Category Archives: From Behind the Lens

Christmas and The American Dream Revisited: Why It’s Okay to Start Shopping Before Pumpkin Carving and Turkey Stuffing

In addition to being a List Lover, I’m also an optimist.  Annoyingly so, I imagine, for most people.  Bad day at work?  At least I have a job.  Crying baby on a plane ride…all the way across the country?  At least the guy next to me didn’t need to use the little white bag shoved in the seat pocket in front of him.  Bad break up?  Those sure do make for good stories later on…  Broken arm?  At least I don’t have gangrene.

I partially blame this optimism on my father.  I was raised by a man whose Go-To question in any crisis was, “Did anyone die?”  So far, the answer has always been “no.”  His reply?  “If this is the worst thing that ever happens to you, you’re in good shape.”  Thanks, dad.

So, in honor of my optimistic spirit and the holiday season, I would like to argue that while Americans can certainly seem overbearing with regards to Christmas preparations, seeing as how they seem to start before Halloween, we’re really not quite as bad as we appear.  Here’s why:

1.  Focus:  In an age where we are constantly bombarded with information in the form of status updates, tweets (limited to 140 characters…sheesh!), and Outlook reminders, it’s clear why we have such short attention spans.  The simple fact that we can sustain interest in something for more than two minutes, much less three months or longer, says volumes about our character as a population.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2.  Heart:  If you’ve seen those Target commercials with the lovely blond in a red jumpsuit steadfastly preparing for her shopping trek, you have a glimpse into the dedication and determination we have when it comes to Christmas shopping.  Anyone who is willing to brave the Christmas crowds donned in sneakers and work out gear simply to allow for quick steps and freer movement (picture 16 bulging shopping bags that need carrying to the car) is a person with heart…not to mention all the good cardio opportunities shopping and standing in line offer.

 

 

 

 

 

3.  Martyrdom:  While our country may be in the red, it’s refreshing to see people willing to camp out on sidewalks in order to be one of the lucky few who get the best gifts at the best deals.  This shows a willingness to suffer for the ones we love.  I mean, really, unless you’re at a Gator tailgate where the nearest air conditioned bathroom is in a fraternity house down the street, why on earth would anyone voluntarily camp out to the extreme of having to use a portapotti?…which brings me to the next item on our list…

 

 

 

 

 

 

4.   Efficiency:  Economic efficiency, that is.  It only makes sense to applaud those who scour the papers and television commercials in search of opportunities to save money.  In today’s society, isn’t it important to save a few bucks where we can?  The answer is yes.  Here’s why…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.  Generosity:  The more we save, the more we are able to give.  Buy One-Get One pajamas?  Score!  Two gifts for my sisters done with money leftover for a Starbucks for me and a pastry for that guy on the street corner who’d probably rather have a beer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And finally,

6.  The American Dream:  The fact that we start shopping for Christmas before Trick or Treaters have even begun to beat on our doors demonstrates one of the primary qualities of what our country is founded on:  Overachievement.  While it can be argued there are many Americans who lack this drive, those individuals who begin the adventure of filling the space in the guest bedroom closet, and ultimately, under the tree, before pumpkins have been carved and turkeys have been stuffed are clearly go-getters.  People have dreams.  A house with a white picket fence.  A new bicycle.  A nice guy with a job, a car, and a sense of humor.  Big dreams.  Those people out and about early on in fall are people who make those dreams happen.  And because of that, those people help make this country great.

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, while many criticize the inching up of Christmas toward summer and those individuals who take part in the pushing forward (or backward, as it may be), I applaud it and them…particularly because I have lived vicariously through them this fall.  My guest bedroom closet?  Filled with rain boots, suitcases, and boxes of grad school essays.  *Sigh*

 

**Photos courtesy of guardian.co.uk, balancelifeskills.com, savagechickens.com, nj.com, socialmediaobservatory.com, and masstransmit.com.

