(Hold on tight....there really is a point to this saga...)
Given that today's weather won't let me out of the house, I'll trim close to 2" off this beard today. The increasing length is making my beard difficult to style, and it's getting a bit out of control.
Some folk that aren't in the beard 'inner circles' will think "Taking 2 inches off that beard shouldn't make that much of a difference!", when the reality of the situation is that when this beard is combed straight down, even the most casual observer will note a huge difference. Hold on.... The moral of this Aesop's fable approacheth:
After the snow plows have freed me from my snowy prison, and before I leave my home again, I will style my beard in it's recognizable "up-do" form. With a 100% assurance, I can guarantee you that not even the most eagle-eyed onlooker would notice that a single hair had been trimmed on my face.
The same can be said for my 1 acre in Ladue. My significant-other can leave for work in the morning, and while he is out, I can trim the trees and plants on our property. When trimming and editing is necessary, I can take some CAREFULLY SELECTED 'chunks' out of his most prized Magnolia (as just one example) that is located immediately adjacent to the space that he parks his car.
Just between you and me - and in all confidence, can I just tell you that when he parks his car that evening, and walks into the house, I won't hear a peep about his prized Magnolia being molested.
We have lived in this house 4 years. Every season, I have to prune / trim most 'green stuff' on our property to keep it in-check. To date, and as of this writing, he hasn't noticed a single snip.
Why, you ask, "Hasn't he noticed or said anything about your pruning?"
The answer is quite easy and very natural to me, and I wish I could say the same for those that are hacking the Hell out of the plantings at The Missouri Botanical Gardens.
The answer:
GOOD. JUDICIOUS. EDITING ! ! ! !
Remember:
My beard really NEEDED trimming, and yet people that see me on a daily basis will never know that a single hair has been touched.
I guess we can't say the same for that wonderful stand of Bottlebrush Buckeye (Aesculus parviflora) that is located across from the Climatron.
Please note the wonderfully sheltering feeling that one would get as that passed through these beautiful white spires. Also notice the fantastic symmetry of this space.
Don't jack with me. I know.... I know.... Bottle brush grows quickly. You do know, of course, that there is such a thing as JUDICIOUS EDITING that will accomplish both goals of getting this beautiful plant to grow back, and once again be 'bushy' instead of taller and 'leggy' AND simultaneously maintaining the form and shape that Garden visitors find endearing.
So much for endearing, timelessness and stability, eh?
(The 'grassy' knoll where the 4 faced-Buddha sculpture / lantern stood that has been seasonally planted with tulips..... burgundy elephant ears.... SOMETHING.... is a different story, altogether, and a different book for another day. A couple words to the wise about wasted space and wasted opportunities:
1) Not many people ever died saying, "God, I wish I could see more grass!"
(Please remember - we can get all the grass that our little hearts desire, absolutely free of charge, and in a relatively un-molested state in Tower Grove Park - located right across the street!)
2) I know that most of my readers probably won't see the situation in this light, but I have many very good examples of what sensory deprivation does to unsuspecting victims, and 99.99% of the time, these changes occur slowly, and without the individual's knowledge. (But the changes are immediately noticeable to those that are aware of this danger.)
3) In a all-around point of view, WASTE is a 'bad thing', and should be avoided at all costs.
_____________________________________________________________
Even as we speak', that is going to become glaringly apparent to the folk at the Missouri Botanical Gardens when I blast them for their latest round of mindless hacking that they have done to iconic and beloved areas of the Gardens.
((:::Almost finished with a blog entry that I am preparing to zing in their direction:::)
As a result of my efforts to maintain detail and to preserve the detail that you might some day enjoy (before it's gone by the way of laziness, watering down, and selling out, etc!), I am well known for being outspoken to these people.
Thusly, I am definitely no stranger to the Vice-President of the Missouri Botanical (Mr. Andrew Wyatt), and I have taken a 'buggy ride' with him in one of their golf carts, doing a one-on-one survey and comparison of 'changes' at the Gardens.
