The Best of Friends

Signe has several good friends, but she and Grace have an uncanny connection.  They just get each other.  There is no other way to describe it.  I think it's great. . . and I keep trying to capture their friendship in a photo.  I am not sure I am successful, but I know I will keep on trying.

Cute & Capable

I have the best babysitter.  My girls LOVE her. . . I love her.  I have written about her before. Unfortunately she is turning 18 this year and going off to college.  That is very bad. . . at least for me.  For fun one day right before Christmas she had me take pictures of her and her friend (she is the blonde one).  The light was crappy and it was foggy--REALLY foggy, and getting both foggier and darker by the minute.  But none-the-less, I think they turned out cute.

We will be very sad to see her go. . .

The Magic of light. . . and a Good Subject

Have I mentioned lately that I love where I live?

Last summer when our good friends were visiting we took them to dinner at a place on the river just as the sun was sinking low in the sky.  The sail boats were magnificent.

The light would reflect off their sails and create a golden glow around the boats.

I got a little carried away and took A LOT of pictures of the sailboats.

Rob was particularly impressed with the Swedish sailboat that went by.

And I couldn't resist taking a few shots of their kids with the river for a backdrop and sun backlighting them.

But with kids that cute and scenery that pretty it's almost like cheating.

Documentation. . . Or maybe Obsession.

Have I ever mentioned that I am the sixth child of eight children.  The youngest girl of three girls.  My mother was very busy.  She sewed us clothing and made fabulous home cooked meals.  She even got up at the crack of dawn to make cookies for our lunches.

I remember lots about growing up, but it isn't because I have loads of pictures to flip through and reminisce over.    

My baby book is essentially empty.  

I was a darn cute baby too--I know because I have at least five pictures of me by the time I turned five.    

I think I might be over compensating a little. . .

  Or maybe my kids are just photogenic. . . 

Or maybe I have a problem. . . 

 I am addicted to taking pictures. . .  

When I watch my kids, every other thought is, "Wait don't move. . .oh, do that again so I can take a picture of it!"

  Needless to say, I have a lot of pictures of them. . .

 . . . and lots of other people's kid for that matter. Like the cute boy next door who is one day younger than my oldest. . . and her first kiss (they were three--I have a picture of it!)

 Which is sort of why I started this blog.   I felt bad that my pictures were just sitting in a file somewhere on my computer. (I am NOT a scrapbooker). 

 And later when the girls are older and dating I can use these pictures as evidence, or threats, or something.  At least a good chuckle occasionally.   And reminisce about how cute they used to be.   

Fun With My New Lens. . .

After at least two years of indecision, I finally narrowed down the list of lenses I wanted to a couple.  First on the list was the Canon 50mm f/1.4.  Luckily, Santa came through for me.  So I immediately set about snapping pictures of everything. The day after Christmas we had lunch out and I whipped out my camera to take advantage of the light streaming in the windows.

The girls are used to posing for me.  Sometimes they even ask for their picture to be taken. . .

Hannah is generally a good sport about it.

Signe, on the other hand, could go either way.  One minute she is asking--begging--me to take her picture. . .

The next minute she has had enough.  This either become a grumpy face, a hidden face, or a silly face. . .

But I can usually talk her into smiling again. . .

But if I can't, I just take pictures of whatever is near by.  Like Hannah's food. . .

. . . or my drink. . .

. . .or the cute 50's diner stools. . . and when I accidently get a picture of a man in the background, I apologize and explain I wasn't taking his picture. . .just the stools. . .

But apparently he wanted his picture taken. . . so I complied.

Too bad the best picture I took was of a man I don't know, rather than of my own child.  Oh well.  Practice is bound to make perfect, right?