Their Smell, Their Unbridled Enthusiasm for Emptying Their Bladders, and Their Cost: Why Even With All That, Dogs are Still Man’s Best Friend

Dogs.  There is so much to be said about these four legged creatures.  First, they stink.  This is not, of course, their most endearing quality.  (Sadly, even when you bathe them, they only smell lovely for all of about seven minutes.)  Second, the world is their giant bathroom.  While humans traditionally use one place for such necessities, dogs, they don’t mind where it happens.  (I know this from personal experience.  Ever had a puppy?  Oh, they don’t care where they go.  “The kitchen?  Great!  The living room carpet?  Perfect!  Your favorite pair of wedges?  Yes, please!”)  Not only that, but they. are. expensive.  Dog food, chew toys, vet bills, carpet cleaner…the list goes on.  The only difference I can tell from kids and dogs is that dogs don’t need to go to college.  That’ll save a chunk of change, for sure.  Everything else?  It all comes out just about even.

The good news is that dogs totally make up for the above for various other reasons.  They are always happy to see you.  (Whether that’s because they love you or they’re just happy to have something else to sniff, who knows?)  They provide another opportunity to show your team spirit.  (Gator collars, anyone?)  And they’ll eat just about anything.  (Spill some soup on the floor?  The dog will have it cleaned up before you can even turn around to grab the paper towels.  That, might friends, is quite handy.)

I’m not the only one to think dogs are pretty great.  Looka’ here:

“Heaven goes by favor.  If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.” ~Mark Twain

“All his life, he tried to be a good person.  Many times, however, he failed.  For after all, he was only human.  He wasn’t a dog.” ~Charles Schulz

“Just give me a comfortable couch, a dog, a good book, and a woman.  Then if you can get the dog to go somewhere and read the book, I might have a little fun.” ~Groucho Marx

So there.  And now, without further ado, the newest edition to our family, Joe:

Hi New Person.jpgWell, hello there.jpgJoe air walking.JPGJoe as lap dog.JPGThe little sweetheart.JPG

New York: Home of the Buffalo Bills, Some Really Big Lakes, and a Bunch of Future Floridians

New York is not simply filled with bright lights and rude people.  There’s a whole other side to the state, and I am grateful I had the opportunity to see that side on my last visit there.  Sure, the city is fabulous with its iconic landmarks and fancy shopping, but outside the city is where it’s at.  Don’t believe me?  Please see below.  (P.S.  Canada isn’t so bad, either…Thanks for the super fun baseball game!)

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Saint Helena, California 94574: Home of World Famous Wines, Delicious Olive Oil…and My Fabulous Family

Florida is my home, but California is my second home. (So blessed!) Not only is the scenery gorgeous, but they’re Gator fans around, too. Florida. California. It’s all the Gator Nation. Home Sweet Home.

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Iconic Florida: Sun, Sand, Saltwater, and Plastic Pink Flamingos

When you think of Iconic Florida, images of the space shuttle, oranges, and Mickey Mouse may come to mind.  Residents of Florida may also envision Brazillian tourists and Snow Birds clogging up the roads.  When I think of Florida, our beloved beaches come to mind.  Our beaches and plastic, pink birds.  Pretty much like this:

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I like these guys.  I mean, you would never find them in my yard, but they certainly make for good company on early morning sunrise shoots like this one.  There is, of course, a story that goes along with this shoot, but I think I’ll save that for another time.  I will tell you that it does involve a crab, a textbook moonlighting as a hammer, and a few choice words not appropriate for mixed company…

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Key West, Florida: No Need to Leave Home Without Your Walking Shoes and a Boat

Key West.  Home to authors, artists, alcoholics.  A great place to kick back, relax, and take in the sights.  While there isn’t a sweet beach to speak of, the water is warm, the streets are crowded, and the scenery is hot.  I’ll spare you the documented evidence I have of this, but instead, I’ll leave you with these.

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How a Kayak Kicked my Ass: One Girl’s Struggle with Convenience

When a person thinks of a good old ass-kicking, images of Brad Pitt and Edward Norton duking it out in Fight Club may come to mind.  Or maybe Sly Stalone in any of the Rocky movies.  (Having never seen any of the Rocky movies, I’m just guessing.)  Or maybe anything with Steven Seagal or The Rock.   