When we finished with our hour and a half 'meeting', I got out of the golf cart, and assumed a shocked look on my face, and quickly looked down at the back of my right calf. My head shot back up as I looked him dead in the eye, and I exclaimed, "Oh, what is that warm, wet sensation that I feel running down the back of my leg?" A confused look shot across his face as I continued, "Oh, now I know what it is! To quote one of my mentors, Judge Judy, 'Don't piss down my leg and tell me it's raining!"
Those people TRULY think I'm crazy, but the only difference between me and them is that I never, ever saw "The Emperor's New Clothes" - and I hop I never will.
(Moral #1 of this Aesop's fable:
If a tree - just as one SMALL example - is still there when you visit MoBot, THANK ME for fighting for it.
Moral #2 of this Aesop's fable:
Git yer buns to The Missouri Botanical Gardens before these sell-out, increasingly lazy, hazy people turn it into nothing more than a glorified walk through an average city park, which, incidentally, we can get free and unmolested right across the street. The threat is very real and at the rate they are going, this outcome is inevitable.
(The small, 10-minute effort that I went through to write this 'book' will not be in vain. I'm using all of it in the blog I'm sending them.
This morning, Mr. Ass-Bird is up to his same ole tricks again.
Yesterday, I make from-scratch cooked chocolate pudding. I have 4 egg whites left over after I used the yolks for the pudding.
Conrad's breakfast ALWAYS starts with scrambled eggs - every morning. I cook one egg for him every couple days, and keep it in the refrigerator, giving him a little each morning until it's gone. The rest of his daily diet is varied, but eggs has always been - and will always be - the center of his diet.
I absolutely hate waste - and most people who do it, so I cooked the egg whites in the microwave for Conrad's breakfasts for the next few days. Four egg whites should get him several meals.
The little shit tastes the egg whites, and he refuses to eat them. (After all, they are WHITE and not YELLOW, and he doesn't taste any yolk in the eggs. So, he's naturally going to refuse to eat the whites.)
This morning, without ceremony, I give him the egg whites in his bowl, and I walk away from his cage. His begging and pleading for breakfast continues. After tasting the egg whites, he not only can tell that they look different, but that they taste different, too. He refuses to eat the egg whites.
I know... I know... I can mix the cooked egg whites with Rudolph's (pug) food, and he would love it, and I could cook another whole egg for Conrad.
Oh, no, Hunties. I won't be taken down like that.
I calmly walk over to Conrad's cage, and I remove the offending food bowl from his cage. I search my pantry in vain for yellow food coloring.
African Greys can tell the difference between many shades of color. Birds have the best vision of any animal, including humans, on the planet. Luckily, contrary to popular belief, most birds have very poor senses of smell. They are very sight-based animals. (You never see a bird sniffing each other's butt, and again, contrary to popular belief, if you see a true, obviously undeveloped, unfledged baby bird that has been knocked out of his nest by a storm, you can pick him up and put him back in the nest. His parent(s) can't smell 'human' on him.
Anywho, I realized that, out of two boxed of food coloring, all my yellow is gone.
What to do?
Turmeric to the rescue!
I put some turmeric w/ water in a small bowl, and I take the offending egg whites out of Conrad's bowl, and I place them in the turmeric-infused water. I then let the eggs sit a few minutes to absorb the yellow color. After rinsing them off quickly in water, they have a definite yellow-orange hue to them, but they're not stark white.
(Greys also have a VERY discerning sense of taste. He can easily taste the difference between plain egg whites and a cooked whole egg - and he can even taste the slightly turmeric-flavored egg whites, but that, indeed, is something that he is just going to have to get over - something he's going to have to deal with, because I can't and won't change it.
I nonchalantly put the colored egg whites back in his food bowl, and the bowl back in his cage. RELUCTANTLY AS HELL, he is actually eating the whites. He's not at all thrilled with the situation, and I'm still hearing lots of begging coming from that room, but hey - he's eating his breakfast!
- Michael
Even thought the huge Wentzville, MO Flea Market is open year-round (very early Sunday mornings), for various reasons, I limit my visits to seasons when outdoor temps are tolerable. My last visit of the season is sometime in October, and my first visit is usually in April.
