Found a great flickr toy (click on the poster for the link to the toy. There's almost too many possibilities with this thing. I hardly know where to start. Only downside - now preview function. Who know the "Retro" font would be retro-70s, shaft-cum-scooby-doo? Fun though!

Check these out - more fun toy thingys.

I was supposed to go to San Francisco this evening but backed out like the crappy friend I seem to be lately. It was the prospect of the 180 mile round-trip that did me in. I've been home fewer weekends than I've been away since I got here - or so it feels.

I was, however, willing to walk a few blocks to a friend's birthday gig - which I did. I'm glad I did, too. It was a specially-arranged dinner at a restaurant that had been recommended but I'd yet to make it to.

It was a fixed menu, one delicious course after the other, shared by about 10 people. Good conversation, fabulous food, plenty of vino. Too much vino. But not TOO much vino.

I'm going to blog about the meal proper over at Metroblogging, so check there later.

Tonight's adventures in photography, however, made me feel like going out to get a new camera. Especially since, inspired by my post, my Robert decided to go out and get himself a new camera (despite having the magic touch with his trust sony already). Now I have camera envy in a bad way. But, of course, that's still tempered by my camera laziness - my lack of desire to learn how to use a new piece of equipment.

Besides, is EVERYONE a damn photographer these days? Look at jpg magazine. Look at Flickr.

Do this many people paint? If I started painting, would it seem like as many people paint? On the other hand, should I be trying to sell a few prints on the side? If I sold 3 or 4 at a certain price, that'd pay for a new camera. And if I could keep it up montly, my student loans as well . . . .

So a few days back I read an article about a new trend that has families investing in a 1/2 beef and packing their freezers with a hundred or so pounds of grass-fed, happy cow on which they can feed for quite awhile. Their investments help ranchers, encourage free-range cattle, and get them beef that's loads healthier than normal store brands.

From there I decided to google community-supported agriculture - CSAs - the farm thingys to which you subscribe. The farms then send you a box a week of fresh veg - a grab-bag, whatever they grow is what you get. The plan makes sense: guilty city dwellers support struggling small farms by subsidizing their, frankly, no longer completely necessary labors, while chowing on healthier food and combating American obesity. And you get the satisfaction of cooking random, unknown foods. Of course, equally likely - I expend even more money each week to let a fridge-full of decent vegetables rot while I eat out anyway.

An interesting aside: my googling led me to a public radio food blog entry about CSAs writting by a girl who was the CIT in my very first summer camp cabin. I emailed her and confused her - she didn't know who I was, which is fair. And frankly, par for the course with my relationship with the YMCA. It just is. She lives in San Francsico now. I ran into her while I was still living there. She introduced me to her boyfriend. That was three or four years ago now. I read on her blog this week that he just moved out. That is sad.

Back to the story.

I sent an excited email to my friends - about 4 of them - asking if they wanted to join the veggyfun and split the costs and the produce and perhaps institute a revolving supper club.

[Crickets chirpping]

That's not fair, actually - one gal replied, so maybe we'll get around to actually doing it. My hopes are not high. They are somewhere grouped with weekly Life On Mars watching parties.

At any rate, I still like the idea. Makes me think of my gardening friends across the pond. Strikes me as something Sarah and John would think is cool. I'm not sure I'll ever get to the point where I seek out fair trade chocolate or whatever, but I do really want world peace and stuff, so I think I should be a bit more, like, nice in my consumption.

Really though - the lists of fruit and veg and nuts and herbs look appealing and split 5 or so ways the cost works out to be around $5/week. That's really good. Especially if I actually eat it.

By the way, there's a new Blogger beta out there that I haven't really read about yet at all but from what I've gleened, offers a way to restrict readership. If the beta grows to the point where I can mess with this non-beta blog in its section of the Blogger world, I'll probably turn this into a restricted area. But I figure if you are reading this already, you'll know how to get ahold of me to get access. It'd be nice to have a bit more secure space.

I didn't take this photo - I'm blogging it from my sister's flickr account. But it illustrates the point of this post: do I need a new camera?

This photo was taken with a Panasonic DMC-FZ20 - one of 'em schmancy digital SLR cameras that today's flickrati seem so keen on. But is it too schmancy for a lazy photog like me? Most of my favorite photos are happy accidents among a field of blurred and botched intended photos.

A few years ago, my dad got me my first digital camera at Costco. I accepted the offer of a camera somewhat reluctantly because I believed then - and still do to some extent - that real film gets you real photos, and digital just can't compare. But digital is cheap, film is expensive, and I am cheap. So the pairing seemed obvious.

Now, 7945 photos later, I've bonded with my little Nikon E2100. I've got my 2 megapixels - do I need more? Sure, 3 is a magic number, but me and my 2 megapixels, we do fine on our own. Plus, since I never bothered to get a proper case for the camera, it's developed the sort of patina of love that has probably trebled its value in an Antiques Roadshow kind of way. The lens cover only fully closes if I flick at it, sure, and the lens needs cleaning desparately, but it takes some damn fine photos - I know how to use it, why give up that level of comfort?

The one thing I certainly couldn't live without is the extreme close-up focusing abilities that get me those great flower, food, and odd-angled shots. Do the fancy SLRs do that? If not, you can keep your fancy optics.

Between Rob, Mr. John, Jason, Sandra, and my dad, I'm certainly not at a loss of qualified consultants - and I'd really want to put some careful time and consideration into the selection of something so obviously important to me. The question remains, however: do I need something better and do I want it either way?