An Ass Kicker, for sure.

When I Googled (yes, I’m aware that’s not actually a verb) “ass kicking” images, a boot with the toe pointed at a donkey appeared.  Yes.  Apparently Google is as literal as my father.  (“Oh.  When I said 11:00 pm sharp, you thought I meant 11:03 pm?  Well, when I say you’re grounded for two weeks, I mean you’re grounded for 14 days.  Any questions?”) 

Well, speaking from experience, I have had my ass kicked many times.  In sixth grade, Robbie T. kicked my ass in the spelling bee.  I was one word away from the win.  Okay, so maybe I was one word away from the win in my row.  And then Ms. Smith (really, her name was Ms. Smith) asked me to spell “Czechoslovakia.”  (Really the word was “lamppost,” but “Czechoslovakia” sounds better.)  I sadly was not generous enough with the number of consonants necessary for my word, and so Robbie T. kicked my ass.  My ass has also been kicked: in a spin class in college, while attempting to tile my front porch, grilling competitions, paddling up the pass to King’s Landing at Wekiva, and once playing HORSE.  (I tried adding farm animals, but that didn’t help.)  Those of you who know me I’m sure will remind me of all the other times, but for now, let’s just go with that tidy little list.   

Not exactly what mine looked like, but you get the idea…

In all my experiences of having my ass kicked, I’d not once had my ass kicked by a kayak.  Sadly, that has changed.   

I’d been in the market for a kayak for, oh, about a year now.  I’m not usually one for waiting a whole year to ponder a purchase, but when the purchase weighs more than the dog I had growing up as a kid and it won’t fit nicely in the backseat, logistics become an issue. 

Then, on a random Tuesday, I stumbled across the solution to the weight and space issue a traditional kayak comes with.  A two-piece kayak.  A snap together, Tinker Toy, Lincoln Log-like kayak that breaks apart to where even a nice girl with the strength of a 12 year old boy can carry it.  Genius! 

Genius!  Even I can carry this…Or so I thought.

The Decision:  I decided on the two piece kayak versus the standard, non-lego-like model out of necessity because:  a) I don’t know anyone who owns a kayak who actually uses it on a regular basis and wants to go kayaking with me, b) my friends who would like to go kayaking on a regular basis can’t really afford it as a full-time hobby, and c) my friends who can afford kayaking on a regular basis would rather spend their time in the A/C watching poker tournaments or movies.  I love my friends.  I think I may need some new ones.  Logically thinking, in the meantime, it made sense for me to get the two piece kayak because I wouldn’t have help transporting that big ol’ piece of plastic from the garage to the car and then from the car to the water and then back to the car and garage again.  I’m kinda tired even just thinking about that.   

What my new friends might look like. But with kayaks.

The Purchase: I had my eye on two different ones, one from Store A (LL Bean) and one from Store B (Cabela’s). When I went to buy the kayak last week (I realized summer was passing me by and I better get on it), Store B’s was on sale *and* it seemed to have a better design with two cargo areas, a rod holder, etc. Plus it was yellow…which isn’t my first choice, but I’m a girl so I care about these things, and the LL Bean one was red, and red would probably stress me out…so yellow was better than red.

The bait. At least part of it.  The bane of my existance (or at least my day) is suspiciously absent.

The Homecoming:  So, one day when I came home from work, I found two big boxes on my front porch. I was super excited – as you know, I’ve been waiting a long time to get a kayak (over 365 days!), and it was exciting to finally have it sitting on my front porch. 

I was *so* excited that I dragged the boxes inside and started breaking them open with a kitchen knife while I was still wearing my (super cute) wedges and pencil skirt for work. After awkwardly wrestling with the plastic-wrapped pieces trying to get them out of the boxes the size of five foot,  hefty adolescent boys who will one day play football for the University of Florida, I finally got a clue to kick my shoes off. I put the two pieces of plastic boat on the carpet in the front room of our house and tried to put it together. 

