Welcome Photo Images

Family Vacation: RV'ing Turned ATV'ing

2009-07-24T11:33:00.044-06:00

RV on Swett Ranch Loop Road - our new homestead

Notice fine print "road NOT maintained for low clearance vehicles"

Swett Ranch Loop Road - 8 miles!

Clara driving the boat on Flaming Gorge

Family vacations are great. They create such memories, and sometimes even family legends that your kids will tell to their kids someday.

We like to travel in our RV. This past week we made a trek to Flaming Gorge, Utah for five days. It was Joy, Clara and myself. Clara's two older brothers are off doing their "thing" so it was just her stuck with her parents in an RV for five days and no internet connection. And, she lost her phone a day before we left so no texting her friends!

But this is the making for a family legend.

We have been in some tight and precarious spots with our RV. I was a novice with an RV when we bought the rig in 2006 and still am only slightly better than a novice now. If you have watched the Robin Williams film RV, that is us. Well, maybe not exactly and to the extent that was depicted in the movie, but close!

I have gone around corners only to have dishes fly out of the cupboards. I even had a jar of spaghetti sauce come sailing out of the cupboard and the spicy red sauce shatter all over the inside of the rig. That took hours to clean up.

I have gotten pretty adept at hooking up the water, sewer and electrical. Normally I can do it in 12 minutes flat. However, once while flushing the "poop" tank, I got distracted and filled the tank to the point it overflowed out the toilet inside the rig. That took hours to clean up.

I came close to high-centering and low-centering the rig on a narrow road in the Smokey Mountains National Park on the 11 mile loop road to Cades Cove. I drove down a road in Tennessee that was so narrow with a rocky cliff on my left and a 30' drop down to the Nolichucky River on my right that one of the dual wheels on the rear was hanging over the edge. In the dark. And we had no choice but to continue because there was absolutely no place to turn around and there was no way I was going to backup the rig on this road for 5 miles....in the dark!

This week in Flaming Gorge we had another "RV story" but this one really tops the others.

I had it under high recommendation from a friend to visit the Swett Ranch while we where at the gorge. We took a drive on our second day to circle around the south end of the gorge, visit the Swett Ranch and go over the Flaming Gorge Dam.

Along the way we found the turnoff for the Swett Ranch. It was a dusty, gravel road but in good shape to accommodate an RV. We drove for about a mile and got to a closed gate with a sign posted "No RV's Beyond this Point." The Swett Ranch was closed for the day.

Since visiting the ranch was not an option, we decided to continue past the ranch road and proceeded along the gravel road knowing that it circled back to the highway. Joy kept insisting the road was paved. I told her to look out the window. The road wasn't paved. So much for her navigation and map reading skills.

As we progressed along, the road got worse. As I said, I have been in a few precarious spots in the RV but this was getting bad. I thought for sure I was going to high-center the rig or rip the top off from the tree branches any moment. If I didn't do one of those things, I certainly was going to break an axle or blow a tire on the spiky rocks below. We would be stuck and I would just have to homestead the property and live out our days there because no one was going to find us.

I was hunched white-knuckled over the steering wheel while Joy and Clara were in the back trying to catch things that were sailing out of the cupboards. Clara heard me swear for the first time in her life as I yelled "oh shit!" while we dipped down into a gully and up the other side. I inched the rig slowly over big boulders, up steep slate-rocked hills and washed out gully beds to finally reach the end of the road and the paved highway.

Once we got out into the parking lot, I got out to the read the signs leading into the road we just came out of. "ATVs and high clearance vehicles only." I pulled up the route we had just taken on my GPS and we traveled 8 miles on this rocky round trip route past Swett Ranch that we never got to visit.

But we made it out unscathed. The Rolling Bounder got us through another circumstance of our own stupidity without a scratch.

But it also created another family legend that will be told around campfires, family reunions and Thanksgiving dinners for years to come. And that makes it all worthwhile!

Cheers,

Dale

Follow You Anywhere

2009-07-07T19:09:00.008-06:00

"End of a Tough Day's Ride"

Last week was my wedding anniversary. Joy and I have been married 25 years. Ironically, our wedding anniversary date was also my final paid day at Intel. I was laid off and am officially unemployed for the first time in my working life. It feels good.

To celebrate, our anniversary that is, we visited Seattle where we met and were married. We also took a side trip to Whidbey Island and a tour through the San Juan Islands. No kids, just Joy and I with our bikes and the RV.

Up until this trip, Joy and I have cycled together exactly three times in twenty five years. The second time was very uneventful, however the first and the third were both quite an adventure.

As I mentioned, Joy and I met and were married in Seattle. We lived there in the early years of our marriage. We had been married less than a year when we decided to go on a small cycling day trip. At the time, neither of us were big cyclists but we were young and thought it would be a good spring afternoon activity to do. However, one minor point that I cannot fail to mention was the fact that Joy was three month's pregnant at the time.

Be that as it may, we were still newlyweds so it didn't matter. Our plan was to drive to the Edmonds - Kingston ferry, ride the ferry with our bikes, cycle to the Hood Canal Bridge, and then return to the ferry and back home. An easy, pleasant afternoon ride.

However, to make this long story a bit shorter, I insisted Joy just "follow me" to take this "shortcut" to find some friends at their condo and ultimately get a ride back to Seattle with them. I thought it was a cool, spontaneous addition to our trip. The two flaws in this plan, well, maybe three flaws, was that it was no shortcut, the route was full of undulating hills, and our friends were not home at their condo. Many, many miles, hills, and a long ride much further than we intended, we ultimately made our way back to Seattle.

Joy has never let me forgot this ride. We never cycled again until a few years ago in Salt Lake City. And I am no slow learner, I made sure the second ride was on flat ground and short.....and that Joy was not pregnant at the time!

Fast forward to last week. We were staying in a little RV park on the north tip of Whidbey Island WA, just south of Deception Pass Bridge that leads north to Anacortes WA. We took our bikes in hopes of taking short cycling trips around the towns and ferries in the San Juan Islands. I googled a short little trip from our departure point to Anacortes and pointed out to Joy it was "just" 7.2 miles via this "shortcut." Joy has learned over the years to never trust what I say. Normally Joy would follow with a brief interrogation challenging my judgement and ability to plan a simple trip but this time quickly acquiesced in agreement and said "that's great."

