Moving On Up … But Not To The Eastside, Just To www.mysemitruestory.com

After two and a half years on blogger.com, I've decided to pack up my quirkiness and non-award winning photographs. I'm moving on to a new website, www.mysemitruestory.com, and I hope you'll make the move with me.

My entire blog (except for this post) has been moved over. Everything, right down to the photo of the horse sticking his tongue out at me (wouldn't want you to miss my Art).

A majority of the work on the new website is done, but there is still some polishing that I need to do. That is what I'm will spend the next few days doing. Thanks for stopping by, reading and commenting on my blog. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.

Feel free to pop on over to www.mysemitruestory.com and check out my new digs!


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Florida … Um … Art?

As you all have surmised by this point in our relationship, I dig me some Art. Painting, sculpture, photography, music, plays I don't care. I like 'em all. Photography is my current favorite and the one at which I kinda, sorta have the most skill, but I find merit in all types of Art.

While in Florida a couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to take some photos that I think are kind of arty.

I love the beach. I really do. It speaks to me.

That's the thing about Art. It's entirely in the eye of the beholder. What makes my skirt fly up might make another person gag and vice versa. Art is up to the individual.

That being said, will someone please explain to me the artistic merit of this painting that hung in the dining room of our condo?

I just don't get it.


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It's a Plane! No, Wait. It's A … Bird?

While on vacation, my family and I saw the Blue Angels practice a total of two times. We watched the first practice from the Navy Base where I may or may not have entertained a Top Gun fantasy. The second practice we watched from across the Pensacola Bay. It was most impressive.

Since I'd already seen the Blue Angels practice once, I felt confident in my knowledge of this elite flight squadron. I knew the history, the maneuvers, and specifics about the planes. I could have taught a class with all of my knowledge.

No. Not really.

But I thought I could, at the very least, tell the difference between an F/A-18 Hornet and pelican. Turns out, I can not tell the difference between a plane and a bird. And to be completely honest, I confused the two on more than one occasion.

The first time I mistook a pelican for a plane was about six minutes before the practice even started. Something quite majestic arose on the horizon and I excitedly pointed and yelled "Look! It's a plane! Practice is starting!" only to be informed by my 20/15 visioned husband that I was, in fact, mistaken. My plane was a pelican.

See if you can tell which are birds and which are planes in this photo:

Here is a hint:

It's uncanny how much a flock of birds looks like a flock of airplanes, am I right?

Sometimes a single bird can look suspiciously like a rogue plane.

It happened more than once.

Once I figured out how to tell the difference between a bird and a plane I sat back, relaxed and enjoyed the rest of practice.

Hard to believe these guys do this stuff at 400 miles per hour.

And then you realize that some of them do this upside down. To quote TV's Joey Lawrence, "Whoa!".

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Pensacola's Giant Wheel Of Excellence

Behold. Pensacola by day:

Ah … she's a lovely little beach, no?

Behold. Pensacola by night:

See the Ferris wheel? Looks like a good time, right? I coerced my family into riding it with me one evening. While on the ride, I discovered that nothing brings out a latent fear of heights like going on a large Ferris wheel.

To be fair, I shouldn't refer to it as a Ferris wheel. The term Ferris wheel invokes images of a carnival or a County Fair. This? Right here? Is no Ferris Wheel.

There were no swinging metal baskets in which to sit. There were no concern causing sputtery noises coming from a questionable motor. There were no carnies taking tickets and swinging shut your "safety" bar, all while making perfect arcs of spittle and chewing tobacco into the faded Folger's coffee can currently being used as a spittoon.

This, people, is a Giant Wheel of Excellence.

No, I'm not kidding. This Ferris wheel belongs to a breed known as "giant wheels" because they are (you guessed it) bigger than a traditional Ferris wheel. This one has fully enclosed, climate controlled gondolas in which to ride. Climate controlled. As in air conditioned or heated.

Holla.

And special "no glare" glass so as not to muss up your photos with weird reflections and such. As a person who likes to rip off a couple of hundred pictures of the view from atop the Giant Wheel of Excellence while her family completely spazzes out over the height, this detail appeals to me.