After a few seconds, I came to the conclusion that I’d better read the directions so as not to break the dang thing before I’d had the chance to use it. The directions, of course, were in pictures with minimal words. Great. (Think Ikea directions, but worse.) 

I “threaded” the one side into the other, went to the back, lifted it up, and “Snap!” – it was attached. Awesome. The directions then said to tighten the connection, but not too tight because then something (I clearly forget what it’s called) would probably break. I tried to tighten it, but I’m not super strong and nothing happened. (Thoughts of, “I think it will still float…” and “It could be a good thing I enjoy swimming so much…” ran through my head at that point.) 

The kayak in our front room. I might’ve changed the color of this photo so that you wouldn’t be able to tell the color of the couch (that I’ve had since I was in high school). Hey, what can I say? We tend to keep things around until they die in my family.

My enthusiasm would not be dampened, though! I sat right down in my kayak in my front room on the floor with my bare feet and pencil skirt. I, of course, didn’t have a paddle yet, so I just sat there smiling. Looking directly at my roommate’s golf clubs. Which were firmly planted on land…Clearly not where a kayak fits in best.

Yep. This is pretty much exactly what my view looked like.

(Meanwhile, my cat, who’d quickly disappeared when the box-wrestling was occurring, came around the corner, sniffed the kayak, crawled in with me, and positioned himself right where the fishing rod would go. If only he knew…) 

After looking at my roommate’s clubs and realizing me sitting on the floor in my new kayak was ridiculous, I had a genius idea. I’d make sure it would float in the pond out front!  (I use the word “pond” generously.  If you mentally add the word “retention” in front of “pond,” you will have a good indication of what I’m working with.)  I quickly changed out of my skirt and into some workout clothes…just in case the kayak sank and tried to take me down with it… I got back to the kayak and was about to pick it up when I thought, “No. This is the whole reason I got this kayak. I need to take it apart first, take the pieces outside by the water, and then put it back together again.” 

The Awakening:  That’s when my enthusiasm kicked the bucket. I looked down at the contraptions holding the two pieces together and fear took over. Maybe you think I’m kidding. No. I couldn’t figure out how to separate the two pieces, and I didn’t want to mess with it too much because it specifically said, “Don’t break the thingamajiggies.” (Or whatever they’re called.)

The Thingamajiggies.  That were suspiciously absent in the store photograph.  Sadly intimidating.  This thing has a technical name, I’m sure.  I’ve crafted several non-technical (read: not appropriate for children) names for it recently, and those names seem to describe it quite well.

I sat on the floor and looked at the thingamajiggies. I stood up and opened the (tiny) owner’s manual to see if I could find directions to break the pieces apart. There were directions. The directions? “Follow the directions to assemble kayak, but in reverse order.” Great. Just great. So helpful in this scenario where we have a timid girl with the strength of a celery stick and strong aversion to breaking new toys on the first day of use.  Sure, those directions sound logical, but… I sat on the coffee table, head in my hands, looking at this big yellow contraption on the floor, and I *might’ve* wanted to cry. 

The whole point of the stupid kayak was so that I could take it out on the water myself, and I couldn’t even take the stupid thing apart in the front room of my house. Sad. 

**One pulled pork sandwich and frosty beverage later**

Take out the “root” and you get the idea.

We all walk in the front door, and there’s the kayak in all it’s put-together glory. My heart sinks again as I remember my disappointment earlier. My roommate stoops down, assesses the situation, fiddles with the things, looks at the picture-book posing as a manual, fiddles some more, and then finally breaks the thing apart. We practice about seven times. He’s pleased with the thing. I think I hate it.  

The next day, alone, I fought silently with the kayak again.  Well, silently is an exaggeration.  Four curse words, two broken nails, and one slice of “How many college graduates does it take to dismantle a two-piece kayak?” pie later, the kayak had officially kicked my ass.  For the record, I’ve now practiced the gentle skill of putting the kayak together and taking it apart about fifty-six times.  I think I have it down pat.   