Off we went. And quickly we took a wrong turn making 7.2 miles into something much further through undulating hills and a Northwest misting rain. I knew I was starting to get into trouble when we were more than half way to Anacortes and Joy informed me she didn't think she would be able to make it back. I reassured her that we needed to make it to town at this point and perhaps we could find a taxi back to the RV. I would have paid anyone any sum just to make sure we would make it back.

But God was looking over us with favor that day. We finally made our way into town (but still 4+ miles from to the center of town) and stopped at a park and ride. Upon studying the bus schedules, we realized there was a bus going into the center of town as well as one that goes directly back to Whidbey Island and our RV park! All for the cost of two dollars.

But here is the total redeeming part. Joy and I took the bus into old town Anacortes. It is a quaint little town with many beautiful shops, galleries and restaurants. After wandering around a bit and feeling relieved we had a plan to get back to the RV without having to ride the entire 12+ miles back, we found this delightful cafe bakery to sit down and have a cup of coffee before going back to the bus stop.

I walked in and thought we just landed in heaven. In the bakery case were the most gigantic cinnamon rolls I had ever seen. Without looking at the menu, I just knew this place served "comfort food" and it had to be good. I asked the waitress for some coffee for Joy and I and then my eyes drooled over the most wonderful-looking Key Lime and Coconut Cream pies I had ever seen. Both of these pies happen to be favorites of ours.

I ordered one slice of each pie along with our coffee. The Key Lime and Coconut Cream pies were the best we ever tasted, they simply were to die for!

I was redeemed! A bus ride back to the RV park, a nice little visit through quaint Anacortes WA, and the best pies we ever tasted!

By the way, if you are ever in Anacortes, La Conner, or Mt. Vernon WA, you have to go have some pie at the Calico Cupboard Cafe & Bakery. Later in our trip we ate lunch at their La Conner location and it was delightful. And a big thank you to the waitresses in both locations as they are so friendly.

You can find the Calico Cupboard Cafe & Bakery on the web at www.calicocupboardcafe.com. Check them out, they are terrific!

Since this day's adventure, Joy has continued to cycle with me. But I follow her rather than vice versa!

Cheers,
Dale

Naked Cowboy

2009-06-26T13:52:00.003-06:00

" Naked Cowboy"

Times Square, New York City

Only in the Big Apple, or Vegas.........

My Bentley

2009-06-02T18:22:00.004-06:00

"1957 Bentley"

I am not a huge car buff. But I do like beautiful cars, particularly older ones that display class and style.

I was walking up Broadway in downtown Portland, OR one evening this April. The evening was just lovely; sun shining, warm air for Portland in April, and the streets were filled with people enjoying a rare moisture-free Oregon evening. I came across this 1957 Bentley parked curbside in front of a little boutique hotel that was holding a formal event. Of course, I talked to the driver and had to take a few photographs. The image above was my favorite.

The limousine company that owns this piece of art is English Classic Limousines (http://www.englishclassiclimos.com/). What an experience to tour the Oregon wine country in a car such as this. And then perhaps go to a dinner and show in downtown Portland. What a lovely date that would be!

What would be your ideal, romantic date? If you are in Portland, perhaps give a call to English Classic Limousines. I am sure they will fix you up.

Cheers,
Dale

Hair on Fire

2009-05-27T18:29:00.003-06:00

"Hair on Fire" Qibao, China

Sometimes a motorcycle ride can put your hair on fire. This woman certainly is a portrait of that image. But when we think of our "hair on fire" on the back of a motorcycle, we have visions of going fast on some mean, screaming machine with a real "need for speed."

This is a man and woman are riding solely for transportation in the streets of Qibao, China, outside of Shanghai. The "hair on fire" of this woman is not from a fast, exciting motorcycle ride but rather just a by-product of a bad hair day at the stylist.

Have you ever had a bad hair day?

Cheers,
Dale

Mellow Yellow

2009-05-26T14:04:00.010-06:00

"Mellow Yellow Bicycle"

I was walking down the street in the city one day and spotted this bicycle. It was this cool yellow, painted with beautiful accents and had a rear wheel cover.

The bicycle was lovely, though not the type for a long bike ride or road race, but rather for a quiet ride through the neighborhood to a friend's house for a glass of iced tea and cookies. Of course, on a sunny summer day with a cool breeze.

I think I will go get some iced tea and cookies and dream of riding through the neighborhood on a bike like this.

What do you like to do on a sunny summer day?

Cheers,

Dale

More In Flight

2009-05-24T13:12:00.002-06:00

Mt. Hood, Oregon

Mt. Hood in Oregon is a stunning sight. I was fortunate to be leaving Portland on business one day and got this view of the mountain out my flight window.

I used to work in a high rise building in Portland years ago and had an office that looked to the east. On clear mornings, the sun would rise in the background of Mt. Hood. In the evenings, the orange sunsets would glow off of the snow cap. It was always an extraordinary sight.

I am so glad I got a window seat this day to catch this view of the mountain and spark memories of all the previous times I have seen Mt. Hood.

What is one of your favorite sights or views that evokes special memories or beauty?

Cheers,
Dale

Portraiture

2009-04-19T16:11:00.003-06:00

"American Patriot"

I have gotten into watching Ovation TV (channel 274 on the Dish Network). Ovation TV covers art, creative design, and photography.

In particular, the channel has some great pieces on photography. There is one "must see" piece called "The Eloquent Nude" on Edward Weston. I learned so much about Weston's life and loved seeing Weston and Ansel Adams carry around 4x5 cameras with their boxes of sheet film.

While watching one photography series on Ovation, I was struck by a piece on Timothy Greenfield-Sanders and his portraiture. The segment showed photographers behind the scenes and exclusive interviews on how they go about their work. Timothy's portraiture is done with an 8x10 view camera and one light. Timothy learned his lighting techniques from Alfred Hitchcock and Hitchcock's lighting director. Not bad teachers! The set up and Greenfield-Sanders technique is very simple but the finished product is stunning.

