30 Days of Summer | Day 9 | 24 Hours of Booty

I got up early this morning, before an AM shoot I had, to go snap a few photos at the 24 Hours of Booty in Charlotte.  It is a fund-raiser for cancer, with the bicycle riders riding for… well, a long time.  I knew I could get shots at any time, since they would be riding all night, and frankly we had run out of Frankenberries, so I snuck out before the kiddies were up.

For all of you out-of-towners, or those of you who always wanted to know what the Booty Loop is but were too embarrassed to ask, it’s a three-mile (2.8) area, where people walk and run, etc. in the heart of Myer’s Park, where they go to check each other out… hence the booty.  Someone referred to it as our boardwalk.  You go to see and be seen if you are fit and wearing spandex.  The trees are tall and arching, the homes are gorgeous, and the majority of car drivers know that the bikers are going to be there, so it’s a titch safer than riding other places in town.

For the 24 hour fund-raiser, at least one lane of the roads are cordoned off, so the dangers don’t include traffic, for the most part.

Someone yelled, “Hi, Ellen!”  as I was shooting, and I think I know who it was, but I am not positive, so hi to everyone I know riding!  I salute you!

If you look closely, you can see the Hugh McManaway statue directing traffic for the 24 Hours of Booty in the background.

 

 

 

 

 

30 Days of Summer | Day 8 | Dog Days of Summer

Scooter, I am told, used to not like children.  But while the look still says, “Get your own pile of poop,”  Scooter follows the kids around.  Actions speak louder, Scooter.  He’s like the Ed Asner of dogs.  But fluffier.

30 Days of Summer | Day 6 | The Magical White Powder

Love, love, love me some Baby Mac!  There’s nothing like a good powdered donut on a summer morning.  Except maybe two.  I’ve never seen someone eat their sweets broadside rather than from the thin side.  I guess you make the change once you care if white powder is all over your face.  And table.  And floor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

30 Days of Summer | Day 5

Just to give you proportion, this is the hand of a nine-year-old boy.  And, the hand had been filled with lots of frogs just a half second before.  However, my autofocus takes a half second to zoom in and out on tiny jumping objects.  The boys say one of the ones that got away ended up on the bottom of my shoe.  But I didn’t look.Different boy, different frog, under the picnic table.  The boys said that when the frogs lie on their backs, they are paralyzed.  This one sure didn’t move until the boys picked it up.

 

30 Days of Summer | Day 2

30 Days of Summer | Day 1

I was driving back yesterday from a trip to Lake Waccamaw.  It’s an annual pilgrimage with a girlfriend and both sets of kids.  The lake is big, but only 11 feet deep at the deepest, so great freedom for the children.  Always a good time.  Always great photos.  So, I knew it had to be Day 1 of 30 days of photos of summer.  With baseball lasting forever, and Bryton’s sudden surgery, it really hasn’t felt like summer until this week.  But, summer it is.  We still have 30 days plus a few until school starts.  (sigh)

The Corner of Providence and Providence

I have been wanting to take a photo of Hugh McManaway since it went up a decade ago.  It’s just that there’s always traffic backed up down Selwyn.  Or he’s always dressed up in some sort of costume.  Often it’s a bridal outfit to greet all the wedding guests of Myer’s Park United Methodist Church.  At the holidays he might be wearing a Santa costume or be holding a wreath with his outstretched hand.  And you never can tell when he will have some sort of sign around his neck.  I enjoy Hugh.

When alive, he was a man who directed traffic of his own will… a happy mascot for the Myer’s Park/Eastover neighborhood.  Hugh died in 1989, and in 1999,his friends and neighbors hired artist E. Shaw to sculpt this likeness of him.  I don’t know who the statue belongs to… I sure wish I knew (I would love to use this image in a greeting card I am making, and would like to get permission).  But either way, I am glad Hugh is still there directing the way.

