At first I was pretty stoked, I drove 1:45hrs to a shoot. Great to be back in the photo groove again. Still figuring out how to use this new (borrowed) digital camera w/ more bells and whistles...
shot ~700 raw 12meg files. Pooched a number of them. had a real hard time with the controls on the camera. This rig Canon D5 is supposed to be the son or nephew of my EOS 1N. It's the friggin red headed stepchild.
Anyway, got a bunch of good shots of my farmer friend butchering chickens. On the way I stopped at this tony coffee joint where they roast their own beans one at a time etc etc. and the make pretty decent bagels for Saratoga.
I get a ham egg and cheese on an everything bagel. I'm driving along listening to Anita Baker or James Brown and I see they use premade egg patties in their sandwiches. WTF? ok whatever. I'm still in a groove.
While at the farm I'm thinking of skip james's "Hard time killin' floor blues" check cmep3 later
that'd be the music to butcher to I guess.
So I head home at the end of the day and come back to the friggin possum in the trap. He'd been there all day, in the shade. I am not in the mood at this point. I figured I'd just let him go away from the house, since he's sleeping all curled up and comfy and what not. I'd seen enough killing for today.
So I go get the tarp to line the trunk, and I go over to the trap and now he's all snarling and showing his teeth and I'm all "you know, fuck you. I'm not playing that shit. Into the fucking river with you."
Came home, got a raft of shit about how my wife is "off duty"
Give the kids a bath. the millimeter decides she is going to do her Greg Louganis routine off the edge of the bed, ends up looking like friggin Sonny Liston, wailing. The Inch has got his hands clamped over his ears screaimng "I didn't do it, it wasn't my fault!"
The Dowas are off duty so it takes the millimeter a while to settle down, now beet red as well as lumpy around the head.
Everyone settles down, we scarf some nice lentil soup, there is one glass of red wine and a bottle of guiness.
Everyone else is upstairs going to bed.
Apart from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?