I wear my own homemade gear to make the early chilly Sunday mornings a bit more tolerable:
I go to the Market 3 - 4 times a year. On many occasions, I have spent not a single dollar, but on several visits, I spent $100, but I rarely exceed that limit. Through the years, I have found many items that I have been wanting to buy, but I waited for a good deal.
On in the case of shopping do I have 'patience'. I taught myself, note-by-note, how to read music above the age of 40. I play at least 6 heavy-handed Scott Joplin tunes every day, along with probably 20 other songs that bring something else to the table, as so to speak. I play the other songs 1) Because I like them and 2) since I am my own music teacher, these songs teach me various things that I want to learn.
I also taught myself how to knit.
I grow very-non-local tropical fruits and other plants from seed that I have taken from fruit that I get at a local Global Market.
When unsuspecting folk tell me, "Oh, I don't have the patience to do those things!", in doing so, they subconsciously are giving themselves this 'wild and wooly' power AND making a lousy excuse to be lazy.
I respond, "I am the most impatient Son-of-a-Bitch that you will ever meet. I have no patience AT ALL. 'Patience' are for lazy people that sit around and wait for something to happen. 'PERSEVERANCE' is for those of us who cuss a lot - then, we get the job done!"
ANYWHO.....
From the same man that I bought my original 20 control panel glass light covers, I the same found a small bucket full of these glass control panel light indicator covers (??). I bought a total of 35 of these little gems - for 10 cents a piece. I paid $3, because he gave me 5 free. They are in red, green, white and yellow.
I have a friend that is turning the original 20 pieces into a choker similar to the one that I wear in all of my profile pics.
I don't know what I'll do with these 35, but I'm sure they'll get a new life as a piece of fabulous jewelry or a sculpture, etc.
I also bought a "ChromAharP" (that's the way it's spelled on the 1968 insruction manual!) instrument.
Yep. That's just what I need - another musical instrument! Even though the same company is still in business today, these little beauties are still being made and sold today. We paid $40 for this one, which is a very good price when compared to eBay prices. I do need to replace a couple strings, but that's not a major issue.
I play my xylophone and now this 'ChromAharP' to make me think about the music that I'm playing, rather than just to play a keyboard off the top of my head. In this manner, I teach myself MORE about music - and more about myself. These two instruments make me stop and THINK. Doing things that make you REALLY think builds physical brain. Really. It does. (No, not those little tidbits of information that make you say, "Oh, I learned something today!" That's a cheap cop-out, folks, and it does little to nothing to actually make new neurons connect in your head. Doing things that force you to exercise your brain will, in fact, build new and better brain matter - and it will make more efficient use of the brain matter that you already have.
We got three pair of nice, wooly winter socks from the famed 'Sock Lady' for a total of $6. #2 for a pair of sock isn't a bad investment.
I know.... I know... Another thing that I need to take up space in our home is another hat, right?
I couldn't resist this one. The other 3 hats are worth somewhere around $1,000.
I paid $10 for this 'Resistool Beaver 4X' cowboy hat. This one will be my "I really want to wear a hat today, but it's too damned hot' OR 'I'm just going out of the house for a few minutes, and I don't want to go as "full Michael" today - type of hat. The same hat is running from $45 - $150 on eBay.
We got a bit of decor to add to "That 1960's House" that we live in.
This piece is easily 4' x 4'. The guy that sold it to us said he had 20 - 30 more like it in his garage. I can't help wonder in which manner were they originally used, but, it does add a focal point to our great room. Our price: $10
We live on a 1 acre plot. I do have a standard push lawn mower, but there are several occasions through the mowing season that I have a small strip of grass that needs to be cut - but the rest of the huge lawn does not.
This is particularly true of the space around my two small raised beds, and the grass around my potted plants, such as my 4 Pumelo (huge citrus) trees and my fig tree. The grass in the vicinity of these pots gets overspray from when I water the pots, and it grows more than the grass in the rest of our front / back lawns.
This new, 'old-fashioned' reel lawn mower does the trick! The guy that sold me this mower said his sister bought it,and used it once. These things are - new - at Home Depot, for example, for $89. The sharpening kit is an additional $15. I got $104 worth of merchandise for $30. "That's a deal!", considering that I would have happily paid the full price at the store - because I really wanted one of these mowers.
