Saturday, September 26, 2015

We got up first thing.

At our grandson's soccer game, at the crack of dawn, or, like 8:30 a.m.:

The historian: This is so great.

We're looking east. The sun is up, over the mountains, and shining pretty much straight into our faces. The game is wonderful. The air is perfect. It's early.
A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on
Me: It's wonderful.

The historian: Even being out early in the morning.

Me: No. No, the historian. But it gradually gets better.


After the game, I was planning to go out in the world, all over West Valley City, for a little project I'm working on. I had my camera, my intervalometer, my tripod, my Nemesis Handbag, my iPhone, my laptop, all ready to go.
A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on
A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on
It would just be me and the world and my own mind. And all my gear. And then I was going to go in to my office to work, research, write. But:

Me: (rummaging in my handbag, which seems intent upon my defeat.) Cursing expletive curse words [ < not my actual words]! Where are my cursing keys?


After the shoot:

Me: (looking in the window of my office, like a common creeper:) There you are. (My keys. Sitting like smug bastards on my desk.)

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