Gone Country

My Mom and Step-Father, Steve recently closed on a 1960′s dump of a property in New Ulm, TX.  The wooded eight-and-a-half acres with trails and two lakes are absolutely amazing.  The house?  Needs A LOT of work.  But Mom and Steve are into that sort of thing and the pair are currently up there remodeling the whole joint.

I’d been feeling pretty sick the last few days and almost considered cancelling today’s preplanned “Betty and the Bear” shoot and overall photographic christening of the entire property.  But I figured if I could just get my butt out there, some fresh air would do me good and I could direct my focus on shooting instead of feeling cruddy.  It totally worked.

Road Trip to Nowhere

Since all the health issues have taken over my life, I haven’t been able to do much in the photography department.  I crave photo shoots the way some people crave chocolate as a replacement for therapy.  I’ve also been craving a road trip.  Not necessarily anything long or extreme, per say.  Just one of those moods where all you want to do is get in your car and drive with no purpose.  Which is exactly what my Betty and the Bear shooting partner, Kramer and I did on Saturday (with the lovely company of my photography loving wife, Rhonda, as well).  Kramer and I had some B&tB shooting to do as well as some personal projects to work on.  Rhonda has a shiny new Canon DSLR that’s she’s still learning and she has an incredible eye for scenery.  Plus, she lets me put her in fun outfits and humors me when I need an extra model.

We grabbed some props, a few clothing options, some snacks, and our camera gear; and we hit the road.  No destination in mind.  We just picked out a highway and a direction and went where the universe took us.  Apparently the universe liked Peach Creek and Downtown Cleveland.

*You can view Rhonda’s set here.


“Twilight Epiphany”

Artist, James Turrell recently graced Houston’s Rice University campus with one of his incredible installations.  “Twilight Epiphany,” Turrell’s 73rd skyspace, is acoustically sound and programmed for light shows.  Glenda, Michelle, Rhonda and I went to check it out just after sunrise on Saturday.  SweetArtInstallationSerotoninSqueeFest!  It is my third and favorite Turrell installation to have experienced.  And I cannot wait to go back again for one of the sunset performances.

Photo by Rhonda Rubin
Frame the Sky
Bathed in Turrell filtered light.

                           Elation                                                            Joy

Rabbit Hole
Photo by Glenda Sims
Photo by Glenda Sims
Besties: Michelle, Glenda, Rhonda

Something Happy

Many weeks ago Rhonda and I met up with some family in Bellville to play in the country for a day. It was awesome. I have a whole post about it in my head. This photo is going to sit here until I can get to that post. Because it cracks me up. And makes me all warm and fuzzy. Plus this is generally such a silly place… not a stressed out one.

My mom and that goat look like they’re ready to run away together.  I think they could be very happy.  At least until the bag of carrots runs out…

Macawwwwwwwwww… That Sucks.

I saw these guys and immediately flipped my shit because I thought that maybe they were paid by the Naples Zoo to pass out free Fruit Loops to us patrons.  And then Rhonda was all, “You moron, you’re thinking of a toucan.”  And then I was sad because I was dumb AND I still didn’t have any Fruit Loops.

“Have you met my friend, Paul? This is Paul. What’s that? Oh, yeah, yeah, he always looks like that. Hasn’t touched a single drug in his life though, can you believe it? I know. He looks stoned. But I promise he isn’t! Uncanny, right? Well here you are. Like I said, this is Paul and I’m Merve. I’ve been told I talk a lot. Oh, hey, listen to me going on… would you like a frothy beverage or a dehydrated peanut or something? I’d offer you a Fruit Loop but I’m not a toucan.”

More from our trip to Florida to come.

Still Wondering if She Had Insanely Awesome Gaydar or Simply Dumb Luck

Last Friday as I trotted up the steps to the Museum of Natural Science to purchase a membership (to be given as a gift), I noticed a group of six-ish college age kids handing something out to passersby.  They certainly didn’t work for the museum.  And they didn’t seem to be pushing religious pamphlets or flyers for the new taco place around the corner.  Just as I was getting really curious, a girl approached me with a giant grin and handed me this:

But apparently I DO need candy canes.

Sweet.  Candy from strangers!


And Not One Person Offered to Beat Me Up

Per my previous post and my self congratulatory smart-ass ensemble: Nothing happened.  At least not to me.  I don’t think a single person (with exception to my escorts) noticed the fact that I was rockin’ a near-naked Daniel Radcliffe ever so delicately plastered across my chest.  See?  I even took a crappy picture for you guys:

Team Gryffindor!

And to add insult to injury, it appears that the one and only Bloggess MAJORLY out-staged me in the “let’s make fun of the crazy, teenage Twilight fans” category.  That’s fine.  She deserves to win because she’s clearly more dedicated to the cause than me.  Also, I think she’s fabulous.

But!  Did she get a front row seat to a Twi-hard fight before the movie?  I THINK NOT.  Reader’s Digest version:  Some tweens in matching Breaking Dawn outfits got their seats stolen by some bitches who didn’t even bother to dress up for one of the greatest moments in cinematic history, which eventually ended in police escort and applause.  I had an unobstructed view of the whole thing.  It was like watching the Sharks fight the Jets but with less musical entertainment and Latin flair, and with more grammatically incorrect, teenage girl screeching.  Before the five cops came in (yeah, FIVE), there was first an usher.   And then another two ushers with the manager (that’s three ushers, a manager, and five cops… bitches be crazy).  Fortunately, justice was properly served and the Twi-hards got to see the movie.  Which is more than fair considering how ridiculous they looked in their outfits.  I tried to snap a photo of the fight so I could be all, “Yeah!  Lookit this shit goin’ down!”  The quality of which is crappier than my iron-on shirt design and it really doesn’t capture the essence I was going for (cat fight!).  But whatever, here it is:

Do you see the police officer? Do you see anything else? Because I can’t… Well, except for those things that look like lit up Twizzlers.  And now I want a Twizzler.  That glows in the dark.  Somebody get on that.  Ravers everywhere will make it a billion dollar industry.  Wait.  Do ravers still exist or am I the only person left on the planet that enjoys watching people on XTC spin around to techno music and repurpose highlighters into sensory objects?  Yeah?  Just me?  Okay then.


Insert Teenage Girl Squealing Here

So, I got persuaded at gunpoint talked into attending the midnight release of the latest film in the Twilight saga.  And if we’re being honest here, I’m actually pretty excited about it.  The social experiment nerd in me is all over the whole shrieking teenage girls and angsty pre-teen boys phenomena that surrounds the Twilight enterprise.  I feel like I’m about to get on a ride at Universal Studios where the passengers are taken on a journey through this crazy, hormonal, Brittney Spears perfume smelling, loud, giggling, excitable atmosphere that reminds us a little bit about what we were like when we were their age.  There’s something about the excitement of it all that I’m attracted to and I feel like this may be one of the best people watching experiences of my life.

But because I’m me and and me is a bit of a poke the crazy fans with a stick pain-in-the-ass, I’m going to be wearing this shirt design (that I just created and will be ironing onto a shirt when I get home. I didn’t buy it anywhere and I don’t plan to sell any, so please PR people for Daniel Radcliffe, Harry Potter and Equus don’t come after me… it’s just a one-night joke):

Team Jacob? Team Edward? Hell, no!  Team Harry Potter!

I’m sorry Taylor Lautner, but if I’m going to stare at a (contractually obligated) half naked man, I’m into nerds with ponies… not wolves with a stage five clinger complex.