Breaking in the new Fish-Eye lens

Somehow I'm not too sure Ruth is going to be very happy with me when she sees that I've posted this pic. But it is just too good not to share. [btw, this was a Fish-Eye lens, she doesn't normally look THAT goofy. ;-) ]

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Blogging from Boise

Good heavens it's been a long time since I've blogged. I kind of got a little wrapped up with all of the stuff going on, between the banking (see the last post for a rather long and tedious explanation, more has happened since on that matter, but I've come to the realization that no one really cares about my troubles with Wells Fargo). I've also been installing a new shower in our house, and typically to a DIY project it has taken far longer than it should have, but c'est la vie.

This is why you should never play king of the hill with a cat.

Taken from my front window with my macro lens. If you look at the full size you'll notice that Larry (the cat) has a bloody lip. He got this from a rather traumatic run in with two very enthusiastic Boston Terriers who'd come out with a contractor to do some work. Poor Larry cowered for a day or so after that anytime he heard a noise, and was only coaxed out of his post traumatic stress with some special fancy chicken canned kitty food Ruth got special for him as comfort food.

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One of the fist of our 2008 calves. As you can see he's an energetic little cuss. Just after this was taken he got confused and thought the pick-up was his mom. He kept trying to poke his head into a wheel-well looking for milk, and wouldn't give up until we drove away and his real mom started mothering him.

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Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

Okay, maybe I'm feeling a little theatric with my title this post, but Ruth's and my struggle with the banking world this past few weeks has taken on epic proportions. A grand panorama spanning the country, nay even the very globe figure into this tale. Featuring, villains, heros, buffoons, and Presidents (at least of the local Wells Fargo).

Afternoon Apple Pie-New Macro Lens

The macro lens doesn't make everything look better, Ruth's pie already looked that good, but it sure does make close-up pics like this look delish!

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New Macro Lens-Amaryllis

Just got a wonderful new macro lens for my Nikon. After playing with it for an hour or so, taking pictures of everything that will hold still long enough, I'm pretty much awestruck.

This is a pic of a flower (Amaryllis I think) that ruth and I were given some years ago. It generally blooms sometime from December to February and lightens up an otherwise monochrome Montana winter.

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Singin' the FAP Blues

I like to think that so far I've kept the few things that I written on here relatively positive. The world just doesn't need more people moaning about how bad everything is all the time. Sure some things around are pretty bad; we all know that, but you can't swing a proverbial "cat" on the proverbial "internet" without hitting a proverbial "blogger" complaining about their Helio Ocean, or iPhone, or Amazon Kindle, or EV-DO not working exactly like they think it should (all products that don't work in Montana by the way, except for EV-DO, which just won't work within 60 miles of my home.)

Its been a long few weeks.

I feel I've been a little remiss in my blogging lately. I don't get too worked up about the frequency of my posts, but I do pay for this website so that I can post crap that no one reads, and just how can a blog be reader-less if there is no content for no-one to read. (If a blogger posts to the Internet and no one is there to read it does it make a difference? That's a little more apropos than "If a tree falls in the forest...", at least for this--and most other--blogs.)

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Bold Orion on the Rise

I've always wanted to do some night sky photography, and with the Nikon I finally have a camera with decent time exposure controls. I was hoping to catch a Geminid meteor in the frame but gave up after about ten minutes because it was right about 0° F. that night, but I do think that some of the star pics were worth the effort anyhow.

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