Trebuchets and nativity scenes

How, you might ask, would two such things go together?

Well, my sister made a ten-foot trebuchet for a physics class that never really worked right, and I always wanted to go back and fix the somewhat impressive device (that is now up on cinderblocks in my parents' front yard -- we are that kind of redneck, apparently) so I could hurl masses of water balloons at live nativity scenes come Christmas time.

I am so going to Hell.

What brought up that memory was an assignment from a few weeks ago: one of the Mormon churches was putting up a display of more than 500 nativities from all around the world. "Hey, cool," I thought, even though I don't really understand the attraction of erecting small barns that in reality might or might not have been carpeted with afterbirth and hay; "I'll get to meet some Mormons." Because, truth be told, I've run into a couple before, but they were brief encounters of the "here's your frapuccino" variety, and I felt like I've never met a Mormon being, well, Mormon-ly.

To sum up, I'll say this: they were some of the most absurdly nice and polite folks I've met, second only to the Sikh couple I met a month ago.

And they had nativities! Lots of 'em ...

Until someone makes some kind of Harley Davidson-themed nativity scene, the above, a cast-iron piece from one of the local furnaces, Sloss, is perhaps the most badass nativity out there. Even if baby Jesus in his cradle sorta resembles a mortar and pestle.

Anyway, more later.

Because I'll be gone

Going against my normal protocol and posting something a little early here, mostly in apologies that I'll be away from my computer (and work) until this Thursday. Yep, I gotta work on Turkey Day -- sucks, huh? Anyway, as it was observed this morning by the Ed and another Editor, I don't whine. Ever. Maybe I should.

Anyway, against protocol, I'm posting this little tidbit from the series of portraits that'll be running on Sunday. When I won't be here. Sigh. I'll get someone else to hold me a copy of the paper, make sure there's one waiting when I get back.

I changed this to B&W before I got on my little kick, by the way.

So there'll be more later, but for now, I'm gonna head on home to see the much-loved family, euthanize some trees, and maybe eat some guilt-tainted turkey. 'Cause I know I'm gonna catch hell for having to work until Christmas Eve.

Oddly enough, I took some portraits of one Mister Scrooge this morning -- we got along quite easily.

Ciao, y'all.

Walmart doesn't do layaway?

Seems a bit ... wrong, I guess, but Walmart doesn't do layaway anymore. One of the last strongholds of layaway items is Kmart, so I got to go rummage around in the back for a while, looking at all the Christmas toys.There's something about blatant and massive materialism that makes me squirm in a guilty, depressed fashion. I mean, I just felt my heart sink when I was in there, looking at all the toys, thinking about all the little kids who think they really, really, really want Tonka's new Plastic POS Dump Truck. Sigh, just thinking about it right now kind of gets me down. I know -- I'm a terrible American.Since they're one of the last places to do layaway (by the by: it's getting harder and harder to pronounce that word in my head), they do a pretty brisk business. All the department heads get into it. They've got a full upstairs storage facility behind the office filled to the brim, and were having to reorganize their storage loft (first picture) when I got there.
Joy Smith was Christmas shopping for her little girls. And apparently, that game, prominently displayed in her hands, is going to be the "big gift" for her eldest daughter. And that picture, in which Joy and aforementioned game are the focal point, ran on the cover of the Money section last week. And I just ruined a Christmas surprise for a little girl.

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch ...

High school volleyball

Never shot volleyball before, so I didn't really know what to expect, but it was kind of fun after a while. When I shoot football, it feels a little tedious, but volleyball just seemed to be a constant go-go-go, so it was more exciting. My issues: how do I get faces when I'm having to shoot through a net; jeez, it's so bleeding dark; and hooo-boy, those are some skimpy shorts and these girls are too young ... well, most of them were ...

It was fun, but I feel like I got the same photo over and over with different people. If I had a three or four hundred and a monopod, I would have sat/stood in the stands and shot above the net, just for something different.

