No Exceptions

I’ve alluded to this idea before, but to put it in more general terms,  no matter what you tell yourself or others, when something happens significantly more often than it doesn’t, it’s the rule, not the exception.

A Family Business

The other day Lala looked over and saw a van advertising a “Father and Son Cleaners,” which prompted her to turn to me and ask, “But what if you need a daughter cleaned?”

“Then you go to someone else,” I told her.  “Particularly in this economy, specialization can be the key to success . . . provided, of course, that you don’t overspecialize yourself into a niece market.”

Status For 7/27/12

Not as good as last time (the little one had a particularly rough night last night, and brought me along for the ride), but still pretty good.

Wrapped up my second complete story on the webpage, and my update schedule is becoming an even more comfortable part of my routine even with all the last-minute changes I felt impelled to make on this one.

You see the theory is that I have these stories ready to post before I actually start posting them, but in practice, even under the best of circumstances, there are little formatting changes and the like that I end up doing along the way.  This time around I made a lot of last-minute tweaks, and this wasn’t always easy with a 20-month old bouncing around on my foot, but I got them done anyway.

It wasn’t an experience I would care to repeat anytime soon though, so the next story is going to get an even more extra-thorough going over before I start posting it on the 7th.  I console myself with the thought that finding time to write and edit will get easier on me again as time goes by.

In another ten to fifteen years, granted, but that’s still something to look forward to.

A Model Photographer

While yesterday I went for the obvious joke, today I want to say that what truly amuses me about my photographer friend’s first semi-nude photo shoot is just how much it flies into the face of the stereotypes of the photography/modeling world.

The stereotype:  All photographers are . . . overeager (to put it politely) to get their models to remove their clothing.

The truth in this case:  Not only had my friend actually turned down two prior model requests for nude shoots, citing his lack of experience with such things, he snapped at one model for automatically (and somewhat snottily) providing her rates for nude shoots via the introduction of, “And to answer your next question . . .” when that was most decidedly not the next question.

So in other words, his agreeing to do a semi-nude shoot was a big deal for him, and despite his love of the female form, it was difficult for him at times.

For instance, whenever the model removed or replaced her top, he averted his eyes because that’s what his sense of politeness told him was appropriate, and the fact that he took approximately 150 pictures of her not wearing said top didn’t change that sense for him at all, which I find as amusing as it is endearing.

So this candle is for him, for that, and for understanding why I felt perfectly free to make a joke at his expense without consulting him, but felt the need to ask his permission before I said something nice.

The Model Seemed Less Than Pleased Though

A photographer friend of mine just recently completed his first semi-nude photo shoot, something he’s been dreading as much as he’s been anticipating.  Despite all of his fears, everything went fine, and the pictures turned out great!

You can’t even tell he wasn’t wearing pants when he took them.  (1)

***

(1) Do I really need to specify here that I’m kidding?

Well . . . That’s What *I* Would Say, And That Was The Question

This one’s from a while back, but I’ve been saving it for a day like today when I needed something lighthearted:

“So this girl looks amazing,” Lala tells me.  “But she’s going on about how much weight she needs to lose, so I tell her she looks great as is.  She smiles at that, then tells me, ‘Thanks, but you don’t see me naked.’  What do you say to something like that?”

“Challenge accepted,” I replied.

A Moment Of Silence

In the wake of any senseless tragedy, there is always a sense of shock and loss, and the more senseless the tragedy, the farther those ripples of shock and loss are felt.

To all those touched, directly or indirectly, by the latest occurrence of senseless tragedy, this candle is for you.

But To Each Their Own

Occasionally I’m approached by someone about my writings and informed, “I really liked this story,” which is always nice to hear.  Sometimes however, this is followed up with a usually vaguely apologetic, “Now, this other story, no so much . . .”  This is, of course, less nice to hear.

But it’s understandable, and so long as it’s said politely, I never take offense.  Even among my favorite authors, there’s not one among them that I think wrote the perfect story for my tastes every time.  For instance, despite my admiration for Arthur Conan Doyle, I’ve read works of his that just didn’t work for me.  This doesn’t lessen my admiration for him in the slightest.

Mind you, if given the opportunity to speak with the man, that’s not what I would choose to discuss with him.

La, La, La. La, La, La. Karate Song!

While I approve of the message I keep seeing from various children’s programs of “Sometimes just talking with/befriending the bully will stop them from being a bully,” I’ve yet to see a children’s show that gives any advice on what to do if talking doesn’t work.

I Would Never Even TRY To Make This Stuff Up

So now that I am largely recovered from yesterday, I have a brief followup to Monday’s thoughts about what is and is not “deserved.”  When the concept is looked at dispassionately, it proves to be a much slippery thing than angry people generally want to believe when they use it in their fury, of that much at least I am sure.

The lizard just wanted to be in a comfortable place when he crawled into the dryer, just like a frog might venture out on a dark and rainy night just for the sheer joy of the experience.  It just seems . . . overly harsh to me to say that death is a “deserved” consequence for something so understandable.

Mind you, like the frog who ventured out in front of my tires Monday night discovered, it can still be a consequence.

Sorry about that, little guy.