Christmas Photo Fun

It's Christmas in Florida, not exactly a winter wonderland. In fact the mercury didn't dip below 70 degrees for Christmas and its eve. So I decided to have a little fun taking pictures of a few decorations and ornaments...

















I didn't use the flash on any of these shots, just turned up the ISO to 800.











Also, I used a tripod and the timer setting on the camera. This eliminated any blur.
















































For these last couple I used a technique called bokeh. I focused in on a figurine and had the tree in the background. Using a quick paper cut-out over the lens created the heart shape effect on the lights.

Pay the man!

“Pay the man!” That’s what Deion Sanders said in reference to Joshua Cribbs performance in the first half of the Cleveland/Pittsburgh games last night.
“He’s only making $600,000 a year. Pay the man!”
For some reason that statement didn’t sit well with me as I brushed my teeth and watched the halftime report on NFL Network. I’m sure Cribbs is one darn good athlete, heck he's been on my fantasy team several times. He can run and throw and catch and puts up decent stats. I don’t want to take anything away from the young man. Sure there is the question of his contract with the Browns.
But Neon Deion Sanders on the other hand? I actually found him to be an entertaining analyst for the NFL. Sure his insight isn’t the greatest (He claimed my Dolphins would be fighting for the first round pick this year, yet they are actually fighting to get into the playoffs), but he is entertaining. That is up until that comment last night. Is this really what he thinks the fans want to hear? That some player making six figures deserves more?
Maybe Deion should step out of his mansion in Texas and take a look at the world around him. Maybe he should step into the local unemployment office and look at the people who would be happy to make $600,000 over the next 20 years. Maybe Deion, and his like, need to step away from their compounds and enter the gates of the Dallas/Fort Worth National Cemetery and stand by while a mother and her children lay to rest a husband/father who sacrificed his life for $34,000 and a belief in freedom.
Now I know that we have to be cool and have our little catch phrases and maybe this year’s phase is “Pay the man!” And I might have dismissed this as Neon Deion trying to flash once more, but at the end of the report Marshall Faulk jumped in and used the phase asking Deion “Who hasn’t paid the man?” I think Faulk is a pretty darn good analyst and I usually enjoy his perspective on the game. But to join in and ask the question as a form of entertaining the American public was ludicrous.
Maybe this is just a sign that the NFL truly doesn’t understand the fans who make football the sport it is in America.
Or maybe it is America spitting in its own eye. Sports players continue to make hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars while the men and women of our armed forces make considerably less.
This, of course, is nothing new. The argument of movie stars and athletes riches versus the salaries that cops, nurses, teachers, and firefighters make has been made before. And it has bothered me before as well, but I guess I just never heard an athlete come out and say that an organization needs to “pay the man” because he’s only making over half a million dollars a year.
I guess what I’d like to see is if anyone is getting paid around here it is the American public in the form of respect. Pay some respect Deion and retire that ridiculous phrase and don’t rub in the fact that somebody who isn’t fighting to make minimum wage to put food on the table for his/her children makes $600,000 and should get more because he can entertain. Don’t ask America to pity Cribbs for making 12 times the median income.
Pay some respect!

One Fish, Two Fish, Redfish, Bluefish: The Old Man and the Bay

The jolt through the line was unmistakable.
"Reel it up!" my Dad said.
I cranked on the handled and retrieved a small fish out of the churning olive green water.
My dad held the line in front of me and the fish twisted and flipped on the end of the hook. "That's a littler snapper," he said.
My five year old heart pounded as we stood on the bridge in the Keys and I was hooked.

Thirty some years have passed since that earliest memory of fishing with Dad. There were many trips early on and more fond experiences, but now neither one of us has a boat and it had been a couple of years easy since we last soaked a line together.
My brother and I haven't fished together since double that easily and the three of us probably not since we lived in Homestead together 19 years ago.

So for Dad's 60th I figured what better way to spend it than the three of us on the water again. I got a hold of Capt. Goeff Page and after a laborious schedule matching with my brother and I a date was set.

Of course Dec. 2nd would have to have a 60% chance of rain and wind expected at 30+ mph, but still Capt. Geoff said we could have luck if we get out early. Considering that Capt. Geoff has made quite the name for himself doing what he does I put my faith in his judgment. And it paid off!

We slipped into Joe Bay and it didn't take long to see why Capt. Geoff picked this spot.


First cast and my brother, Chris (AKA Weasel) had a fish to the boat.


And then another.

Dad chipped in with a catfish.

And I with a flounder.


Capt. Geoff was pretty impressed with Chris's hot hand and joked about teaming up for the Redfish Cup.




Chris definitely had the hot hand for the reds.



Dad was the only one putting bluefish in the boat. He landed three or four like this.