The Pensacola giant wheel even has … wait for it … a VIP gondola. A VIP gondola? Yep. A VIP gondola. What is included in this very impressive gondola, you ask? For one thing, it comes with four leather bucket seats.

(Which is four more than my Honda has.)

And a champaign bucket.

(My house does not even have a champaign bucket.)

(To be fair, we usually just grab a bottle from the fridge in the garage and pass it around. It's usually gone before it has a chance to warm up enough to require the use of a special chilling bucket.)

That, people, is a giant wheel of excellence.


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Moony Moony

Have you ever found yourself completely oblivious to what is behind you? You are so focused and intent on your task that you have no idea what is occurring in your wake. For example, you will be facing North and have no idea what kind of shenanigans are happening to the South. This phenomenon happens to me quite often.

(Shocking.)

Sometimes I do glance behind me and most of the time there is nothing of interest to see back there. But on occasion, I am absolutely floored by what has been behind me the whole time I've been so single-mindedly heading in one direction.

I had such an occasion last week. Behold.

The Moon. It was behind me the whole time I was busy trying to create a fabulous photo of a rather blah sunset. I had given up on my sunset photo out of sheer frustration that it lacked the ingredients to make a really great picture. When I turned around to leave, the moon was staring at me from amidst a funky blue and purple sky.

This photo might become one of my favorites. In fact, it will probably end up framed and hanging up in my Room O' Funk.


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It's Like Top Gun, Only Live

Last week was Spring Break for my family. Like last year, we packed up the Honda and headed down south to beautiful Pensacola, Florida.

Unlike last year's eighty-five degree weather, this year we froze our buns off. Okay, it wasn't literally freezing, but temperatures in the sixties and absurdly windy days make for a cold trip to Florida.

Since no one in my family wanted to die of exposure on the beach, we headed to the naval base to watch the Blue Angels practice. The Blue Angels are the Navy's flight demonstration squadron.

Translated: a group of six airplanes that do cool maneuvers at top speeds in the sky.

Now that I'm really thinking about it, it's kinda like Top Gun, only live. I like Top Gun. Top Gun makes me happy. I freely admit to thinking "Ooh, perhaps I will see Maverick and Goose … or at least Iceman and Hollywood here today. That would be pretty sweet."

(It should be noted that I did not see Maverick and Goose. Or Iceman and Hollywood.)

(Phooey.)

The Blue Angels are noted for their "diamond" formation in which all six planes are flying together to form a diamond shape.

These planes are zipping along at over four hundred miles per hour. Think about that. 400 mph. That's considerably faster than we drove on I-65 on our way to Florida.

The loops were pretty impressive. I've always wanted to try something like that, but not in a Honda on I-65.

As someone who finds it difficult to draw a straight line with a ruler, I found it mind blowing to see all five planes fly in a fairly straight, even line.

Towards the end of the practice, the Blue Angels did a signature move in which all six planes flew in a diamond formation with each plane peeling off until only one was left flying on the original path. I don't know if I was amidst a Top Gun fantasy or what, but I missed photographing the first plane leaving formation.

Sorry.

I did manage to pull myself together long enough to get the next couple planes leaving the formation.

Once leaving the diamond formation, I kinda lost track of the departing planes. Well, I lost track of the planes until they each did a very low and very loud flyby over the crowd.

I may or may not have simultaneously jumped, screamed and wet myself a little.

Well played Blue Angels. Well played.

Actually, it was a classic magicians trick: diverting attention from one thing on to another. In this case, drawing attention to this plane over here while diverting attention from the other planes. I should have known that those other planes were getting ready to do something naughty. Like make a slightly doughy, forty year old Midwestern mom wet herself.

The Blue Angels are absolutely incredible to see and I highly recommend that you see them sometime. The whole experience was pretty unique and fab.

Right down to the concession stand.

I do so love an establishment in which one has the choice of purchasing coffee, water, earplugs, or a danish. It's not everyday that one has the opportunity to buy earplugs from a food truck.


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