You can find Timothy Greenfield-Sanders work at http://www.greenfield-sanders.com/

Today's photograph is called "American Patriot" and is taken of a young man from our church who joined the Marines. I wanted the image to be a simple portrait, simple lighting, but yet dramatic. Like Greenfield-Sanders, the pose, the expression, the lighting is all very simple but yet creates a mood and emotion of the subject. I think the portrait evokes an emotion of toughness, sternness, and hardness of a Marine while being in dress uniform.

This portrait had very special meaning to me personally. Kyle, the Marine in the photograph, is someone I have known for most of the past decade as he grew up. Kyle's parents are very good friends. When I took this portrait, Kyle was about to be deployed to Iraq. I had this fear that this portrait would be one of the last photographs taken of him and he would not return from Iraq alive. Fortunately, our prayers where answered as Kyle has returned home and is finishing up his last days as a Marine.

Portraits and those photographs you take of family and friends have such lasting value. It is as if you capture a person's soul as of a point in time. The person will never go back to being the same person at the point that photograph was taken.

Do you have photographs that have this kind of meaning? Who are they of and what do they represent to you?

Cheers,
Dale

A Generational Affair

2009-04-11T12:24:00.004-06:00

As a kid, I wished I paid more attention to my father.

My father was not educated beyond high school but he knew how to fix and build things. My version of fixing things is to tell my wife, Joy, to "call somebody."

My father would try to show me how to do mechanical repairs, electrical or woodworking projects. I never had the time of day for it, thus that intelligence never passed to me. However, while I would never hang around while my father built things for me, I do remember the excitement I felt when it was done. My father made me some really cool stuff. I had the best go-kart in the neighborhood!

Is an older generation making or repairing things for a younger generation universal? Global?

I captured the images above on one of my trips to China in a small village outside of Shanghai. My Chinese driver and friend, Billy, knows I like to go to places off the beaten path to capture photographs of the sites and people of "real" China, not the tourist sites of metropolitan Shanghai (although I have done plenty of that too!).

This little village is called Qibao.

As I walked down the streets of Qibao, I came across this grandpa and father fixing a flat tire on a bike for their two little boys. As grandpa pumped up the tire and father made the final adjustments, the two little boys looked on in anticipation of being able to ride their bike.

I stopped and took many photographs of this generational affair. My presence just heightened the delight and importance for the two boys; a "foreigner" is taking pictures of us! As I took my photographs, a large crowd of locals began to gather around me. This just created even more excitement.

My Chinese is "yi dian", or "very little", so the family or the crowd and I could not communicate verbally but the smiles and energy of my audience said it all. Everyone would erupt with laughter when I would take a few photographs and then show them my digital captures from the back of my camera.

In the end, the boys' bike was fixed by grandpa and father. Now the boys could ride! And ride they did…………to show off for the "foreigner" with the camera!

Do you remember your father, your mother, or one of your grandparents teaching you life skills when you were a child? I hope you didn't blow them off like I did and learned something!

Cheers,
Dale

Oregon Coast

2009-04-07T17:24:00.005-06:00

I am going back to my Oregon theme today. I took heat for my previous blog post on Oregon (see "Five Truths About Oregon" posted on March 30th). While my previous post was written with "tongue in cheek" humor, I was poking a little fun at Oregon and Oregonians. However, those Oregonians take Oregon jokes very personally.

Today's blog post is to portray the beauty of Oregon. My photograph is an early evening capture at Cannon Beach on the Oregon Coast. The sun was setting (though you can never actually see the sun setting in Oregon behind the clouds…..oppps, there I go again!) and there was a slight mist in the air (like there always is in Oregon……oh, slack my hand, I just can't help myself!). The natural colors were not very inviting or dramatic so I planned to put this into black and white when I took the image.

Most of my post-processing was done in Adobe Lightroom with some finishing touches in Adobe CS3 Photoshop. The key post-processing step I took with this capture was to run the "clarity" slider way down to give the image a very soft look. The softness really emphasized the evening light and ever-present mist in the air. I was really pleased with the final result.

I also printed this image on Hahnemuhle Fine Art Photo Rag Satin paper with my Epson R2400 printer. The final print looks spectacular and am looking forward to mounting, matting, and framing the image with a very professional, exhibition quality look.

A few more images like this one and I will need to find someone interested in sponsoring and providing a location for a photographic exhibition. Any offers?

Go visit Cannon Beach, OR. It is a spectacular place and the community is delightful.

Cheers,
Dale

In Flight

2009-04-04T15:16:00.004-06:00

In my day job, I have traveled extensively. At times, I have traveled up to 50% of the time, traveled to many places around the world, and lived in China and India for a brief period. I love to travel to exotic and interesting places. And of course, I bring my camera with me.

Things have changed these days. My career is in transition and I do not travel anywhere to the extent I used to in the past. In fact, I rarely travel now.

However, this past week I had to make a short trip to San Jose, CA. The trip was for business but also allowed me to connect with Kathy Waite, Waite Associates and Adobe, and a high school friend, Cindy Emond Fay, that I hadn't seen in over 33 years. Cindy and I got reconnected on Facebook about a year ago. It was great to see both face-to-face and visit with them for a while.

It is always great to connect with friends and colleagues and my blog post is to share the photographic inspiration I receive from other people.

I met and heard Jay Maisel at NAPP's Photoshop World in Las Vegas in September, 2008. It was the first Photoshop World I have ever attended. It was an awesome event. See my guest blog post regarding Photoshop World at my good friend, Rich Legg's, blog at http://www.leggnet.com/2008/09/photoshop-world-recap-by-dale-welcome.html

Jay's work is inspiring and his words of wisdom are equally so. Read Jay's guest blog post on Scott Kelby's blog http://www.scottkelby.com/blog/2009/archives/3814 . Jay's website can be found at http://jaymaisel.com/ . At Photoshop World, Jay left me with several thoughts:
- You cannot take photographs unless you carry your camera with you - take it with you everywhere
- The best photographs are right behind you - turn around
- Give yourself personal photographic assignment challenges

Jay's words have stuck with me to this day.

The second person that inspired me was Julieanne Kost, Adobe's Chief Photoshop Evangelist. Julieanne's images are amazing and she is also a terrific teacher. I can see why Adobe made her their chief Photoshop evangelist.

You can find Julieanne at http://www.jkost.com/ and http://www.jkost.net/ . Check out her work.

Now, here is the connection with traveling, Jay Maisel and Julieanne Kost. Julieanne has done a series of images taken from the seat of the many, many planes she has been on in her extensive travels. Her book of these images, Windows, is worth checking out. Jay Maisel has inspired me to take my camera everywhere, look behind me and challenge myself photographically. Julieanne's idea of taking photographs from her seat on the plane out the window is a view of the world I had never thought of. I love the great ideas other people have and wish I could think of those things.

My photograph above, In Flight, was taken out of the plane window on my recent trip to California. Normally I get on a plane, turn on my iPod and fall asleep. Now, I get on a plane, turn on my iPod and look out the window. I used to always get an aisle seat. Now I always take the window seat. I took this photograph because I had my camera with me and I looked out the window.

Thank you Jay and Julieanne!

Cheers,
Dale

Five Truths About Oregon

2009-03-30T12:57:00.014-06:00

Only in Portland - A coffee cup stuck in a mirco-beer cup in a bicycle water bottle holder on a bike chained to a tree in downtown Portland.

There are five truths about Oregon. I was reminded of them in a recent trip to Portland and the Oregon coast in my RV.

Truth #1: Oregon is the definition of green.

As I drove down the Columbia Gorge going from the high plains of eastern Oregon into the mouth of the Gorge, the green begins to overwhelmingly emerge and swallows you as progress deeper into the green bowels of the state. It is so GREEN it makes you want to puke.

Truth #2: It always rains in Oregon.

Sometimes you cannot tell its raining, but trust me, it's raining. Then there are times when it is clearly raining. Rain, soggy, wet, moist and mud. Rain is ever-present in Oregon.

Truth #3: Oregonians cycle.

Oregonian cyclists are everywhere. On every street corner, on the shoulders of the roads, in the coffee shop, on MAX..........everywhere. And remember Truth #2.

Truth #4: Micro beer is king.

Oregonians make great micro beer. You will be thrown out of a beer-serving establishment if you say "I'll have a Bud." There are as many choices of micro beers in Oregon as there are combinations to order your latte at Starbucks. Oregonians are probably so good at brewing micro beers because of Truth #2.

Truth #5: Wine is queen.

If micro beer does not cover your alcoholic tastes, Oregon wine will. Oregon makes great wines, particularly pinot noirs. Take a trip down the highway 99W corridor through the Willamette Valley tasting wine and you will see what I mean. Again, this probably has something to do with Truth #2.

Cheers,

Dale

Union Pacific

2009-03-06T17:26:00.002-07:00

There are some brilliant photographers in this world. I am fortune to say I personally know some of them. I love staring at their prints in person far more than gazing at them on the web (though images posted on the web can be stunning too). There is just something about a finely displayed finished piece of work that I love.

I have always been enamored with the idea of managing the entire photographic process from capture to print to mounting for display. With color images, this has not been possible in the past. I could control as much of the process as I could but was handcuffed to sending a file off to the lab to make a print. Even with black and white film, completing the film processing and printing required an expensive and smelly darkroom.

Digital photography has changed all of this. And I love it! I can control the capture of the image in the camera, control the processing in Photoshop, print the image from my computer to a high quality printer, and complete the process of mounting, matting and framing the image exactly the way I want it done all within the cozy confines of my office. All the while, rocking to U2 or Bon Jovi in the background.

Today marks an event I have dreamt about for quite some time. I have completed the missing link to this whole process; printing. For my 50th birthday, my wife Joy, got me an Epson R2400 printer. It's a refurbished model from 2008 but in fine condition. I ran multiple tests, replaced ink cartridges, cleaned printer nozzles, aligned printer heads, bought a couple varieties of paper and printed my first quality print output. In fact, I printed two different images and am thrilled with the results.

I am now in control from capture to display. The first two images are amazing. The color, sharpness, contrast, and impact to the eye of these two images is just stunning.

The "Union Pacific" image above is one image I printed. The second is "Window" taken in downtown Salt Lake City. I am letting both completely set and dry before I mount, matte and frame them.

With my process now complete, I still have much learning to do in the printing process but can't wait to get started. My plans are to begin completing many of my China and India images to make a full fine art gallery collection.

So, rock on U2! It's Friday, the weekend is here, and I am going learn more about fine art printing. I bet your weekend won't be this exciting?

Cheers,
Dale

Shanghai Woman

2009-02-15T17:27:00.001-07:00

In the summer of 2007, my family and I spend an extended period in China, based in Shanghai. Our stay was an extraordinary experience and China is an extraordinary country. We gained many fond memories and friends.

China truly is an incredible country and many of its places, people, sites, beauty, smells and sorrows will remain burned into my heart and mind. This photograph is one of those memories I will never forgot.

I took this image while walking with my family on a pleasant Sunday afternoon on the "The Bund". The Bund is a very westernized part of Shanghai along the Huangpu River with high-end retail stores and expensive, exquisite restaurants. As you walk Shanghai, you are certain to see great wealth, grand architecture, crowds of tourists, and, unfortunately, poverty to levels in which we are not accustomed to in many parts of the Western world.

This woman was asleep on the steps in the heart of The Bund. I captured the image without her knowledge, otherwise, I could have expected strong objection on her part. This image represents to me the dichotomy of Shanghai and China. On the one hand, you have a very wealthy class of people with an economy growing at a unprecedented pace. On the other hand, the image is a stark reminder the country is largely void of a prosperous middle class and exhibits extreme poverty.

It would not be uncommon to see sites as this woman about Shanghai. In fact, often the sights were far worse. There were numerous occasions where we would see an full amputee, no arms or legs, placed on a old piece of cardboard laying on a hot sidewalk in ninety plus temperatures from morning to night begging for money. These sites broke my heart and I just could not bring myself to even take a photograph of such things.

Economic times are tough and these are unprecedented times for us in the West. Many are suffering. You may be one of them. Yet, despite these times we still live in a society of great hope for the future and prosperity.

I need to remind myself that while times are hard, I have a lot to be thankful for.

How about you?

Cheers,
Dale

Watched

2009-02-08T17:16:00.004-07:00

Have you ever felt like you were being watched? In the cool of the evening, walking your dog at dusk and you feel the chill through your senses, that someone is watching you. Or that something is watching.

We are being watched every day. That eye is watching. It watches what you type on your computer. It knows you are surfing this blog. It sees you when you enter your building every day at work. It sees you as you drive down the freeway.

What do you want this eye to know about you, about what you do, or what you think?
What are you proud of? What are you ashamed of? Do you want the eye that is watching to know about you?

Be sure to look over your shoulder, in your rear view mirror, and do not think you are ever alone. Someone is watching.

What is it that is being watched?

Cheers,
Dale

Hope

2009-01-20T12:11:00.000-07:00

Celebration in the hope of a new day.

Lincoln Memorial, Washington DC

Middle School Girls Basketball

2009-01-07T20:02:00.002-07:00

Have you ever watched a middle school girl’s basketball game? Wow, what fun! It is far more entertaining than wasting an afternoon watching those overpaid prima donnas in the NBA any day.

By the way, do you know origins of the meaning of prima donna? It is actually a term used by opera companies referring to the lead female singer, generally a soprano. “Prima donna” in Italian is “first lady” and represented the prime female role. Legendarily, these "prima donnas" (prime donne in Italian) were often regarded as egotistical, unreasonable and irritable, with a rather high opinion of themselves not shared by others. Funny how this term started in use referring to females. Mmmmmh, I guess I will save that for another blog.

The lead man in an opera, usually a tenor, is called the “primo uomo.” “Primo Uomo” in Italian means “first man.” Primo uomo does not seem to have the same kind of connotations or secondary meanings around the term like “prima donnas” when referring to females.

Interesting.

However, let’s get back to girls basketball. These teenage girls just play with reckless abandon, racing up and down the floor, diving for balls, whacking each other, showing brightness of skill and pure relentless determination. The scores are low; there are lots of fouls and traveling calls, and plenty of missed shots. However, there is never a moment where you can expect the unexpected to happen. It is just pure fun to watch.

My daughter, Clara, never touched a basketball until she tried out for the team. Her determination and athletic abilities from soccer got her on the team. However, the coach told her she now needs to learn the play the game. Clara plays basketball like it is soccer; hip-checking, pushing, shoving, and running over people. In two games, she almost fouled out both times. And she played less than half of each of those games! The coach told Clara that if they called everything, she would be out of the game in less than five minutes.

Clara is improving though. She earned a starting position in the next game this coming Saturday and we are proud of her. She just needs to remember not to throw her hips into the other girl to steal the ball.

Whether you have a teenage girl or not, do yourself a favor and just go watch a middle school girl’s basketball game. It will be a treat. You will never go back to watch an NBA game again!

Cheers,
dale

Female Conspiracies

2008-12-30T15:37:00.013-07:00

Have you ever wondered about conspiracies? John F. Kennedy assassination was a conspiracy? Global warming is a fraud? Princess Diana was murdered by the Royal family? 9/11 was planned by the U.S. government? There are dozens of websites on conspiracies. There is a website that has lists of anything you can image. There are lists of bizarre relationships, human sideshow freaks, and of course my all-time favorite, the top 10 most unusual uses of beer. Any Oregonian would obviously know that one top 10 use of beer is to kill slugs. Naturally, there would be a top 10 list of conspiracies. Go to http://listverse.com/miscellaneous/top-10-conspiracy-theories/ to check it out.

There is a conspiracy going on right in my neighborhood. In fact, right in my house. It is a female conspiracy. Men know exactly what I am talking about. Women get together with other women and you have a conspiracy.

Take my wife. That is her on the left in the photo above and with her is our neighbor, Liz. They take routine walks, sometimes have coffee, and work in the kitchen together. Now see what you get......two women getting together and the result is planning a conspiracy. Their routine rendezvous’ are on the premise of walking the dogs, shopping and the like. But look at them in this photo; don’t them look like they are concocting some evil conspiracy? These are not just two women innocently preparing a salad in the kitchen. I am sure these are conspiracy meetings.

I happened to capture this photo of them in the kitchen. It was like one of those paparazzi shots. It seems benign enough. However, do not be fooled. I don’t know what they were talking about, or conspiring about. Look at their eyes. I just know they are crafting some conspiracy and it will be all too clear to me one day. I will blog on it when I discover what the conspiracy was.

When the ladies return from their walks, I will ask what they talked about. “Nothing special” is generally the answer. I might get lucky some days and get briefed on some interesting neighborhood topic. But I know it is just a cover. They never reveal the real topics of their discussions or their conspiracy plans.

Men don’t conspire. Women don’t perspire and men don’t conspire. We are not that smart. For sure, we are not smart enough to out-conspire a woman. However, give us men some credit; we are smart enough to not even try.

What is your favorite conspiracy? Do you have a conspiracy theory? Women, would you care to let us in on any of your conspiracies? Anonymously, of course………….

Cheers,
dale

2009 New Year Resolutions

2008-12-26T17:34:00.004-07:00

I am ready to begin the new year. One of my goals for 2009, in addition to regularly contribute something interesting to this blog, is to work on two photographic projects. I guess these goals are my 2009 New Year resolutions.

My two projects are to assemble and edit photographs from India and China. I have over 5,000 images from these two countries captured during my visits there. My plan is to select, edit and post (and maybe exhibit or publish) my images that document places and people from both of these countries.

China and India are extraordinary places. I hope my images will evoke your emotions, through the medium of photography, to experience the people, the sights, sounds and smells of both of these incredible parts of the world.

The image included in this blog post is of a man plucking feathers from a bird with his teeth in the City Market of Bangalore, India. This capture was taken in October of 2007 during my month long stay in India. I spend one afternoon in the Bangalore City Market and it was an overwhelming experience that overdosed all of my senses.

Would you join me in this wonderful journey? Perhaps you have been to either China or India? Please share your stories!

Cheers and Happy New Year!

dale

Christmas Day

2008-12-25T11:08:00.003-07:00

It certainly is wonderful to have all my family home for Christmas day. After opening presents, we ate crepes au nutella, strawberry jam, powdered sugar, and whipped cream! Yum!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from our home to yours.

Cheers,
dale

Teenage Girl

2008-12-24T14:15:00.005-07:00

Have you been around teenagers much? I mean in this century? Perhaps in this decade, this year? Even in this day and age? And in particular, have you been around teenage girls?

My daughter, bless her heart because really she is a very sweet, smart girl, has left this fifty year old man dazed and confused.

Let’s start with how fourteen year old girls communicate. Do you speak “teenage-eze?” How about “teenage-girl?” Believe me, I speak neither. I gave my daughter and four friends a ride home. In the car, they giggled and gaggled, talked all at the same time, and raced from seemingly one topic to another in nano-seconds streaming all thoughts of consciousness together into run-on sentences, then with one giant simultaneous pause, burst into unified laughter. And then these girls started the process all over again. I had no clue what they were talking about or what was so funny.

Teenage girls text message each other with relentless veracity. These creatures pound out words and messages faster with their thumbs than I can type my name on a normal keyboard. I took typing 101 in high school to learn how to type on what is now an old fashioned and obsolete type-writer. Do they teach “texting 101” in school these days?

I caught my daughter curling her hair in the bathroom one morning while texting her friends at the same time. This is the ultimate multi-tasking. She text messages under the table while sitting at the dinner table (like we are not going to notice….), under her covers while going to bed, and who knows where else. And all of these messages are very private. If you ever try to lean over and sneak a peek, it is like you committed the gravest of privacy invasions!

Is there anyone out there that speaks “teenage-eze?” How about “teenage-girl?” I need help. Please, someone help this dinosaur dad………

Ugly American

2008-12-18T17:18:00.006-07:00

Artist at Montmarte

I am returning from France where I was on a speaking engagement. After a lecture in London earlier in the week, I moved on to Paris to share “my infinite wisdom and knowledge.” It was a very short speech and the quotations are intended to emphasize the inflection of my sarcasm.

It’s a funny thing about teaching or giving lectures. I always learn more than I think I actually teach. I certainly learn from research and preparing my topic. However, speaking opens doors in which people share with me their experiences and knowledge. I walk away feeling that others are far more interesting than me. I get the best end of the bargain because I meet someone terribly interesting I did not know before and learn something new.

While in Paris, I took some personal time to explore and see the sites of city. This was my first time in Paris.

Paris is intoxicating. There is something about the city that makes even the hard-hearted feel romantic and full of love. I never could tell if it was the food, the French language, the sites, the architecture, or an abundance of beautiful women. It probably was a little of each. Nonetheless, Paris makes you believe you are love even if you are traveling alone (though I wished my wife were on the trip to share the city and romance together).

I was extremely apprehensive about traveling to Paris. My high school French had been long forgotten and everyone warned me how the French only speak English if necessary. Americans do not get a warm reception. It probably has a lot to do with the whole “freedom fries” things a few years back. Perhaps it was Lance Armstrong winning the Tour de France seven times and not ever getting caught doping despite best efforts of the French.

Paris is a dichotomy. On the one hand, the city is a magnificent, wonderfully enchanting place. I surely want to go back again. It has an intimate, charming attraction that draws your soul in.

However, I must say despite my best efforts to be very sensitive about not being the “ugly American,” I found myself in a number of circumstances where I really felt the French people were rude.

I hate making generalizations and judging my entire impressions of a city and culture on certain people’s bad behavior. However, the treatment I received on certain occasions left me wondering about this strange dichotomy of Paris.

Let me give you a couple of examples. On Saturday I was free and had two friends map out a route I should take to tour the city, i.e. Musee de Lourve, Tuileries Jardin, Hotel de Ville, Hotel Sully, Plaza de la Vosages, Plaza de la Bastilles, Maison au Victor Hugo, etc. The morning was cold and got worse by noon as it began to rain. I found a cute little café to duck into out of the rain to have some potage français d'oignon, a glass of Bordeaux, and a crepe au nutella assisted with a warm espresso.

Like many cafes, it was busy with people. The very French waiter asked if I was alone and raced off to find me a table. Meanwhile, a French couple came in and the waiter immediately whisked them off to the window table ahead of me to the table he was originally preparing for me. I waited for quite some time until the waiter returned and then he promptly sat me at a table three tables away from the window. The other two tables near the window were empty. I just tried to smile and ignore that inwardly I felt very much mistreated.

Later in the afternoon, I stopped into a pub to warm up and have a pint. This waiter was a bit more gracious as he sat me by the window so I could look out onto the street to watch people walk by. I was feeling good about this experience as my body shivered with cold. The waiter has sat me in a location beneath a heater. I could begin to feel the warmth come back into my body.

The warmth and experience was short-lived. Once the waiter served up my pint, I am convinced he went to the back room and turned off the heater. With the heater, the seating location was delightfully warm. However, the table was by the door. With no heat and the door constantly opening and closing from patrons, the Parisien chill quickly returned. I am convinced the waiter purposely turned the heat off because about halfway through my pint, a French couple was seated next to me. Once they sat down, it was incredibly coincident the heater quickly turned back on.

Paris is like a bad relationship with a beautiful woman. The woman is incredibly beautiful, her looks are mysterious and sexy, her smell is intoxicating, and she has an aura about her that makes you her prisoner.

However, she treats you badly at every turn. Despite her bad behavior, you hang on paralyzed and intrigued by this sensual attraction unable to let go.

After being annoyed and offended by the discrimination I experienced, I decided I would still love Paris and turn the other cheek on some people’s bad behavior. I am sure the French have lots of experiences with obnoxious, uncouth Americans. I just wasn’t one of them!

For me, I decided I could only do my best not to be an annoying or obnoxious American tourist. However, sometimes I found it hard to ignore the poor treatment I received. A little graciousness would go a long way….from both sides.