I love my little flea market finds! We live 35 miles from this flea market. I get my bod out of bed at 5:00 AM on days that I want to go to the flea market, and I am headed on down the road by 5:45 AM, so I can get a parking spot in the parking lot, rather than "parking way out". I get to the flea market at exactly 6:30 AM.
I believe the vendors can start selling by 6:00 AM, but, depending on the time of year / season, you can be shopping in the dark at 6:00 AM. 6:30 AM is early enough for me, and even so, I see lots of people pouring over tables of goodies with a flashlight at that time of the morning.
When we pull into the parking lot at 6:30 AM, it's 1/4 full. (This is a big parking lot!). If you wait until 6:45 AM - 7:00 AM to arrive, you won't find a single available parking space in the entire lot. AND... if you don't shop early, you will see the smart 'early birds' carrying the stuff that you REALLY wanted to buy past you as they're taking their goodies to their cars, to return to the Market to continue shopping.
So - there I am. At 6:30 AM.... in 'full form' (hair on the face washed, moussed, hairsprayed and blow dried into place... eyeliner on... great fashionable clothes - hat on the head, pushing my granny cart! (And... I have to feed and potty 3 picky dogs and one very mouthy parrot before I can leave the house!)
You will never regret buying a good quality hand cart. Within one or two shopping seasons, you will regret buying a $20 cart when one of the wheels falls off in the middle of a flea market shopping spree!
"The sweetness of a good deal is long forgotten while the bitterness of poor quality remains."
I bought this cart for $79 at The Container Store - after the wheels fell off my $20 cart. I hand-made the bag that fits perfectly inside to keep stuff from falling out! (a lot of people use an appropriately-sized cardboard box in the bottom of the cart for the same reason.)
- Happy shopping!
Michael
Just yesterday, I was climbing the outdoor human Habitrail - the "MonstroCity" at the St. Louis City Museum.
For more info https://www.citymuseum.org/ , or Google "St. Louis City Museum" for more images.
A little (8 yr old!) girl: "Why are you wearing girl's shoes?"
Back story:
I have very few pairs of shoes. To make a long story a little longer, I was born with an oddly clubbed foot (as opposed to 'normally clubbed'! ) My foot didn't point out laterally or inward - medially, as 'normal' clubbed feet do, but, instead, my foot pointed straight up in front of me, in the shape of a safety pin. I have a surgically reconstructed foot that - before it was all said and done - had an accidental maggot infestation. My foot has been put through the ringer. Shoes are made for people with predictable feet. At least one of my feet will not be appearing in anybody's crystal ball any time soon. My man-made ankle does not reside in the same space as a normal ankle. Mine is a little closer to the floor, and a bit more forward on the foot. Thusly, nearly any and all shoes will rub the wrong way, and depending on the resilience of the shoe's material, I will have a bloody blister on my ankle (the side of my foot that is medial - closest to the center of the body) within seconds, minutes or hours. When I wear dress shoes to funerals, etc, I have to wear 3 - 4 socks on one foot AND several Band-Aids on my ankle so I won't be limping in pain before I get out of the house, and to avoid bloody blisters that seep through my socks.
Anywho.... For that reason, it is difficult for me to find a pair of shoes that I find 'friend' instead of 'foe'. I wear toed socks that I hand-knit year-round with sandals, with the exception of during the few deeper winter snows that the St. Louis region may or may not get. Even so, I usually wait them out, refusing to leave the house even to go just a few feet to the mailbox until the snow has melted off all sidewalks, roads and parking lots.
If I absolutely must get out of the house before the snow has adequately melted, I have a pair of Zoe thick-soled Doc Marten shoes that I can wear if we have only a couple of inches of snow on the ground. If the snow is deeper, I do have a pair of snow boots, but in the 12 years that I have owned those boots, I can count the times on one hand that I have worn them.
I also have a pair of shoes that I wear when I ride my bicycle, and when I explore the City Museum (wearing sandals to that attraction would mean definite foot suicide!)
