Photography Places

Market Day

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Sleepless night followed by glorious dawn. Market day!

Farmer’s Market is a carefully controlled and monitored open market where farmer’s can bring their goods and sell direct to the public. Here is where you can get the best of California produce, all in season all guaranteed absolutely fresh.

Today, strawberries and asparagus were big items, as were navel oranges. The mushrooms looked good, too, and I grabbed some shiitake for a rice dish tonight. Rumor has it Morels will be out next week, and I’m contemplating making a mushroom soufflé with cranberry coulis.

My favorite olive bread was sold out — bummer! However, I picked up a nice sour dough round. And to feed the soul, flowers.


People Weblogging


Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I was catching up on all my weblog reading when I noticed the photos of dishwashing aids at Mr. Delacour’s home. At first, I didn’t think anything of it until I realized that the photos were taken by Jeff Cheney here in San Francisco. In fact, there’s a good chance I’ve passed these same little scrubbers in my own Safeway trips.

And then it hit me — not only is weblogging changing the way we write, it’s changing the way we behave.

Think about it. Jeff reads Jonathon’s posting on Dishmatiques, notices something similar at his local store, captures said images with a digital camera to forward to Jonathon. We as webloggers see nothing out of the ordinary in this.

However, to the average Man or Woman on the street, here is this guy with a camera standing in the middle of a Safeway store taking photos of scrubbing brushes. To them, this is not normal behavior. Not even in San Francisco.

Continuing this same theme: How many of us go out for a dinner, movie, walk, or trip and come rushing home at the end of the experience knocking kid and cat out of the way so that we can get to our computers and record the event?

Now confess, when you’re out and about in your “day life”, don’t you find yourself reacting to events throughout the day with thoughts about how you’re going to write about said event in your weblog?

How many of us own a weblogging related mug? How many of us have our own little Cafe Press stores featuring our own little *weblogging mugs?

Then there’s weblog speak, such as:

“Oh yeah? Well Dvorak’s your mother!”

“Wear that dress and you’ll get a lot of buzz.”

“Come on, baby. Link to me!”

I was talking to my ex-husband on the phone, jabbering on about this weblogger and that weblogger and dropping terms such as blogging, buzz, Daypop, and Google, when I realized that Rob had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.

I was no longer speaking English.

One day people will be able to pick webloggers out in a crowd because we all share the burden of the Weblogger Mark — looking deep into the eyes of a friend or loved one while saying the deceptively simple words designed to lure them into the silken threads of the trap:

“You should get a weblog, you’ll really have fun.”

We’re a virus, and there’s no cure.

*BTW, anyone want a Burningbird weblogging mug?

Just Shelley

Decisions decisions

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

There is nothing more implacable than a decision waiting to be made.

It can shake you out of sleep, pulling the covers off, forcing you out of bed and to your feet. It can hover around you during your waking hours, beating at you with tiny, subliminal fists of frustration.

As time passes the decision grows and swells and bulges and puffs out and enlarges and stretches and expands. Your attempts to fend it off become weaker as it smothers you in it’s soft folds, pushes you against the wall, rolls over you as you try to run.

Poets write of Decision. In The Road Not Taken Frost wrote:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler

The poem ends with “…and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

In this poem Frost sees Decision as noble — Man choosing to follow his own path rather than following the crowd. Compare this to Dorothy Parker’s caustic and brutally direct ‘Resumé:

Razors pain you; Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give;
Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

No nobility here — life as a lesser of evils.

Not all decisions are the same. Whether to choose strawberry ice cream or chocolate is but a moment’s thought; after all, one can choose chocolate tomorrow when choosing strawberry today. There are an infinite number of these decisions made in a life; exercise to keep your decision making capabilities from getting flabby from disuse.

Some decisions can only be made after sleepless nights and days spent in thought, little scales in your mind working overtime. To have a child or not. To marry or not. To make this move, buy this house, take this job, follow this path. Or not.

Regardless of the magnitude or its impact, once the the decision is made, you’re free of the weight, the monster has rolled on. This leaves plenty of room for Decision’s younger brother, Regret.