However, I want to be really clear. Not every French person I met treated me badly or was rude. On the contrary, I met some really great, genuine people in Paris. But it was those experiences that were more frequent occurrences than when I had visited other parts of the world. This left me with a very distinct impression.

I decided much of the circumstances depend on my internal ability to overlook a local cultural “misbehavior” and make the most of things.

So I am going to remain attracted to the sensual, intoxication of Paris and ignore the rest.

Cheers,
dale

Taking a Different Turn

2008-12-10T08:58:00.004-07:00

My body was filled with a chilling cold I just couldn’t shake. I have not slept in over 24 hours except for some mild dosing. I found a fleece blanket in the closet to cover myself as I tried to catch some sleep. Still chilled, I crawled further under the sheets searching for warmth. Slightly drifting off, I would be interrupted again with another round of chilling cold. Once awake, I would get up for another time to adjust the heat in the room. However, I never really could figure out the magical combination on the heating device that would bring in warmth to settle me off to a deep sleep.

Three hours later of rustling under the covers of blankets and seeking to chase the chill away, I finally gave up and decided try a hot shower and head out for a Sunday afternoon walk.

Today’s Sunday walk took a very different turn than usual. Today was a walk through the streets of London and Kensington Garden. My lack of sleep was due to the long flight from Salt Lake City to JFK and across the pond. I never can sleep well on airplanes.

The cold of London pierced me to the bone despite blue skies and sunshine. I hoped my late afternoon walk would help shed this feeling of cold. The moist air of London and its chill brought back memories of the feelings years earlier while on winter afternoon jogs through Seattle’s Green Lake. Same cold, same dampness, same chill to the bone.

I love to people-watch. Sunday afternoon brought all kinds of people out into the streets of London and Kensington Garden. The diversity of the people in London was immediately striking. As I walked along the streets and through the park, I heard more variety of non-English languages spoken in one place than anywhere in the world. In fact, it struck me odd to hear British English spoken as if it was out of context, as if they were in the wrong place.

Multitudes of race and ethnicity were quite prevalent as well to coincide with the Babel of languages. In particular, I noticed many mixed race couples as quite common as I wondered along Gloucester Street.

As I walked and observed people, one thing puzzled me. In America, we are so bent to be proper and ensure everything we say or what we call things is politically correct. A black person is inappropriately called “black,” but instead the politically correct term is “African-American.” Now here is what puzzled me. What do you call a black person in the UK? An “African-Brit?”

I walked along Gloucester Street passing a number of Indian cuisine restaurants with interesting menus posted in the window, a Starbucks, pubs, and many apartment flats. I arrived at the gates of Kensington Gardens and walked along the board walk across the gardens toward Kensington Palace and Princess Di’s children’s park.

The park was bustling. Families from grandparents to grandchildren strolled along the garden’s walkways. “Mums” played “tag” with their children. A father raced his daughter to be first to touch a park bench. Another father passes a football (in America, a soccer ball) to his son. The diversity continued to strike me. I have walked through many cities and have never seen so much diversity. Only New York City comes close. And perhaps I was so taken by the diversity because I have lived in Utah too long.

Many people are out walking their dogs. Big dogs, little dogs, dogs with coats, dogs with flashing light collars and certainly no cats. Most dogs were running free unconstrained by their masters chasing squirrels, birds and other dogs. One dog saw this as an opportunity to break from its owner and dash far off into the garden. The frantic master dashed off screaming the dog’s name into the dusk of the evening weaving through the large oak tree grove of Kensington.

The stereo-typc was confirmed for me as most dogs in the park were those little, short white dogs with the beards. I am not sure of the correct breed name but I call them “Westinghouse” or “westie” for short. They look so cute with their little plaid jackets but westies think they own the park. They have a “little dog complex”.

As the sun set, darkness settled in bringing with it a fresh, new wave of chill to the evening. I made my way back out the entrance of the Garden and I wove through the London streets as busy traffic raced by. The city remained alive. With all the brick buildings, unique detail of architecture, and smoke rising from smoke stacks, I couldn’t help but to mentally drift off and visualize the city during the World War II German assualt. In my mind’s eye I could hear screaming air raid sirens echo through vacant streets with bombs exploding off in the distance of the night. It felt erry.

I found my way back to my rented apartment where my chill remained. However, this time I unlocked the magical combination to the electric heater and it eventually chased the the cold away…..and I fell into a deep, cozy sleep.

Cheers,
dale

To Be Young and in Love........

2008-12-03T17:29:00.006-07:00

My oldest son, Douglas, recently graduated from college with a performance music degree. His performance instrument is the double bass. I guess that makes him a bassist.

Douglas spent the summer playing electric bass on a cruise ship going back and forth from Seattle to Alaska. After a four month contract, Douglas returned home to Utah for a while before heading off to San Diego in January.

Here is where the story begins. In the last part of Douglas’ senior year, he met a girl, Rose. Yes, a girl. With the introduction of a girl you quickly can see why the story starts here. Rose has been on an internship in Washington D.C. this quarter from her school in San Diego.

Are you beginning to see why Douglas is heading to San Diego in January? Yes, a girl.

Today’s technology is amazing and even more amazing when you are in love with a girl that is a long distance away. Text messages, blogs, email, internet, and unlimited minutes on the cell phone are all integral technologies to have in today’s world of love and romance. This capability surely did not exist when I was young.

It is interesting to me how transparent and open young people are today on technology like Facebook, MySpace, and internet blogs. If you follow enough young people on these social networks you can see these relationships played out right before your eyes on the internet. You know when things are going well, when a couple is having a fight, or many other things I don’t want to really know about. At times I feel like a spectator and other times I just want to intercede and referee. I am usually biased on whose side to take. I usually side with Rose.

Technology and multiple ways to communicate in today’s world do not fill the void when you are young, in love and separated for months. Douglas has been working in a restaurant but still has had free time on his hands. To fill time and do something special for Rose, he began a woodworking project to build a bookcase. This is no simple bookcase with 90 degree corners and easy joints to create. We are talking angled joints and semi-circle shelves. It is a real engineering feat.