These shoes were purchased from a mall store - the "Journey" shoe store. They are MEN'S All-Star Converse tennis shoes.
Please note the available 'Men's' sizing:
Yes, they are Hot Raspberry pink glittered men's shoe.
(Those of you that know me on a personal level will readily admit that if I wanted to wear a pair of 8" stiletto platform Lady Gaga-inspired pumps to a local mall at 3:00 PM in the afternoon to do some shopping, I'd do just that very thing with no hesitation.)
Years before I knew the most famous drag queen on the entire damned planet - RuPaul - I used her mantra:
"What other people think of me is none of my damned business."
(Translated: What they think is a problem in their head, and in their own self-imposed prison. It has nothing to do with me or my head.)
I asked this little girl - sporting a very safe / tame Page Boy haircut, "Why do you think that my shoes are 'Girl's shoes'?
Her answer, "Because they're pink!"
(Mind you, her parents were standing immediately behind her during this entire exchange.)
I asked her, "Then what color are boy's shoes?"
Her answer "Blue!"
My response, "Then, pink is for girls, and blue is for boys?"
Her response (with such an authoritative, "I'm smarter than you" look on her face that definitely would make you want to pop her upside her head!) : "Yep! Those are girl's shoes!"
(About that time, her parents knew she was going to lose a battle against someone old enough to be her grandfather, and they said to her, "Oh, honey! I love those shoes! Men are wearing pink these days!")
I looked at the little girl (who, thankfully, was wearing a blue top!), "Then, if that were true, do you know that you're wearing a boy's shirt?"
Girl: "NUH UH!" (Translated: "No, I'm not!")
Me: "It's blue, isn't it? You said yourself that pink is for girls and blue is for boys. You're wearing a boy's shirt!"
At that point, I decided that she was already filled up to the top by her starchy parents, and that it would take more power than I had and more energy than I ever wanted to devote to her cause to make her more malleable, and to enjoy the world as-is, rather than try to run it from her own little corner of Ladue, MO. (We were in downtown St. Louis, but - you will have to trust me on this one - I KNOW THOSE PEOPLE LIVE IN LADUE!"
My final statement to her was:
"You're much to young to have already collected the number of double standards that already you possess! But - in your short years, you have really worked hard. You've already changed yourself from a free, malleable and creative mind to a controlling, self-imposed prison!"
I then looked up at her parents and said,
"Congratulations! When she grows up, she'll fit right in with the rest of the Republicans!"
Then - I went on about my way, exploring the fantastical St. Louis City Museum, freeing my mind and my body then more than I did before.
- Michael
Mark and I were shopping at a local Schnuck's grocery store (old Ladue, MO ladies get horny, too!)...
An obviously well endowed gentleman turned in to the isle that we were in, and this gent's blessings were apparent, most likely, even to Helen Keller.
There was an old woman in the same isle. She looked down at his...er....stuff... and she gasped slightly. At the same time, a young woman walked around the corner of the isle and joined him.
The old lady (probably in her 80's) walked up to the young lady, she fervently patted the young miss on her shoulder, and the only thing she exclaimed was:
"Good for you, Honey! Good for you!"... and the older lady went on about her business!
I almost wet myself right then and there in a grocery store!
I had to sit down in the deli until I could get the tears out of my eyes from laughing at her honesty and frankness.
- Michael
Hold your breast - err.... I mean... Your Breath! The ensuing saga isn't short, but it's worth reading. At least I think it is.
When I was in my early 20's, I made a fool-hardy attempt at 'quitting caffeine. You see, genetic heart disease runs in my family, and I thought I was doing my heart a favor by eliminating caffeine from my diet.
Two days after my last cup of coffee, I went to the Emergency Room with a particular migraine that was so bad that the nurse in the ER had to put me in a separate, very dark exam room. They put me in a Geri chair (old person's nursing home chair!), restraining me so my flailing wouldn't injure myself, put an ice pack on my forehead, and she told me that 'The Dr. will be in soon to see you." Keeping the light OFF, she closed the door as she left. When Dr. came in the room to see me, he forgot and switched on the overhead light in the room.
