I smell smoke. There’s different kinds of smoke, as I’m sure you all know. Charcoal smoke, cigarette smoke, campfire smoke, etc. Then there’s housefire smoke. That’s what we smelled. Since it was strong, we went outside to investigate. Que the ‘holy shit’ moment at seeing flames beyond the buildings next to ours. Something to note: flames are often more far away than they appear. As in, we thought it was just a couple houses over, not three blocks. Walking outside again, we get this view from just across our street.
Of course, that photo was taken before the billowing smoke really got ahold of the neighborhood. That part wasn’t long in coming, that’s for sure.

The smoke was so thick in the neighborhood that you had trouble seeing what houses were what and what street you were on. A fog of smoke, really.

Nathan also insisted that we broke a cardinal rule of suspense/horror movies by going toward the scene of shit going down. I explained that it wasn’t aliens or UFO’s or mysterious holes in the ground. He didn’t buy it.

But I don’t think firefighters look like aliens, not in the least.

Though, apparently, the lights on the ladders and trucks they use could be construed as alien-like in origin.

According to Nathan.

Not me.

The Union Leader has an ongoing story about the fire at their website.

Donations for the fire victims can be sent to:
Greater Manchester Red Cross
1800 Elm St
Manchester, NH 03104

Thought I have the entire set from today here and I love many of the shots, many, here’s some I particularly hearted:

view from the causeway

another view from the causeway

looking back towards where the causeway was

buffalo on a hill

two buffalo on top of a hill, check out the sign on the bottom left of the photo

So yeah, much fun was had.

We followed this trailer for awhile, giggling madly.

Now, if you don’t get why we were giggling madly, here’s a zoom-in—

Yes. That biker painted on the back is flipping everyone off.

Hell. Yeah.

Blackmail =)

O_O

I immediately try and think of things I might’ve done that could’ve been recorded in some way that would lead to someone blackmailing me.

Sadly, I came up with nothing.

My hopes still up, I opened up the email and discovered this—

And what’d I do? I posted it on my blog. Yeah. That’s right.

And to our luck, we were in Boston and not Mudville, and the Red Sox scored six runs in the bottom of the first inning. One of the scorekeepers got bored and peeked out—

And our ADD poster boy Manny pulled another I gotta wee while no one’s looking trick.

But I went camera-snap-happy and have a gallery of 190 freaking photos..

What an awesome day, though. I love baseball.

Maybe it’s the fear of not exactly knowing how to capture myself. I can certainly capture other people, places, animals, things, whatever. But myself? It’s a scary and difficult capture. Another part of it is that shallow human being inside of most folks that thinks oh my god, do I look that bad? And another part is well, who the hell am I?

But does anyone know themself that well?

Dunno.

Recently I came into the possession of several hats and shot a bunch of photos (see Badass!Hat entry for part of that shoot) and a great deal of them were of me.

Of all of them, the Badass!hat ones were the easiest because I was playing a part. I was being a badass, and as much as I’d like to claim otherwise, I’m not a badass. Badass, by the way, is a really fun word to say, right up there among smock and scowl.

I’m me, whoever that is.

So I play with the camera, trying to mess with its mind (I’m sure it has one), playing all these different parts, but I’m not certain that any one of them is actually me.

I can stare the camera down:

—but when I look at it, I’m thinking You can see my scalp!” not that I’m going bald, it’s a bad gel choice on my part. But I think it anyway.

I can glare at the camera:

—but due to the depth of field of the shot (f/2.8 fellow photo geeks), my head looks detached from the rest of my body (and sometimes, I’d love for it to be so).

Or I wear a hat and hide my face:

—and think “Oh my god, are my ears really that small?” They are, by the way, there’s no denying that. My sister says that they haven’t grown since I was two.

Or I might grin and bear it:

—and think that I look like I am incredibly concerned that the camera pointed at me is going to rip my ears off the moment that I blink.

Or I can tell the camera to get the fuck away:

—and yet still think “Wow, I really need to stop picking at my thumbs.”

I could also subtly tell the camera off:

—but question whether or not I’ve got a double chin. “OMG, do I?”

Try for a look at me! pose:

—and wonder “Do I look like a cancer patient?” (I’m not, by the way.)

I could try lost in thought:

—but that’s an awfully white arm right there and my camera-shutter-trip-bitch has focused on my hand for some odd reason (you can see the focusing error in the larger size).

An attempt at a generic pose:

—but clearly, you can see exactly what I’m thinking. “Camera-shutter-trip-bitch, I’ve got a pom-pom on my head.”

Or I could finally deem to smile:

—and be told “Oh, you have such a cute smile.” No I don’t. And one of my eyes looks wonky.

And by the end, I’ve had it:

—oh, and camera-shutter-trip-bitch, you lied when you said my hair looked fine. And holy shit, maybe I am going bald.

I’m not sure any of those are me.

I’ve got one photograph that I actually see as me. This is me:

—I’m a little kid, five or six or seven, lost in thought. The shot uses natural light, something I use so much in my own photography. This is the one photo I have of me that makes me think, “Hey, that’s me.” But I obviously didn’t shoot that photo.

Now, this isn’t about finding myself, that’s an entirely different train of thought. It’s about somehow being able to capture myself in the ways that I can capture other people.

Where do I find myself in a camera?

However, I do not own said hat. We found it in the West Point PX and while we took photos of me wearing it, we did not purchase said hat.

Since then, another like it has not been found.

Yet we’ve found another Badass!Hat nonetheless. It is not red and fuzzy, it is pink and terry.

And I purchased said hat because I will not let another Badass!Hat pass me by.

But I need to figure out which photo is the most Badass!—

Pose One:

Pose Two:

Pose Three:

Pose Four:

Pose Five:

Which photo is a worthy successor to the original Badass!Hat?

Self Defeat—

We also had time for me to keep stopping on the way back. So now I’ve got evidence as to why the drive doesn’t suck.

First of all, we get to see Mount Washington—

The first place I pulled over is a small overlook just outside the shopping outlet area offers views like this—

And this—

This too—

…wait, no. That’s just my husband once again wondering why he married a photographer.

But that’s not all!

We keep driving and pass a couple small lakes that tend to have glass for a surface instead of mere water. It’s around sunset, so we’re treated to views like this:

this—

even the leaves on the trees that’ve passed their peak have something to offer.

and post-sunset, there’s still some views left—

…so that’s why we don’t mind driving all that way and back.

Oh, and the wonderful company of my sister. That too.

Here’s the whole set.