Douglas has used every tool I own (which is actually not all that many) to complete this project. I haven’t used any of these tools in years. What does that tell you about my capacity to build or fix things?

This project has been a real labor of love. Rose, perhaps? Rose is coming through Utah to stay with us for a few days and see Douglas, mostly to see Douglas, before going home to California for the holidays. I learned a few days ago that the bookcase is to be assembled before she arrives. The two of them plan to stain and finish the bookcase together. Wow, truly this is a labor of love.

Remember those days, to be young and in love………

Snipe Hunt

2008-11-30T16:36:00.009-07:00

I am not a hunter. Never have been and likely will never be one.

But I went “bird” hunting yesterday for the second time in my life. I put “bird” in quotes because it was really “duck” hunting but real “bird” hunters do not call it “duck” hunting. The proper vernacular is “bird” hunting. You shoot “birds”, not ducks. Now you know. Should you find yourself in a conversation with a duck hunter you can speak the proper lingo and not sound like an idiot.

This was the second time I had been bird hunting. The first time was in the Utah desert looking for a bird called a Chukar. I learned after this hunt that Chukars were imported from Afghanistan and now live in the desert regions of the west. I never saw a Chukar on this hunt, other any other bird for that matter. My friend, Tom, never fired a shot. His dog never pointed at a bird. Nothing. I was convinced this was a snipe hunt, although it did make for a nice hike in the autumn Utah sun. Remember snipe hunts from your childhood days? I finally went to Cabela’s where they have stuffed wildlife on display in the store. Sure enough, they had a Chukar.

But the snipe hunt….oooppps, I mean Chukar hunt, is for another blog day.

Yesterday was a duck hunt, ah, I mean we were hunting for “birds”. I was really going along for the experience and my version of “shooting” birds was to take photographs.
Tom, who we will keep anonymous in this blog, is a hard core “bird” hunter and takes this passion of his very seriously. Since Tom did not fire a shot or get a bird all day, I don’t want to embarrass him by disclosing his real identity. But Tom, you know who you are.

The day started by meeting Tom at 5:00 am at his house. This meant getting up at 4:00 am to gather up my photography gear and put on my Iraqi thermal underwear (that’s right, my brother gave my Army issued thermal underwear when he was on assignment in Iraq. Iraq is in the hot desert but the Army insisted all those going to Iraq be issued thermal underwear. This underwear is awesome and great for skiing, so thank you U.S. Army!).

The wildlife experience began early. On the drive to Tom’s house I met up with eight doe and a big buck deer with a huge rack (a rack is the antlers on the deer’s head). I thought to myself, only in Utah, eight women and one man. I am sure the doe were all sister-wives along with their husband for a pre-dawn walk. I had to stop the car and wait for them to cross the road before I could move on.

Once we arrived at the wetlands where Tom hunts, we put on headlamps and hauled the gear to the “blind”. I learned that the blind is a place you sit in camouflage hiding from the birds until you pop out and shoot them. I was only told about the popping out and shooting part because I never actually saw it happen as Tom never fired a shot all day.

I have to confess I knew about the blind concept but was expecting something a little less primitive. I thought at least there would be wood floors, perhaps a little propane heater, camo Barko lounge chairs, you know, some of the basics. Instead, the blind is nothing but a roughly made burlap camouflaged tent sitting over shallow cold marsh water. We sat on folding camo stools for the next twelve hours staring at plastic decoy ducks sitting in the water in front of us.

Everything has to be camouflaged. I could tell Tom was worried about my black camera bags so we tucked them under the burlap camo cover and out of the water. I wore camo waiters, camo coat, and a camo hat. Tom gave me camo make-up paint to cover my face. It took me two or three attempts to get the paint just right. I just couldn’t get over that the face paint came in a little plastic case called a “camo compact”. You know women’s make-up compacts? The camo compact was the same thing, little mirror included, but minus the little brush for blush. I guess you don’t need blush when you are camouflaged.

We did see birds fly overhead, much too high to shoot at, and a few Tom tried to coax down from on high with his assortment of duck calls and whistles but with no success. Even robo-duck, a decoy duck mounted on a stick in the middle of the marsh with his mechanical, flapping wings that are wirelessly operated to simulate a duck landing in hopes of attracting other ducks to this particular marsh, didn’t work. The redeeming value of my bird education came when Tom taught me the difference between a flock of ducks and a flock of seagulls. The velocity of ducks flapping their wings is at a much faster rate than seagulls. I feel better now knowing this important difference.

At least a shot fired was fired over the course of the day, though not from Tom’s gun. The great thing about photography is that there is always something interesting to shoot. I think Tom was a little annoyed that he came away empty-handed and I got some terrific captures. Or he might have been just cold.

Either way, it was a great day taking photographs and being with my friend Tom. I look forward to processing up more of the images I captured in addition to the ones posted here.

As for Tom, rumor has it from a good source that he went back to the marsh to hunt for birds again today. As for this snipe hunter, I am staying home by the warm fire.

Cheers,
Dale

Sunday walks

2008-11-23T21:43:00.008-07:00

I missed my Sunday walk with my wife, Joy, and our dog, Roxy, today. My oldest son, Douglas, was teaching me Adobe Dreamweaver and helping creating my welcomephotoimages.com website....and this blog.

However, I posted an image from last week's Sunday walk around our neighborhood on South Mountain in Draper, UT. This capture was taken while walking on one of the wooded trails close to our house. We are so fortunate to have mountains, trails and such beauty so close to our home. A real delight for a photographer out looking for light, contrast and color.

I have challeged myself to take up the words of Jay Maisel, renowned photographer from New York City, "you can't take photographs if you don't have your camera with you!" So I decided to take my camera with me on our Sunday afternoon walk last week and this is one of my captures.

I liked this image because of the deep blue sky and contrast of the bare tree in the foreground. The weather in Utah over the month of November has been generally sunny and beautiful, unlike the rain, clouds and wet days from when we lived in Oregon. It makes for wonderful autumn days filled with sunshine and crisp, cool air.

See you in a week for my next post.

Cheers,

Dale