A new arrival...

August 18 – ‘Earth’, as I’m told locals call the blue planet, has turned out to be a rather good place for a crash landing. There’s an abundance of food, various levels of shelter, many mechanics in the vicinity who understand ‘Cadillac’ (unfortunately none whom understands Space Cadillac, which is causing some issues) and at least one very large outdoor market where one can buy practically anything – except Space Cadillac parts. This grand bizarre has the rapt attention of all of us, especially the first mate who has a well known addiction to snow cones of any flavor. Six is a reasonable limit before things get out of hand – so far an intervention has not been necessary. An elderly, blackened gentleman at the entrance gate says it’s called a ‘swap meet’, which still doesn’t make much sense. If two persons are meeting to swap stuff, should there be money involved? Regardless, it is not my place to interfere with a colony’s economics, especially when they’re all doing so well they need only work 3 days a week. As a captain in Her Majesty’s Royal Monkey Battalion, I can say I’ve never had it that good.

The Canon 40D has arrived at our house and I haven’t seen my husband since. To the astonishment of most, he’s been doing admirably well with a 300D, which I’m told is 6 years old and is responsible for everything on his website to date. He’s been carrying the new one everywhere and I’m starting to fear that he’s sneaking it into bed with us after I’m asleep – those two cannot be separated. Friday night he went out to the south end of the Strip to ‘put her through her paces’ with his friend and fellow shutterbug, Guy DeMeo. Guy brought his work camera, a Canon Mark III, because ‘the batteries on his camera [a Canon 5D] were low’. I got a giggle out of that – no photographer I know could have resisted either. I dropped Honey off in favor of a hot bath, Ibuprofen, and some time with my current book, The Bourne Supremacy, written by Robert Ludlum. They walked from Mandalay Bay to the Paris and back, shooting whatever caught their eye and getting home around 1 am. This, in my opinion, is the essence of the ‘Shits and Giggles’ shoot. As I’m told, his new 40D is bad ass.
As some of you may know, my partner in crime was laid off from a 5-year relationship with one of our local casinos a few weeks ago. I mention this not to embarrass him – hopefully his pride won’t be bruised - but to spotlight the beginning of an amazing journey, a turning point where he realized that his one love (after me, of course) is photography and that he wants nothing more than to spend his life pursuing it. A noble endeavor indeed and not a wasted life, if you ask me. Having come to the conclusion that a career (or lack thereof) doesn’t make a successful life, I’ve adopted the thinking that all decisions should be made based on the answer to one simple question: will this make me happy? Photography undoubtedly makes my honey happy and I see no reason not to chase one’s dream until you live it everyday. – This is that hippie vibe I warned you about. If you just relax your mind and accept that my illogical logic makes perfect sense, it will all be less stressful for you. - See, this all works just as hippie-happy as I’ve said because we don’t have kids or a mortgage or any real desire to be corporate 9 to 5. We do what we must to have what we want – currently that means I’m holding down the fort and my man is dashing into the wild unknown to become a full-time, successful photographer. It’s scary and it’s exhilarating.
I have a challenge for all of you. It’s simple and to the point and quite frankly should be the only point that concerns you: what is your big dream and what steps are you taking to get there? Think about it. What if you wake up on day and realize you’ve never done anything you wished for as a child?

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