I got up early this Saturday morning, when there wouldn’t be many cars around to be in the background, and shot this photo.  Not too much sun, nice summer foliage, although I did have to jump up and pull some duct tape off of his hat and arms.  Evidentially his last veil had been taped on.

Quail Eggs, Hold the Caviar

Let me start by warning you there are too many quail egg photos.  I know it.  But I am fascinated.  And it’s late, and I don’t edit well what I love, when it’s late.  Right now I am in love with these quail egg photos.

Whitney brought home quail eggs from a photo shoot… he had built some scenery… and he hasn’t cooked them yet, so I have taken them under my wing, so to speak.  First, they are so cute.  Just teeny.  One quail egg fits inside the yolk of a chicken egg.  It’s a perfect bite size.  Plus, what a wonderful shell.  Nature hit them with a speckle stick.  Then, there are all the culinary possibilities… deviled quail eggs, quail eggs with smoked salmon, quail eggs and caviar as an appetizer, quail egg shooters (yes, it’s quite popular), hard-boiled quail eggs on salads, quail eggs poached on toast, I could go on in a Bubba Gump way.  But you get the picture…

 

The Looks that Boys Give | or Boys are from Pluto

My son is foreign to me.  For the last eleven years I have been learning a foreign language.  I don’t always know what he is thinking, or why he does the things he does, but I have loved learning how he and his friends relate.  Boys don’t even have to know each other’s names to be good friends.  It’s about being together and interacting in a way that I wish girls could learn.

Today at the ball field, I enjoyed  when they made great plays, but even more, I enjoyed the moments just after the boys celebrate a good hit or a good catch to end an inning.  It’s those looks they give each other I love.  It’s the moments they don’t know we catch.  After the coaches high-five them and they smack each other with their gloves… it’s the grin.  It’s the shared joke that I’m not in on.  I’m glad I don’t know what they are saying, because I’m sure I give them much more depth than they deserve, but I see ahead to the men they will be and know that even if they forget who won the all-star tournament (not likely) they will have this great group of friends.

 

 

A Celebrity in Our Midst. And We Never Knew.

Dan has always been there.  He was at our wedding, every 4th of July family gathering, all the important life events.  Whitney’s family is big and when I married into it, that was so enjoyable… meeting and getting to know all these sweet, wonderful people.  Dan is just that… sweet, nice, always at events with his wife, Lucy.  Lucy is always there catching up with Dot (Whitney’s Mom).  So, I didn’t feel so badly that Dot didn’t know either.  Or Whitney.  Or almost anyone.  He’s been married to Lucy for almost 50 years.  It’s not like he’s the new guy in the family.

Dan played pro ball for the Braves.  With Hank Aaron.  And other big famous baseball players that I pretended I had heard of, but since I wasn’t alive, didn’t feel too badly that they just sounded slightly familiar.

Word swept around the 4th of July gathering this year.  I don’t know how the conversation came up.  It could be someone was telling Bryton since he was wearing his all-star shirt.  Dan sure isn’t a boasting type of guy if it hasn’t come out until now.  I asked Whitney how he heard.  He said he heard me tell someone.

I googled Dan when I got home, and sure enough, some of the 50 year-old play-by-play was posted with him hitting a home run in one game and batting in four runs in another.  But I never did see his name on an old Braves roster.  Maybe there is more to the story than we know.  He told Bryton that he was released so his salary could go towards Hank Aaron’s salary.

I didn’t get a chance to talk to Dan after I found out he was a celebrity.  We had talked on the 4th about the wonderful Sunday service they had at his church, and how they recognized all the branches of the service including the Air Force, where he had served.  They gave everyone a little American flag, and he tucked it in his shirt pocket.  He had mentioned Westinghouse, where he had worked.  No mention of baseball.

I had encouraged him to move his chair up close, as I could see he was bobbing his head all around the lawn furniture, trying to watch the Tweens play a competitive game of corn hole.

He moved on up and I got this photo of him with the Sunday church flag…