Jacqui and Chris's animal shots are persuasive - that kind of zoom and focus doesn't come on my coolpix model. But then again, look at Rob's sonycam photos - that thing doesn't even zoom and it's fantastic. It's the camera and the eye, isn't it. Can't upgrade the eye.

Then again, I did just get contacts. How does that change this tortured analogy?

I think I'm done with distance now. This past Sunday I completed the Disneyland Half Marathon along with my friend Jessica and her mom. I barely trained, so I owe my performance 100% to Jess's encouragement and pacing. I also broke my number 1 rule adopted after the SF Marathon: no pre-7am start times.

This race started at 6am and we were instructed to be in the gate by 4:30am. Bwah hahahaha. Yeah right. We got there around 5:15am and that was still too early - though I was glad not to be in the way far back - it only took us 15 minutes to actually pass the mat after Curt Pringle fired the gun.

Our hotel was actually a short walk from the start, as two eager beavers informed us as they strode confidently out the door at 4:20am for coffee, still wearing their matching teevas. Jess calculated that a 10 minute walk meant two-thirds of a mile or so - a distance that only matters if you add it to an hour wait time and 13.1 additional miles. So we waited forever for an eventually windowless (I mean, openings, no glass) shuttle bus to transport us the very long, cold way to the start line. Highlight: the bus stalling at the second hotel it serviced, a location further away than our own hotel. It worked out fine, though.

Standing in the pre-dawn, still, cold air, I wondered what in the hell I was doing. Soon, though, music blared, shots were fired, and we started shuffling our way to the actual point we could start running. Mickey and Minnie were there to high-five everyone, and a monorail full of characters was parked overhead, waving us through.

The first four miles or so were great fun - through California Adventure (where I'd never been, but would like to go for reals, not just for racing) and then Disneyland itself. It was a bit too short a pass, however, and it was followed by 8 or so miles of scenic Anaheim. That monotony was broken by numerous bands and dance troupes. Hard to enjoy when you're focused on passing them, but a nice distraction.

This was the first race I've ever run without an iPod strapped to my arm. Having company made that okay, but there were still moments when no amount of wheezing conversation was going to drown out the "stopppp, nowww, pleasssee" in my head.

The first 6 miles went relatively quickly. Miles 7 and 8 were alright. After that, I experienced a quick review of all my full marathon training. In a span of a mile, I hit cardio fatigue, muscle aches, and finally, that beloved joint pain that traveled slowly up my legs and settled in my hips. Ah, memories.

Training comes out in those last few miles and I was suffering for my lack of it by the time we crossed the parking lot and ran onto the field at Angels' Stadium. I was stuck at slow jog, unable to pace my walk with Jessica's fast walk, and already too slow to keep up with her run. I hated playing catch-up, but I would've broken 3 hours had I not had that incentive to push it for the last 2+ miles.

The sun was up and beating down by the time we passed under the freeway again and headed back into California Adventure. We passed through the Downtown Disney streets and into the finish chutes. Dammit, distance sucks.

Nothing says job well done like the immediate seizure of your lower extremities and the strapping of a heavy, bothersome medal around your sweaty, irritated neck.

After stamping happily on the mat to clock out of the race, I stumbled over to have my chip removed, receive my medal, and then fell into the food tent, tearing into a bagel and a bottle of Dasani like there was no tomorrow.

A bunch of Jess's workmates - mostly Stag and Athena RISLOGers - met us in the finisher area. I'd have sold my medal for some shades and a parasol, but it was nice to be among the happy and tired crowds and to know that, finally, not only would I not have to worry about training, but I wouldn't have to worry about feeling guilty about not training.

There's an interesting form of immediate-onset amnesia that occurs as a runner passes the finish line. You forget the pain and the training and the joint pain and think, "hey, when's the next one?" Contrasted with the 13.1 - or 26.2 - miles of "f this s, never again," it's quite a change.

I would consider another half, but I think this first half experience confirms that I'm not likely going to pursue another full - and I'm fine with that. I do have a few events scheduled - but they are marathon relays. Six miles? No problem. 26 and a .2? Problem.

So that's that.

Now if only I can get this stabbing pain out of my right foot, I'll be back on track. Figuratively and literally. It might not make sense, but these long events have really interfered with the kind of regular work out I'd like to pursue. They've distracted more than interfered. Again, not that I was training, but the cloud of upcoming distance made my usual carefree days in the gym seem like I was shirking work. Blah.

So back to work with my bad (big) ass. Bikini season will be here again before I know it. Wait, it's California - it will never leave, will it?

During high school, Sandra and I took a tour of nothern California colleges. After a night at Cal Poly SLO, while waiting for our bus, I snapped a photo of Sandra sitting on our luggage. She was off to the side, chin resting on her hands, and it was, if I do say so myself, as much of a model shot as she's ever had taken. We love that photo.

I thought of that photo when one of me ran in USA today after the 2004 election. Similar structure. Similar, yet totally different expression.

Must be that magic proportion - set someone in the far third of the shot and you'll get a winner every time.

I hadn't planned on doing that here, but it happened anyway. And as I said in the caption, this was the first shot I thought was messed up. But it turned out perfect. I'm not sure I've ever seen that expression before. Sandra's was very Sandra. Mine was very day-after-the-election. I don't know what his is here though. Piercing, though. I like it.