I am here to tell you; Linda Blair's projectile vomiting had nothing on me! From across that small room, my spew hit the ER Dr. right in the chest. He went running back out the door. He came back in a few minutes later - wearing a new, white lab coat - and carrying a small pen light.
He learned that there was a reason that I as sitting in the dark.
Migraine + light = projectile vomiting.
He finished his examination using that pen light. Occasionally, the sill man got too close to my face with that damned pen light, and my instant heaving told him that perhaps, he should move that tiny - but bright! - light farther away from my face before I made his new lab coat look like another Jackson Pollock painting!
All of those events happened because I thought I was doing myself a favor and and I should quit caffeine.
After TWO Imitrex (Migraine) shots, and another 2 hours of observation, as I walked out of the exam room, the Dr. pointed in the direction of the hospital cafeteria and said, "Go. Get. A. Cup. Of. Coffee. Now."
HOWEVER.... that does seem to be the pattern in my life.
My Dr. urges me to keep bicycling, because that is the only exercise my body will allow me to do (long story!)..... She knows I can't wear a bicycle helmet because it causes the psoriatic arthritis in my neck to act up, giving me severe headaches. She gave me the "OK" to bicycle without a helmet, saying, "You can't stop bicycling. Your legs will do down-hill quickly. Please keep bicycling - but PLEASE BE CAREFUL!"
and.... I have psoriasis. Seven yrs. ago, I had over 300 lesions the size of half dollars - on my legs alone. I had not seen the skin on my elbows in 20 years, and my stomach was one huge bloody, scaly mess.
(NO.... !!! You don't have 'just the right cream for that!', either. It's a genetic autoimmune condition - and lies in every cell in the human body for your entire life. At best, any cream on the damned planet will turn this stuff from a red, dry, scaly, itchy mess to a hot pink, shiny mess - but creams can't eradicate it. I can't possibly relay to you the number of times people have looked at my lesions - before tanning - and said, off the cuff and without additional thought, "Oh, you need to use lotion!" or "I have the perfect cream that you need!" I just look at said individual, roll my eyes, and I say, "Oh, really? If there was a cream that would totally eliminate psoriasis - which is a genetic condition, and it's DNA code lies in every fricken cell of the human body, then there would be a line around the block at every pharmacy on the damned planet! Such a 'miracle cream' does not exist!"
Do you, dear reader, think they got my message? I think not. :) )
The medicine that the dermatologist wanted me to use is $600 / month, and it is extremely toxic to the liver. He told me to 'put rubber gloves on, and then put this stuff all over your body!" My answer to him: "WHY THE SAME HELL USE GLOVES? TOXICITY IS TOXICITY!"
He answered me, "Your only other choice is to go outside as much as possible. If you don't have that much time to spend in the sun, go to a tanning salon. If you don't have time to go to a tanning salon at least 3 times a week, buy your own tanning bed."
For two years, I spent $70 a month for a membership to a tanning salon. Faithfully, I drove 3 times a week to tan. Within two weeks, every lesion I had on my body was *gone*. My skin was 100% clear.
That was 7 years ago. Spending the money, taking my time to drive to the tanning salon, etc, quickly 'lost any original charm that it might have held', and I bought my own professional-line, full-size tanning bed.
I don't mean to be grody, but Psoriasis is a genetic condition that will attack any area of the skin 'where the sun doesn't shine.' When I'm in my tanning bed - every day - I have to remove the plugs from my ear piercings while I tan, AND, for the first 15 minutes of the half hour that I spend in that tanning bed every day, I have to *SIT* on it.... you know... to tan 'where the sun doesn't shine'!
Otherwise, I will get psoriasis lesions THERE - if you know what I mean.
(During the St. Louis franchise of the annual World Naked Bike Ride, I have never been more glad than I am at this moment to have a genetic skin disease! There are a *LOT* of pasty white people that are naked on bicycles, and because of psoriasis, I don't have one square inch of white skin on my body.
I had to make a choice: 1) Look like a leper or 2) Look like George Hamilton and Moses' love child.