And so, while we certainly had a rocky start, I think the kayak is here to stay.  The big cardboard boxes it came in have found a sweet little corner in the garage just in case.  With people, it’s different.  You know you have a “keeper” when you take off all the fancy packaging, twirl them around, and read the instruction manual a few times.  With boats, well, you just never know. 

 

**Photos courtesy of Cabelas.com, wwe.com, flickr.com, brucesallen.com, thegrowingfoodie.com, and coolthings.com.

 

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A Few More Reasons to Visit Paradise…Andros: Land of the Crabs and Home of the Happy

As if you needed any more reasons to visit Andros…but just in case, here are a few images from my most recent trip to paradise.

 

Pretty perfect, right?  Any questions?

 

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Andros Crab Fest 2012: Food, Fun, and Well, Just About Everything Else but the Kitchen Sink, too…

The Bahamas. A country made up of over 3,000 bits and pieces of land sprinkled North of Cuba and Southeast of Florida. They’re known for many things. Things like giant starfish.

This guy was as big as a globe. He was thrown back about three minutes after this picture.

And adorably kind and funny families.

Brittany, Brandi, BJ, Bradley, and G. The life of the party right there, folks.

And in Andros, they have this little gathering once a year. A little gathering called “Crab Fest.”

Okay, so maybe it's not so little...

Remember those parts in the movie Forrest Gump when they’re talking about all the different kinds of shrimp they can make?  Bubba says, “Anyway, like I was sayin’, shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. Dey’s uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There’s pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that’s about it.”  In Andros, that’s pretty much how they see crab.  And it’s all delicious.

During my visit to Crab Fest, however, one thing kept popping up in my mind.  Every time I’d look around, in any direction, I saw something that made me think: OMG.

There’s a man drinking beer out of a large, empty stewed tomatos can.  OMG.

This stuffed crab (literally) is delicious.  OMG.

There’s a rather large woman wearing a bikini underneath an entire body suit of black lace…leaving not a whole lot to the imagination.  OMG.

That is one of the most adorable babies I’ve ever seen.  OMG.

People bring babies to this event?  OMG.

This Bahamian music makes me want to open a beer and dance.  OMG, how fun!

There are amazingly talented, half-naked male dancers on the stage.  OMG.

Did those amazingly talented, half-naked male dancers really just do that?! OMG.  (Those amazingly talented, half-naked male dancers looked like they were having some X-rated fun with the air.)

And so the night continued.  After about 30 seconds of mentally processing one OMG moment, another one came right along after it.  For a girl who grew up on a farm in the country, that’s one heck of a long night.  While Crab Fest was certainly an experience I’m sure I’ll never forget, I’m thinking once in my lifetime is just about right.

I think I’ll stick with traveling to the Bahamas for all the other reasons I love going there (the people, the fresh conch salad, the Kaliks, the great fishing with great guides, the almost hot-tub-like temperatures of the crystal clear water, the fresh conch salad, the starfish as big as cookie cakes, the traffic-stopping (literally) crab-parades across the streets, the fact that they serve almost anything with grits, the children who look at my long hair as if it’s Christmas, oh, and did I mention the fresh conch salad?)…Yes, I think I’ll stick with those reasons.  For all the other 361 days of the year.

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The Swamp, Our Awesome Alumni, & $600+ Million in Awards Last Year: Why UF Trumps USC’s Cocks, Pork, & Pyrotechnics

My loyalty was challenged this past weekend. You see, my sister just started grad school at the University of South Carolina. I went to visit her, as sisters do when their sisters move to a strange, new place alone. (I am, however, living vicariously through her in this situation. What I would give to be alone some days…Out on the deck, just me, some sweet tea, and that little old lizard doing that thing with his neck. Sweet serenity.)

Sign this girl up!

While I have been to Columbia for away games, I’ve never actually wandered around USC’s campus. You see, their stadium is far, far away (relatively speaking – it’s a hike, even when you’re sober…) from their actual campus.

Trying to find their stadium is a bit like this. (Okay, so that's a *slight* exaggeration.)

While my sister was giving me “the tour,” I was forced to come to terms with a few things. I realized (gasp) UF may not actually be the best in every, single, itty bitty category there is as far as colleges go.

