More Adventures in Studio Photography

A co-worker persuaded me to come shoot pictures of a giant list of people from her congregation--two families signed up every five minutes from 6:00-8:00. It wasn't booked solid, but we were plenty busy.

I am moderately pleased with the results, but still don't like the idea of "portraiture" in this sense. People have certain expectations of a "sitting"--moms were giving directions ("put your hand on his shoulder--yes, like that") and lo and behold, I turned into Olan Mills. There must be a better way to do this. I need to work more with studio lights.

Archibald, Archibald, and Archibald.

I'm thinking of starting my own law firm. I think these pictures pretty much prove I'm ready. I may have to rename this the "Archiblog Law blog".





"Injured in a car accident? You know who to call."



After seeing these, you know you'd hire me.

Most important ingredient.

"HIGH FRUIT!" the girl shouted from atop the toilet.
"HIGH FRUIT!"
"HIGH FRUIT!"

"WHAT?!?" shouted the boy from the other bathroom.

"I SHOUT 'HIGH FRUIT' AND YOU SHOUT 'TOAST CORN SYRUP!'" she responded.

I wonder if we've been talking about it too much....or if this could be a Family Circus cartoon. Oh boy.

Silver Beaver Award

I awarded Isaac Wesley Ayre with Scouting's most-interesting-sounding honor, The Silver Beaver Award, in a private ceremony in our home sometime this past summer for his "impact on the lives of youth through service given to the council." According to a random internet source, "The Silver Beaver is an award given to those who implement the Scouting program and perform community service through hard work, self sacrifice, dedication, and many years of service. It is given to those who do not actively seek it." He was so excited.





Any resemblance in this post to persons living, dead, or otherwise is completely coincidental. And, for the record, this blog, its author, and most of the blog's contents are almost entirely unconnected with the Boy Scouts of America, however intentionally or unintentionally.

Scout Hike to Mummy's Toe

This past month, we went on a backpacking overnighter up in the mountains outside Vegas, to Mummy Mountain. Here are some pictures.







iPod twins--the only way to hike. I'm sure it was a nature sounds album.




The view before we got to the switchbacks.



The old bristlecone pines were gnarled and reddish in color. Don't know if this does them justice.






Mummy's Toe, where we were headed the next day.



More gnarly pines.



The Raintree, the 3,000 year old bristlecone pine we camped under for the night.



The view of Mummy's Toe in the morning.



Me, halfway into a "thumb's up"--proof that I made it to the top. For the record, I am in horrible shape. And Scout pants.



Jeff, our fearless guide; his daughter, Emily; and Kurt--the guy who stayed in the back with me.



Scout.



Happy Scout.



Another Scout.

The hike was three miles with loaded packs to the Raintree, then we slept overnight. The next morning, we went without packs the two miles to the top, two miles back to our packs, and then three miles back to our cars with packs. I was exhausted--the downhill was far worse than the uphill, and my thighs, knees, and toes were extremely tired from the repeated pounding and trying to stop my weight on the downhill climb. I bought some old ski poles at a thrift store for hiking poles, and they were great to have along for support and to keep me from stumbling. And, by the time I got to the car, I determined that if I would have had to go another half mile, it might have been the end of me.

Maybe that's overly dramatic. But I was beat.

Craft

This summer at the Archiblog reunion, we made plates. This is an Archiblog family tradition, dating back to when I was a wee one (okay, not so wee--maybe 12-ish, so we're talking 1985 here), and one that has come back occasionally (a reunion in 1990, I think) and rather routinely to the point where my wife is getting tired of all the plates. But I think they're awesome, so I keep making them and making them. These are a few from our latest batch, which were delivered by my mom when she came to town with dad for a convention.

The first was made by the girl:



I am looking handsome. The bubbles on my body are clothes, not muscles (she has clarified this), and she added her own name to the plate (covered by the card), so she could, like she said tonight, "use it when I want to, because it has my name on it, too."



This one was also made by the girl. Can you guess what her favorite color is? What her favorite animal is?



I don't know where my children got the creepy cat fetish, but this one was made by the boy. Creepy. Did I mention that?



This was mine, partly inspired by Flight of the Conchords.



And, since I was on a roll, I thought I'd reference Spinal Tap, too.



This one's an oldie, but a goodie--I made it a few years ago, but it's one of my favorites.

So, if you're on our list for Christmas presents this year, get in your requests early! And you may be the proud owner of new custom tableware.

Will it ever stop? Yo, I don't know. (Synchronized Sleeping, Part IV)

I am impressed by the coordination of the outfits: black t-shirts and cartoon undies. Nice touch. And, just to toss in a bit of variety, they're posing perpendicularly on the mattress, yet heading in different directions. Amazing.

IKEA Trip

I know an IKEA trip probably isn't enough to warrant a blog post, but we got some fun pictures there.