I chose the 'George - Moses' thing. It looks better on me! 
Now..... If I could only find a Dr. that tells me to drink and smoke!
:D
- Michael
Re: My smile and why you seldom see it.
Yes, it's a small book, so hold your breast - I mean your breath, brace yourself, and read on:
During my *entire* grade school AND high school experience, I absolutely and positively loathed 'picture day' to the point that - honestly - I damned near had panic attacks on every picture day of every school year that I ever attended school - from Kindergarten through 12th Grade.
In an on-again and off-again fashion, my mother would yell at me (as she was so good at) for 'not smiling' in my school pictures AND she would yell at me for smiling in my school picture poses!
It was to the point that when my class' pictures would return from the school photographer, I would hide my large envelop for DAYS in my school desk or in my hall locker, and lie to my mother, telling her "My class' pictures haven't come in yet." (Even though both my brothers brought home their pictures on the same day!)
Ultimately, I knew that I was going to have to face her, and I bit the bullet and brought them home.
My mother would yell at me 1) If I smiled in my pictures. and 2) If I didn't smile in my pictures.
The sub-plot of this saga is this:
I will NEVA, EVA "Smile" when somebody has me pose for a pic and says, "Smile!" or "Say Cheese!" I won't do it - so don't ask me to. When I WAS forced to smile when posing for pictures, my smiles looked horribly contrived and fake. Horribly.
I strongly advise any and everybody that wants a picture of me smiling to snap that shot when I am completely unaware that my pic is being taken - when I am smiling naturally. THOSE smiles, my friends, are absolutely beautiful. I get my share of compliments on my beautiful smile when I am out and about - especially since I have a mouth full of dentures. (I've had full dentures since I was 29.) Compare and contrast that to the contrived smiles that look twisted and wrong. Just wrong.
The above 2 pics are examples of smiles that were caught off-guard. In the photo with Mark, I was setting my camera on 'auto', and posing - with no smile - for my own 'selfies'. I have 10 seconds from the time I click the shutter button until it actually takes the pic to get my pose just right. Mark stepped in and squeezed me about 1 second and a half before the shutter automatically snapped. I was laughing at his antics, thusly, the smile was organic and not contrived.
In the above pic, I was 18, and had been out of high school only a few months. For ONCE in my life, I wanted to pose for my own pictures the way *I* wanted to pose for them. Before I even got in front of the camera, I told the photographer at the front desk of Olan Mills, "Don't say "Smile", because I won't do it. Don't even try it. If you want a natural smile out of me, start telling me jokes. Tell me something FUNNY! THEN - you will get the smile you've been looking for. When you do - don't tell me when you're going to click the shutter - just do it!" He did just that. He started telling me jokes, and I started laughing, because he was actually funny.
The shutter snapped. The rest is history. I will not, however, smile on command for posed pictures. In fact, as you can see from my profile pics, I have learned how to turn a 'stern' face in to an art form.
When people approach me at events and functions, and Hell, when they approach me every day in WalMart, malls - even the grocery store - for a pic, without exception, I give them a ready-made, stern-faced pose. I have mastered that one. And it works for me.
Actually, posing for *every* profile pic that has my very familiar stern-faced pose is very easy and effortless to pull off. This is how I do it with predictable results every time:
1) I have my camera on its tripod.
2) I have my lighting already set up.
3) I click the 10 second timer on the shutter. I know exactly how many warning beeps the camera will give me before snapping the pic.
4) I get my body into the position that I have planned.
5) I usually have just a couple seconds to spare, so I look DOWN at the ground until I know the last beep / second is up. THEN, I quickly look up and directly at the camera lens.
In that fashion, I don't have time to pull a contrived or posed look. I don't have time to get my face 'set' in that "Come on, damn it! Click the shutter!" pose. "Mr. Stern Face" arrives at the party a fraction of a single second before the shutter clicks. Even though it's a serious face, it has a natural, organic quality that I couldn't hope to achieve if I stood there with a silly grin plastered on my face, waiting for what seems like an eternity for that damned shutter to do it's job and to end my merciless suffering. he he he
This is the results of that small effort:
- Michael
