September of 1991.  Almost 19 years.  9,688,896 minutes... that's how much life I've lived with this stupid alarm clock.  It's not fancy by today's standards... no CD player, no gently crashing wave alarm sounds that make you have to go to the bathroom, no iPod/iPhone hook-up.  The radio barely works anymore... and only gets some random opera music station [playing in the background as I type this].  The minute button is hard to press and you have to angle your finger just right to get it to work.  It just tells time.  And it's been doing it for appx 9,688,896 minutes. How many other things do I have that I can say are still (quasi) working after that long?  None.  And to boot it only cost about $25 when I bought it. The alarm clock's been relegated to guest room duties since I got married, and tonight I dusted it off as I cleaned the room in preparation for Kylie's parents coming to visit later this week.  It's missing the battery door on the bottom, so it's got one sharp corner that has started scratching the wood in the night stand it sits on any time it gets moved, and for that reason I decided tonight it's time to send it on to it's un-glorious final resting place. Here's the thing, though; as ridiculous as it sounds, I got a bit sentimental for a few minutes tonight thinking about this clock (hence the photo) and reminiscing about all the things that have happened - good and bad - in my life over the last almost 19 years.  How many things have come and gone, been celebrated and mourned, friends made and relationships faded, etc over the course of 9,688,896 minutes?    This clock has been with me for over half my life, and that's pretty amazing to me.  And in a weird way - and maybe this is the soft opera music getting to me in the background - it's a little sad to see it go because it's one of the few things I've had for a long time and consequently feels like I'm letting a little piece of my past go.  This silly little inanimate object has taken on tangible meaning for me.  I guess I equate it to a Toy Story movie waiting to happen, except Woody is replaced by this dumb, no-name digital alarm clock.  [NOTE: if you see any movies about sentimental alarm clocks as the main characters come out in the next couple years, you heard it here first... and I expect a big, fat royalty check.] I think back to all the late nights I crawled into bed and just stared at the red numbers, unable to fall asleep for awhile in thinking about all the things still to be done and things that would never get 'done'.  And then I was reminded of these words from the song "When There's No One's Around" by Garth Brooks (well, his remake of it):  "It's 4 in the mornin', I'm lyin' in bed.  A tape of my failures playin' inside my head.  It's heart aches and hard knocks and things I don't know.  I listen and I wonder where will it go."  I love that song becuase the message is about who we are - the good and the bad - when no one else is around.  And this clock has seen it all.

Wow, it's late, and I better wrap up this post before I start talkin' about how this clock made me who I am today.  (The opera music is definitely gettin' to me now.)  So long, no-iPodin', no CD playin', no wave soundin', no minute buttonin', opera musicin' alarm clock.  Hope you've enjoyed the ride.  Let's see what the next 9,688,896 minutes brings.  Check back July of 2029 for an update.

I was sitting inside working in my office yesterday when Kylie strolled in from walking the dog with the neighbors and casually said, "Storm's roling in... you're missing the clouds.  There's good light out there, but you better hurry; it's starting to sprinkle."  In about 11 seconds, before my chair stopped completely spinning, I was outside with camera in hand.  You've heard of storm chasers?  I was light chasing. She was right.  There was good light out there.  And those clouds were ridiculous.  I took a couple images before the weather completely turned, and here's 2 of my favorites.  These are HDR (High Dynamic Range) images, and you can see a tutorial I posted about how I create them here.

My mom recently went through and cleaned out an old storage unit, and tucked away in a little baggy was my first pair of shoes.  (Everyone say it with me now... awwwwwww!)  Not exactly Air Jordan's, no hip colors, and for the love of clowns they have bells on them (what was I, a cat toy?), but they're still my first pair of treads, and they made me just a little warm and fuzzy on the inside as soon as I saw them because I instantly remembered the [Olan Mills?] 8x10 photo of me wearing them 37 years ago. Another gem found from the storage unit was a baby blue knit cap I wore during that first year as well.  I don't have a photo of it (yet), but it's become my lucky editing hat over the last two days.  I feel more creative when it's on my head, even though the straps that once tied under my chin to keep it on now barely make it down to my ears.  I'm sure I look ultra masculine and generally fantastic in it, and somehow that makes working on photos in Photochop more pleasant.

Here's my super sophisticated, completely proprietary lighting set up for the above images.  The secret ingredient is the artist Pino coffee table book under the elegant aluminum foil sheet... sure you could use any book, but I like to think his amazing painting works help reflect just a little better light quality.  You know, through osmosis or something.

Last week I was at a photography session downtown in Deep Ellum during the middle of the day, and I was leaning up against a telephone pole to take an image.  Just before I moved on to the next spot I turned to catch a glimpse of said pole and my "cool image radar" went balistic.  There were thousands of staples near eye level in this pole where I'm guessing lots of band gigs, for sale items and lost puppy notices were once posted.  Life was announced around this pole.  And now that all the paper was removed, the way the bright sun revealed all the grit, texture and shadows was pretty sweet. Art is everywhere.

Kylie and I took a day and headed out to Fossil Rim Wildife Center in Glen Rose, TX on Thursday.  If you can't get to Africa, this is the next best stop for seeing herds of animals - some which are on the endangered species list - roaming free.  You can even feed the animals from your car, although per park rules only the giraffes are allowed to poke their heads in your car and eat from your hand... all the other animals are more proned to biting or eating your hand. It's a pretty cool gig, and would be a great thing to do with kiddos, animal lovers, or occasionally immature adults like me.  As evidenced by some of the images below, you get an up close and personal look at animals you'd likely never otherwise see.  So close, in fact, that you'll quickly notice that some could use some mouthwash.  On the way home we stopped in at Hammonds BBQ for dinner, and lemme tell ya, this place had the. best. homemade. cobbler. everrrrr.  I love hometown places like this, and this one deserves to be on Drive-Ins, Diners and Dives.  Between the cobbler, the BBQ brisket, BBQ turkey, the potato salad, the delish green beans, the Texas Toast and the bucket of lemonade I had, I was in a food-induced blissful coma by the time I rolled out the door.  If I had to guess, I'm pretty sure I surpassed my 1800 calories/day goal by the 6th bite. Here's a few images from our new animal friends from Fossil Rim.

I asked where Bambi was.  No response.

Of all the animals we saw that day, the ostriches and the emu's freaked me out the most.  Something about them just looks a little untrustworthy... like they were going to peck my eye out at the first available opportunity.

Would you trust this bird?  Me thinks not.

Waiting for us to throw him some tasty magic food pellets.

This place was HUGE.  Here's a small section from an overlook as we were driving through.

The only animals contained by fences we the rhonos and the cheetahs... for obvious reasons.  Without the fences, the cheetahs might eradicate the rest of the animal population, and the rhinos might change your SUV to a compact convertible by the time you leave.

The actor Abe Vigoda (from the 70's TV sitcom Barney Miller) and the Emu below... related?  You be the judge.

Oh give me a home where the wildebeest roam... (your welcome for the little jingle in your head)