Dad and his two sons enjoying the water.





I was a short but productive trip. We probably boated 10 reds, 3-4 blues, 3-4 trout a flounder, and a bunch of other stuff. We lost a bit more. All but one blue were caught on artificials. It should be noted that even though Chris put on a good show it was Dad who caught the slam: catfish, jack, ladyfish. A trash can slam!
Happy Birthday Dad!

Thanks, but no thanks! - Dealing with rejection.

So my main hobby (wish it was my career) is writing. I wrote and self-published a novel and it did okay. The main reason it was self-published is because of the 30 query letters/e-mails I sent out to agents none came back wanting to represent me. Of those that did respond it was usually a form letter the gist of which said Thanks, but no thanks.
Years ago my wife gave me an article that talked about how tough it was to get published, but not to fret Grisham's first novel "A Time to Kill" was rejected by 30 agents before it was picked up (I still have that article).
Once again I'm trying to find an agent for my latest novel and once again I have received a few rejections. And just like last time I'm keeping them all.
Instead of getting down it just fuels me more. One day it will be my name in an article and my book that too many agents passed over. And I'll have all the rejections letters/e-mails and the last laugh.
The best way to deal with rejection is not to let it beat you down. You need to use it as fuel to say "Okay, if that's what you think I'll show you." Then you go out and get better and stronger and they'll be the ones with the second thoughts.

Shutterbug Junkie?

Well if you haven't noticed from my earlier posts I kinda like taking pictures. The wife says I'm addicted (just like I'm addicted to all of my hobbies). so for this post I've decided to post random shots I've taken over the last couple of months. I hope you can see the beauty that I see...

"I Will Kill You!"

Most people will never have those words directed at them in the manner in which harm is intended. But day in and day out that and worse is spewed towards Corrections Officers; in a lot of cases multiple times a day.

Imagine willingly locking yourself inside a building furnished with concrete and steel surrounded by deviants whom sit around all day plotting their next crime, which could include smashing your skull in or driving a pencil, spoon, or a piece of scrap metal into your spleen. And when you’re not the subject of their threats your spouse and children are; the threat of someone killing you quickly becomes welcome.

For the general public the closest thing I can imagine is driving down the highway while all the other drivers suffer from road rage. Now make that drive for 12 hours.

Well, at least we get paid.

Love, the Fountain of Youth

I rolled over to see my wife lying on her side. I could tell from her breathing she was awake, so I snuggled up behind her.
“I’m almost 40,” she says defeated.
“No, you’re almost 36,” I said and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Today is her 35th birthday. She looks great and in my mind she looks no different then she did 17 years ago when we first started dating.
“Close enough, might as well start making funeral arrangements.”
I chuckle and she asks what.
“You remind me of Billy Crystal in ‘City Slickers’.”
“Or Meg Ryan in ‘When Harry Met Sally’,” she counters.
“Yes, or that. You’re 35, no where near dead.”
Today is her birthday, October 25. And she is as lovely as she has ever been.
I think of myself and picture 24-25 year old. I’m not getting any older, so neither is she, right?
We get up and go find our girls making birthday cards. My joints pop with each movement and my elbow has been hurting for a month now. She tells me I need to get a cortisone shot and in my head that’s what old people do when they can’t heal. Are we getting that old?
No, we’re just getting close enough to that age we can see it on the horizon and I think it scares us.
But I look at her and she’s no older then the day I asked her to marry me.
My aches make me feel old. Watching my kids grow makes me feel old. But growing along her side makes time stand still. As long as she is with me I will always be young and I hope she feels that way too.
Happy Birthday, Baby!

Shred some Foam - Homemade Skimboards.

My nephews are into all kinds of sports and in turn like to decorate their room as such. Well, one of the things they are into is skimboarding. When I was a kid down in Homestead we used to make our own out of plywood, so when their mom asked me if I'd do some custom paint on a couple she bought I figured I'd do better and make them.

So here's the deal, since they're going on the wall you want to use luan plywood, thin and light. The quickest way to get your template? We bought a skimboard, traced the outline on the luan, and of course returned the skimboard. Hey, sometimes it pays to be lazy!


Jigsaw works just fine on these.



For the tail I used a scroll saw. You can use the jigsaw just as easy, but I've got a scroll saw and wanted to play a little.


You want to be as close as possible to your line, but don't worry if it's a little wavy, luan sands real easy so you can knock those out.


I started out using the airbrush, but that became too time consuming.


So I opted for the good old original, spray paint.


The finished projects focused around their names. I then painted and drew in various surf brand names and symbols to try and make them look authentic.
The boys seemed pretty stoked (I think they still use that) and they should look good hanging on the wall. The boards that is.