I kid you not. This realization was uncomfortable. I mean, genuinely, sincerely, from the pit of my stomach, uncomfortable. Had I been living a lie all these years? No. But this realization did have me taking inventory.

USC’s “Horseshoe” puts the Plaza of the Americas to shame with its humongous space of soft, green grass and towering Oaks (their campus has about a fifty year head start on ours).  And they’re within biking distance to some of the best barbeque and collards I’ve ever had in my entire life. No, really.

BBQ pulled pork. Served in a paper basket. Add some collards, pepper sauce, and sweet tea. Yet another reason I love the south...

Oh, and they have fireworks at their stadium. (That’s a bit irritating when you’re losing to them in football. It sucks to lose. It sucks to lose even worse when the loss is celebrated by a colorful display of explosive pyrotechnics.) And, *sigh*, they have the Ol’ Ball Coach.  While I whole heartedly like Muschamp (partially because he reminds me of Spurrier – he’s got some visor-throwing abilities, no doubt), I love, like L.O.V.E. love, Spurrier. “Once a Gator, Always a Gator” kept me warm at night this past weekend.

Yeah. I think he can get a little fired up like Spurrier...

That, however, is it. UF ranks superior in every other category I could think of, and then some, I’m sure. Our campus has towering Oaks, too…next to attractively designed buildings, no matter the decade of creation. (On USC’s campus, it’s very apparent which buildings were built in which decade. “And just what geometric shape is that building trying to embody?”) UF’s architecture is classic.

Just one of the many examples...

Our stadium is right on campus, and just one crosswalk away, we have a large selection of bars and restaurants (Dad, don’t mind the order there…). The girls are hotter (and smarter). The boys are smarter (and with Southern accents, they’d be just as hot as those South Carolinian boys).

Packed full of smart, fun, beautiful people.

Not to mention the academics and research. UF and the brilliant people who work and study there are responsible for a rather large (cough, cough) number of discoveries and inventions including big-time cancer research and treatment, alternative energy sources (ethanol, nuclear, and solar energy), and of course, Gatorade. Don’t believe me? UF received over $619 million in research awards for the 2010-2011 year. (My mom and 3rd Dad are responsible for some of that – Love you guys!) Over 600 million bucks? Not bad, if I do say so myself.

My sweet mom and Dad 3 goofing off when they're not in their labs working to make UF even more awesome. Adorable, aren't they? They're even more adorable in person...and when they're looking in the right direction when it comes to picture time...

Our list of alumni is impressive, too.  The inventor of the digital computer (John Atanasoff), best-selling novelists (Michael Connelly, Carl Hiassen, and one day, me, just to name a few), governors (including Bob Graham), two Nobel Prize winners, three NASA astronauts, musicians with voices like honey (Easton Corbin), and dozens of athletes in the pros (Tim Tebow, Jack Youngblood, Emmitt Smith, Andre Caldwell, Jarvis Moss, Fred Taylor…the list goes on, and we haven’t even gotten past football…Oh!  And they’re all smart, too!) are all alumni.  (There are, of course, several UF alum family members of mine (7 people, 8 degrees (B.A.’s, M.A.’s, and M.D.’s)) who are famous for their own reasons…Have you heard my dad’s play by play of his Saturday morning golf games?…)

As if we could have too many pictures of him popping up on this site...

There are about a gazillion other things UF is great for, but I’ll spare you the rest. This is right about the breaking point when my non-Gator loved ones stop reading (Hi Renee! Love you! Please give the little peanut a hug and head-kiss for me!).

My point is, while I had a moment of panic this weekend, it turns out that, yeah, UF’s more awesome. Besides, we have a way better mascot.  As my sister rightly noted, anyone other than a 12 year old boy would rather say, “Go Gators!” than “Go Cocks!”  Just sayin’.

 

**Photos courtesy of ufl.edu, bleacherreport.com, football.ballparks.com, myrecipes.com, kitchengeeking.com, exitofhumanity.com, and floridaadventuring.com.

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