The Lesson of the Purple House

Every day for almost seven years I would drive by a purple house on my way to work - not a muted purple, but a vibrant purple that would be banned by covenant restriction in any subdivision in the lower 48.  In Alaska bush communities it is fairly common for folks to paint their houses outrageous colors - sunshine yellows, fluorescent greens and other colors rarely seen outside of the fishing tackle aisle, even purple.  When there was no wind, the purple house was perfectly reflected in the water, and as a photographer, I always thought what a great picture it would make, and for those seven years I always promised myself I would stop and take that picture, and share it with the world.

One day someone bought that little purple house, and perhaps not realizing how special it was, they painted it . . . tan.  It still reflects perfectly in the water when there is no wind, but all I see is a missed opportunity that will never happen again.

So my friends, I urge you to take those opportunities you take for granted.  Tell your parents you love them, spend some time making your dog feel special, and stop and take that photo of whatever your version of a purple house may be, because all good things come to an end.

After a couple year hiatus, I think I am back blogging.  I know all my links are terribly outdated, and eventually I will fix all that and more.  I started blogging in 2007 to keep in touch with my Dad, and eventually made a lot of great friends all over the world.  To those friends, I hope the last two years have treated you kindly; to my Dad, I hope you are looking down and smiling . . . .

I Was Waiting for a Really Good Reason . . .

 Let me tell you, the easiest thing in the world is to not blog.  You have to be in a certain frame of mind, and you need some spare time, a fact I was reminded of just now as I waited 20 minutes for these two photos to upload at our abysmal island internet speeds.  You also need a good reason to invest the time.  Last month Goldfish and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary, and instead of the latest digital device, I wanted something that symbolized love - married love, through thick and thin.  Enter Bob Carey and The Tutu Project.  Bob's wife Linda has been battling breast cancer off and on for the past nine years, and as a professional photographer and a devoted husband, Bob used his talents to do the one thing that was most important to him - make his wife smile.

The result is a collection of photos of Bob in a tutu in the most unlikeliest of places, a collection that Bob is self-publishing this fall in Ballerina, the book.  The net proceeds of the book sales will directly to breast cancer organizations such as Cancercare.org and the Beth Israel Department of Integrative Medicine Fund.  You can support Bob's project in a number of ways - purchase a limited edition 20 x 24 print of your favorite tutu photo like I did (I chose Times Square because of the wonderful times Goldfish and I had there on vacation), purchase a copy of the book, buy a t-shirt, or just make a cash donation to a great cause.  Also, for my fellow bloggers I encourage you to mention the Tutu Project on your blogs, and follow it on Facebook.  Google the Tutu Project and read some of the press.  It will make you smile.

Bob's love for his wife is inspiring - I would like to think I would put on a pink tutu and take a self-photo in a public place to make Goldfish smile if she needed badly needed cheering up.  I've come to realize that in this life the most valuable thing you can give the ones you love is your time and talents . . . so after you visit Bob's website, and like his project on Facebook, maybe make a donation, find a loved one and make them feel special.

Cheers - I have more to blog - next up will be pictures from a wine/food pairing we attended Saturday.  And then maybe I'll slowly try to post snippets of the last year, and explore where my mind and camera have been . . . .

Hello There . . . .

 It has been a very long time since I blogged anything, and the words are not exactly flowing now.  While the season has passed from summer to fall, it has seemed like my life has been on hold, a Groundhog Day cycle of working and watching Goldfish and being careful not to bump the nose of a dog who is no longer there when I reach down in the mornings to pull open my sock drawer.  Chico was not just a good dog, he was the best dog. 

In the picture above is Lacey, short for a very long papered name that has "Lace" in it somewhere.  Tonight will be Lacey's second night in our home.  The photo does not convey how tiny she is, just 13 pounds at 14 months old.  She is also a good dog, and last night she slept in the living room with her long delicate nose quite safe from my early morning fumblings with my sock drawer. 

 I have sort of finished the fridge project as seen by the before and after above.  I tore the built in shelving to the left of the pantry cupboard out and rebuilt it 6 inches thinner to accomodate the new fridge.  All the new electrical and plumbing and drywall and painting to make that happen does not really show, which I guess is the whole point.  I just need to cut down and reinstall the cupboard above the fridge, taking 6 inches off the height, and I'll be done.  Goldfish's Mom is flying out for a visit in November, so I'll try to have that done before she gets here.

I turned another year older this month, so I threw a party and had a bunch of friends over.  Not everyone has a fog machine at their birthday, but that is just how I roll.  I hope getting a quick post out will prime the pump, and I can start blogging again, because there sure is an interesting island out there that deserves comment, and I need to pay closer attention.  Cheers folks, and happy fall . . . . .

Tremendous Joy and Crushing Sadness