hour.

When we started out, the sky kept promising rain (in fact, it even sprinkled briefly), but then the clouds would part and a deep blue sky would appear.  When the sun was out, we broke a sweat working our way up the easy, but uphill, trail.  When cloud cover moved in, it was like someone had cranked up the air conditioning and I would get chilled almost immediately.

For most of the walk, the trail ran parallel to a treacherous but beautiful stream swelling with the “spring” snow melt (this was in July).  We didn’t see anyone attempting to navigate the stream, so I’m guessing the water was too intense for even really good kayakers.  It seemed like getting in the stream would be a really bad idea with or without a kayak to me.

When we arrived at Moose Lake, we were further away from the base of Mt. Robson than we expected, but given that Mt Robson is the tallest mountain in the Canadian Rockies, we still had plenty of good views of it, including the glacier nearby.

As I went through these photos from 2005, I discovered an interesting phenomenon.  I believe I was feeling lazy on this particular day not only in choosing an easy trail, but in my shooting.  I notice that the metadata in my pictures indicated I was mostly shooting with a wide-open aperture, with the smallest aperture setting being an f/8.

This was remarkable to me in two ways.  First, this is another thing to add to my list of things I’ve learned–I would not shoot these scenes with that setting today.  Second, it seems like they have much more depth of field than I would expect for such wide aperture settings.  This caused me to look at focal lengths.  They are mostly under 20mm with the shortest being 7mm (if I recall correctly).  Is that even possible?  Assuming my metadata is correct, the extremely short focal lengths are most likely contributing to the extra depth of field.  I assume I was shooting with an open aperture because we were walking in the shade quite a bit, so perhaps there wasn’t much light.

It’s always fun to try to reconstruct what happened 7 years ago based on the evidence collected in the metadata of your photos!

What I do remember clearly about this hike is that Pat and I were quite irritated with one another at the beginning of the hike, but back to laughing together by the time we were ready to return to the car.  Maybe that’s why I love hiking so much–it’s restorative in more ways than one.

Yes, I Can Cook

Posted by dkrashb on

After many days, weeks, or maybe even months of pleasantly letting trivial little disagreements slide by, suddenly some little nothing seems so important that we go to great lengths to prove we’re right.
Pat and I recently had a conversation that started when a new acquaintance offered to give me a recipe even though Pat was standing right next to me.

Later, when we chuckled about how often people erroneously assume I would be more interested in a recipe than Pat, I felt the need to remind my husband that I used to feed myself quite well. The conversation went like this:

“I can cook!” said I.
“Since when?” said he.
“I used to cook all the time.”
“Honey, what you did is called warming ingredients. You can’t really cook.”

I, who take great pride in my grilled cheese masterpieces as well as my incredibly fluffy scrambled eggs, decided I was going to have to dig deep to find photographic evidence that U have more than basic warming skills.

Thankfully, the first Thanksgiving after I got my trusty old PowerShot G3 was also the first (and last) Thanksgiving we invited Pat’s family to our house and I did the cooking.

Some may argue that having to go back 9 years might seem more like evidence that you can’t cook (especially since no one came back). However, I contend that everything in that meal was delicious, from the assorted cheeses and crudités for starters to the perfectly roasted turkey, to the freshly baked pumpkin pie. Oh, wait, Pat’s mom made the pie. And probably the stuffing. Pat made the mashed potatoes. But I, and I alone, made the turkey, the gravy, the green bean casserole, the vegetables, and the sweet potatoes.

Huh.

Funny thing . . . I just realized I really did just heat all the ingredients. Don’t tell Pat.

As I was looking at the photos, I recall seeing a show on photographing food. I believe it was actually a show on careers and the career was “food make up artist.”

The food make up artist demonstrated making a fast food burger look good. It was quite clever. She was required to use the same portion of food as is actually used to make the product we buy. However,she kept the burger looking huge by simply searing it just long enough to turn it brown, but not cooking away the fat, keeping it from shrinking. Then, she split it in the back so she could spread the burger out to fill out the front. By shooting at a low angle from the front, the burger not only looked bigger, but all the stuff she’d dome to make it look that way was completely out of sight.

Explains a lot about those fast food burgers.

I think my turkey might not look so appealing because it tasted good. To make it really beautiful, it would have had to have been raw inside.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Love Looks

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While processing the photos of my nephew (alias Sam) and his girlfriend (alias Ellie), I sighed and thought “Aww.  Young love!”  But when I flipped through some recent photos of my brother and my sister-in-law a few minutes later, I realized this had nothing to do with age.  My nephew’s face is just a younger version of my brother’s when they are with their respective partners.

It’s an interesting phenomenon.  Sam looks very little like my brother except when he’s around Ellie.  Then, it’s like his dissimilar features mold themselves into a shape that exactly resembles my brother’s face.  Who knew that falling in love could be hereditary?

But shooting both Ellie and Sam with one small strobe on an umbrella stand and in the confines of the family room proved to be challenging.

First, there was the issue of light.  Lighting one person is much easier than lighting two when there’s only one light.  Getting light on Ellie, sitting furthest from the light, was quite difficult.

This led to the second challenge, depth of field.  Opening up the aperture to try to overcome the shortage of light led to a very shallow depth of field, which led to portraits of one subject with another person in the frame instead of portraits of two people.  However, I still like some of the resulting images.

The need to shut the aperture down a bit to increase the depth of field to get Ellie and Same both in focus increased the problem created by the third challenge.  Because we of where Sam and Ellie were, traffic kept moving in and out of the room behind them.  Of course, some of the best expressions on their faces were in the shots with people behind them.  This led to extensive use of the “blur” brush to reduce the distracting background.  I am not fond of doing that much editing, but it’s my nephew.

It occurs to me that perhaps it would be easier if I could shoot in the same environment more than one time.  It’s hard to master something when there are so many variables changing each time.  But then again, it’s the variables that make it fun.

I think about photographers who have marks on the floor and who have their subjects go through a formula of poses.  I suppose this would be extremely efficient and may even help guarantee that the subject gets a decent portrait, but I don’t know how the photographer keeps from getting so bored s/he stops paying attention.  And what happens if someone comes in who just looks horrible in that particular set of poses?  Do they have formulas for such variables?

If there’s one lesson I’m sure of, I have a hard time paying attention to all the details when I feel rushed.  I guess I need to find someone who really wants to model for me.  And then, I need to take my time.  What’s that old expression?  Haste makes waste?