My Dirty Secret-I’m in Love with My IPhone

I am in love with my new Iphone. I resisted it at first, not wanting to join the ranks of the hipsters and the “normals”. But a girl can only resist for so long. And once that sucker became affordable, Biceps and I snatched up an Iphone for each of us, while we were out on tour. It didn’t take but a minute and we traded in our “smart phones” for something so much smarter.
It was almost too easy. Which made made me think.
Just what were these Apple people up to? I mean, I caved years ago and bought a MacBook, yes. But, why is everything so freaking awesome on the iphone? Why does it make photos look so cool?
Was it a ploy to get me away from my $1500 camera that I pinched pennies to buy?
See for yourself.

The subject matter is cute, don’t get me wrong. But, the photo of Bicep’s at the Firemen’s Chili Feed is so normal, so ho-hum.

 

And one boring photo turned vintage, retro awesome. I mean, seriously, Apple people. What are you going to do next-invent holograms?
Oh, you’ve already done that. Hm….I stand corrected.

It’s Obviously Thanksgiving

For those of you strapped to your computers, stranded out of town, lacking a family, or could use a break from your family or are just bored to tears as the men watch football-here is your rest. Land here on this page, brew some tea, grab a fuzzy blanket and let me tell you a little story that most of you may not know.

It’s a story about a normal girl (me) that came from a not-so-normal family. They tried their best to make me not-so-normal, too. But they did not succeed. I am the only normal one left.

Here’s proof as to what I am talking about. I was diligently setting up my camera for our annual lame Thanksgiving photo op. Diligently asking myself, do I use flash or will that be too harsh? Will dad squint his eyes? Will Biceps ham it up?

Yes, on all accounts. This photo stinks. Let’s try again.

Biceps receives a positive reaction from the crowd. This only encourages him, folks. Let’s try it again.

Dad thinks we need to move whatever this was. I am loosing them. Let’s try it again.

Now is the time for baby brother and Biceps to have a conversation. Now, right now. What is so important? “Which was better, Duck Hunt or Spy Hunter?”. Yes, very important.
And, so once more we try.

Ah, getting there. I even made it into the photo before the self-timer went off. But, bleck. I am shadowing Biceps terribly. Try again.

But, this seems so boring. So, not us. Forget it, I give up. I am just as weird as the rest of my family. I will admit it! I too am not-so-normal. Let’s just have fun, instead.

I didn’t stand a chance in my normal world.

And so this is where my story ends. I tried, really tried hard to be normal. But, like so many things in life-the sins of the father….

Happy Thanksgiving. From my weird family to yours.

The Chicken Man

I shared with you just a few days back about The Chicken Lady that I met while doing research for the article I wrote called, Urban Chicken Farming, for This Land Press. I met several urban chicken farmers inside of Tulsa’s city limits and began to understand the movement to raise one’s own chickens within the city.

This man lives just a few blocks from me, so I biked over to interview and photograph him. He thought I was “pretty green” for doing so. In reality, I felt like a little exercise and I hate driving if I don’t have to.

The hens roamed the entirety of the back yard, but escaped to the coop at night to steer clear of any potential predator’s mouths. What are they-chicken or something? Heh heh.

The chicks clucked around, avoiding surly confrontations with the cats, the dogs, bees or anything else this man had going on in his backyard. It was a real zoo.

Raisins treats allowed me to get up close and personal with this golden lady. So pretty. So clucky. So demanding of the raisins.

After a couple minutes interviewing the Chicken Man, he offered me some eggs to go. I cooked a couple up for lunch, shocked by the color deep orange color of the yolks. These backyard eggs were different than any store-bought-even the organic, cage-free eggs. And they were tasty. Very tasty.
The odds are that I will be housing some chickens next year. I am slowly becoming more and more a fan of this idea. Now, to I just have to get the neighbor’s dogs on board with this idea….

The Chicken Lady

I recently wrote an article entitled, Urban Chicken Farming, for This Land Press. I met the most amazing urban chicken farmers and discovered why there seemed to be a movement to raise chickens within city limits.

This lovely lady resides in a neighborhood I could only dream of affording, and yet we are connected by a strange love of chickens. She’s named each of her little feathery friends, feeds them treats each day when she gets off work and knows their personalities.

 

She loves to hold her chickens as if they were pets. In fact, they’re so used to being handled, this little chicken lady wasn’t upset that I was all up in her biz-ness.

 

I love how the reptilian claws are attached to the feathered hen. It’s always been a dichotomy of fluffy and scaly to me.

 

According to the chicken’s owner, this is the most photogenic of the hens. I have a feeling this wasn’t the chicken’s first photo shoot…
After a couple of hours spent talking about the benefits and the superior taste of one’s own fresh eggs, along with the companionship the brood provides, it’s no wonder this chicken owner is enthusiastic about her pet of choice. She’s embraced the title of “Urban Chicken Farmer”.
Who knows-I may just be next.