One thing to another

Friday morning was interesting. Started off with some portraits on the south side of town, nothing too special, and I won't publish 'em here because I don't think the story's run yet. But then I got called to a drug bust ... heard it was big, okay, I'm headed over, Boss, no problem ... howdy mister policemen, how you guys doing today, what's going on ... yeah, late last night, undercover agents ... 1 million dollars in marijuana ... wait, what? Apparently, that's what $65,000 worth of drying pot looks like. How it smelled was something *completely* different.
The Mother Plant.Couldn't get my white balance to work out right, for some reason. But look at all the pot.

Really intricate hydroponics system, too, and a computerized daytime/nighttime set-up to boot. Apparently, they've been cranking out $1 million worth of pot each year for the past three years or so. I'm strategically staying away from the discussion of, "but is pot really all that dangerous" because I'm not for arguments right now. Just chill out, man. I'd giggle, but you wouldn't hear it ...
___
And then I bounced straight from the potted plant (harhar) to an elementary school, Phillips Academy, in Birmingham that, despite the fact it only opened a year ago, scored in the top fourth in testing.
Young 'uns in math class.
Oh, so that's why they did well. They're actually interested in this stuff. Young 'uns in reading and language arts class.
Back in the land of numbers and figures ... they aren't too fond of me there, by the way.

I do enjoy working around kids. It's like the whole thing with older dogs and puppies, I think, where they all make me feel a little younger, a little more jovial, and a little more energetic.

Ha, this one little girl whispered at me, "excuse me, are you a professional photographer?" and I shrugged, grinned and said, "well, I try to be." Yeah, anecdotal stuff, but it makes the world a good place to live.

Quick upload

The capture of an escaped prisoner, a portrait of a financial advisor, hummingbirds, and a parachute team. In that order.

Not my best "pictures" week, but it certainly was interesting. And I'm learning stuff. Need to work more on strobe, obviously.

Pandering

... from dictionary.com ...

• pander: (pān'dər); to act as a go-between or liaison in sexual intrigues; function as a procurer/ to cater to the lower tastes and desires of others or exploit their weaknesses

... which is exactly what I'm about to do ...

God, I feel like a dirty paparazzo. Dempsey with the Hyper Sport team watching his teammates win a race.

Pander, pander, pander ...

Pander, pander, pander ...

Celebrating the win at the winners' circle ...

Good lord ... I think I need to take a shower. Well, here's one from pit row that'll more than likely never be seen because of the above photos. Anyway ...

A crew member stands by, waiting for the team car to pull in for refueling.

Yeah, so I'll be posting more stuff later, but there's your "People Magazine" post. Use it for all it's worth -- it's the only one you'll get, you dirty monkeys.

Muumil

That's as close as I can get in English to the Arabic pronunciation for "bored." I'm at work, and I did some running around this morning, but nothing really panned out -- the tennis camp for early this morning got pushed back a week, the Mohawk grant for the Coosa Valley Technical College Literacy Council was a five-minute, in-and-shake-and-smile-and-out affair, and today wasn't a good day to do a video piece on the New Echota historic site, apparently. So, by noon, pretty much everything had fallen down, gone boom.

I even went out on a whim to shoot a soccer camp, but they were already getting ready to call it a morning. I might have something for later -- a local abandoned plant of some kind near my house that is getting torn down very slowly by, like, two crews of guys. But there might be some legal ramification BS if I go shoot ... but hell with 'em, I'll probably do it anyway. So, yeah, boring day. Not much going on.

Makes me wish the local Kiwanis Club would start a turf war with the Calhoun Optimists.

Oh, and here's something for those of us who enjoy kidding ourselves into believing that the world is not the world we think it is. Just another little site devoted to public delusions, this time specifically for those who enjoy zombie movies.

On an up side, my family went ahead and bought another used car, a Mazda Protege, older model, 5-speed manual, gets about 33 miles to the gallon if you're nice to it, with working air conditioning and radio. The parental figures are refering to it as "Jake's car" though I'm fairly well convinced that it would be better served as "Dad's car" since he drives so much during the week. I've been justifying their rationale with the thought that I'll be on my own in Birmingham, and will be paying for everything and won't be mooching off them for anything. Thus, they still save money.

Yeah, I have a guilty complex when it comes to my parents. Started back when they offered me an extra cookie when I was three. Never got over it.

Screw it, I'm outta here.