Bug Boy.



Bug Girl.



The Boy said, "Look! I'm a mommy!" I'm so proud of him.



Bug Dad.

To Grandma and Grandpa

Something is missing from these pictures. Can you guess what it is?
See the answer at the bottom...











It's YOU! We are looking forward to seeing you in a few weeks, and to enjoy some In N Out with you! (Okay, technically, the rest of my family is missing, and, if you were there, we're missing a couple of burgers, some fries, and some drinks. But you get the picture.)

Michael Jackson shrine

Last year, when the boy started kindergarten, we learned of his school's mysterious neighbor--and continued to learn about it, since there were cars with license plates like "KNGOPOP" and with gigantic rear-window stickers praising his one-glovedness. I thought it was comical--I had no idea Michael Jackson had such a big following anymore, and I seriously questioned the sanity of people dedicating their cars and license plates (and free time to sit outside his house and watch for him) to the guy. But they did. And we knew it, since we would often drive home from church past the boy's school, mostly just to see how many people and paparazzi were waiting across the street. (Perhaps this makes us less than sane, but there's really not much else happening on a Sunday afternoon...).

Anyhoo, to say it with as much tact as I can, now he's dead, and, since we were heading to the boy's open house, we passed the house again. And what a shrine there was. This confuses me. He DID live there, about nine months before he died, and maybe the people will never make it to his real burial spot--or maybe they couldn't afford a personalized license plate dedicated to him, or a giant sticker that takes up their entire back window. So maybe this does make sense (and, while we're on the subject, I just hope that when I kick off, people will dedicate their car to my memory with a classy sticker, but I know it probably won't happen).

Here are some pictures.












You the king of pop, indeed. And all wase will.



This child watched Thriller a few too many times.



Nothing says, "We miss you!" like a nappy stuffed animal.





This one puzzles me the most--it's like a prayer, asking Michael for intercession on their behalf.



I love that this one has had corrective surgery, too.

Also interesting about this phenomenon is that now there are two full-time security guards posted on either side of the street, 24 hours a day. I wonder who's paying for that? And for what? To protect poster boards and teddy bears? They're obviously not stopping people from placing the stuff, so they must be there to protect it. Bizzarro.

Reflections, musings, and thoughts upon reaching the age of thirty-six on this day, August thirtieth in the year of our Lord Two thousand nine.

I'm old.

Drive Time

In Idaho, during my teen years, I used to drive a delivery van for a local office supplies place and had a route from Rexburg to Idaho Falls, which is about a half-hour drive one way. To stay awake, I often took a large bag of baby carrots and graham crackers to munch on. At one point, I even tried listening to audio tapes of the Book of Mormon (didn't Mark Twain once call the Book of Mormon "chloroform in print"? The audio tapes didn't do much to change that--maybe they should have Jim Dale read it...). But most often, I would play what I guess you could call the "even sum game" with the license plates, which in Idaho generally had 5 numbers or so, and, off to the left, a one-number and one-letter abbreviation that would tell you what county the car was from. I would try to add the numbers to two equal sums. Exciting.

Nevada, unfortunately, has license plates with three numbers and three letters. Doesn't make for exciting math (or math that's far too advanced for my brain). So, I've turned to word games. I've been fascinated with palindromes for a long time, regardless of how nonsensical and weird they are. I even bought a collection of them, called "I Love Me, Vol. I", which happens to be a palindrome. Here are some of the fun things I've noticed while driving:

While not a palindrome, the local shopping center Boca Park spells (albeit poorly) "Krap a Cob" backwards.

If you switch two letters in the street "Anasazi", you could spell the much more menacing "As a Nazi."

A very Las Vegas palindrome I found: "Casino: On is A/C." And, since it's 105, that is almost always appropriate.

This one doesn't make a lot of sense, but it talks about different types of cars that people drive: "Navajo? A Toyota. O.J.? A van."

A memo to Avon about a likely opportunity to sell more makeup: "Avon. Re: Pus Supernova."

I wrote this one tonight: "'Tis I! So, cat....Tacos, is it?" I like this one--probably because I like the idea of someone talking to their cat about what might be for dinner.

One of my co-workers commented, after I had told her excitedly about my palindromes, that "you like all the weird stuff about English." I guess she's right. But at least it keeps me awake while I drive.

Synchronized Sleeping (Part 3 in a series)

They're at it again! Of course, when we were in Idaho for about a month, it was harder to pay attention to their particular sleeping positions, what with them being in sleeping bags and me passing out every night from a reunion-induced food coma. Yeah--notice, dear reader, if you will, the lengths they went to to wear matching shirts this time. Also notice how their hands are placed under their chins in the exact same way. Weird. Whose kids are these? (That might sound weird if you don't know me. They're mine.)