Welcome

Following the third year of a holiday letter comprised
of my (increasingly complex) life via a (increasingly complex) year-in-photographs, I
wondered what it would be like to join the great experiment of 365 days of photographs.
I'm not a photographer,
I'm a writer. I'm a visual thinker, and if ever there was proof that a photo is worth a
thousand words, it would be the story a photo tells me, or in this case, about me.
Follow me on this adventure, where I
learn about photography, my ability to record my life, my dedication to something (I've
never been known for doing anything everyday) in my posts. I've also discovered I'm
learning about time, the history of it, and the odd practice of recording it, measuring it,
turning it into something tangible, and I'll record these explorations in the sidebar.
As always, feel free
to say anything. My experiment is not a spectator sport.

January 5, 2009

January 05 2009 The Birthday Reflection

"Four years ago, the day you were born, at night, when it was dark, just like this, you and I snuggled together in the bed in the hospital. I held you wrapped in a special blanket and I kissed you and I said 'I've never had a baby boy before, and I'm really happy to be your mama.' And now, I hold you before I tuck you in your bed, wrapped in a special blanket, and I kiss you and I say 'I've never had a boy kid before, and I'm really happy to be your mama.' "

And he says, "Tomorrow, you should make your hair stand all up pokey like this," holding my hair by the ends out from my head.


I was into taking reflected photos today. I took several of double-reflected words and of the convex mirror on the rearview, but this won out as my sentiment for the day. My husband had used the mirror yesterday at the birthday party, so I remembered it for today. Balloons on the ceiling, just before the boy pulls them out of the way. I turned the flash off because the glare was bad, but the lighting could have been better. I didn't take into account the shadow the ballons would make on the mirror. Interesting oversight.

No comments: