Monday, November 16, 2009

Friday, November 13, 2009

Christmas cards

It's that time of year again, time to think about Christmas cards. I can hear the groans now. I have good news, however. For any families I've photographed in 2009, the card making process is easier than ever. Simply choose 1 of the 5 styles from the list below, tell me what photograph you'd like to use, and let me have the card designed for you. It's easy, and saves you one less errand to run.

If you'd like to have a fresh new family portrait taken instead of using an image from a previous session, call me to schedule an appointment for either in your own home or in studio. The sitting fee is $50.00 either way. But if a client wants to save a little money (who doesn't?), simply coordinate with another family to have your session at the same place at the same time and the sitting fee is only $25.00 per family. I know, I know, it's an incredible deal.


1.



2.

Small Christmas Card (#1 & #2)
Size 4.5 x 6.25
Cards with blank envelopes
25 - $28.28 50 - $37.66 100 - $57.68 Add 25 - $8.96
With print return address on envelope
25 - $33.25 50 - $41.87 100 - $59.86 Add 25 - $9.29


3.

Large Christmas Card (#3)
Size 5 x 7
Cards with blank envelopes
25 - $30.43 50 - $42.90 100 - $70.13 Add 25 - $13.75
With print return address on envelope
25 - $40.99 50 - $54.53 100 - $84.61 Add 25 - $14.03

4.

5.


Folded Christmas Card (#4 & #5)
Size 4.5 x 6.25
Cards with blank envelopes
25 - $52.25 50 - $80.85 100 - $138.05 Add 25 - $29.81
With print return address on envelope
25 - $62.81 50 - $92.48 100 - $152.54 Add 25 - $31.13


*All prices do not include sales tax
**Shipping charges will apply if orders are not to be picked up


So call soon to set up your family portrait session. It may take several tries, (as was the case with our family below) but we'll come away with something that you'll be proud to pass along to your friends and family.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Lunch Date



Yesterday my 4 year-old daughter and I had lunch at my other daughter's school. This is always an interesting experience. Yesterday proved to be no different. I am glad that my little first grader still thinks it's "cool" to have her dad come have lunch with her. Who knows how long that will last. Probably not real long if it goes as smoothly as yesterday.

First of all, it was pizza day. When I was in school that was almost a cause for celebration in my mind. School pizza rocked. However, my stomach turned a little when I saw the 2009 version of this classic menu item. The pepperoni (I assume it was pepperoni) seemed a bit discolored. Perhaps that was due to the pool of grease that gathered atop the cheese. This pizza was quite shiny. If I scraped the cheese off and rolled it into a ball, I feel confident that it would bounce. To say the least, this was not the pizza I recalled scarfing down as if it were God's edible gift to us.

After I got past the appearance of the main attraction, I turned my attention to the side dishes. It was an odd selection to pair up with pizza: carrots, grapes, and Jell-o. I am 34 years old, but I can say with almost certainty that I have never in my life eaten those foods together in a meal. It was almost as if the dietitians did it as some sort of joke. "Hey Margaret, let's see who can think of the oddest menu selection. The winner gets to take home the extra corn dogs."

Seriously? Pizza, carrots, grapes and Jell-o? I had to laugh, but the kids all seemed to think it made perfect sense. From an aesthetic point of view, the meal was quite vivid with colors. I especially liked how the carrots and Jell-o mirrored each other with their orangeness. Beautiful.

And then there were my precious little girl's classmates. Oh boy. For the most part they were well-behaved. Very talkative, but well-behaved nonetheless. The center of attention though was the boy sitting directly across from us. For the sake of anonymity, I'll call him "Roger". Roger was a very active child. By "active" I mean "quite possibly could have been raised by wolves." Sweet Moses.

As soon as we took our seats on the very small benches, it was as if the curtain went up, the lights turned on, and it was now showtime with Roger. He and his buddy sitting next to him, "Phil", entertained each other for the 20 minute lunch period. I viewed Roger to be Johnny Carson and Phil was Roger's Ed McMahon.

Roger asked me if I could guess what grade he was in. "Hmmm, I probably could given the fact that you are in my daughter's 1st grade class," I thought to myself. But I played along anyway.

"You're probably in the 7th grade, right?" I asked.

"Nope. I'm in the 1st grade," he responded.

"Wow, you look very mature," I told him. I'm pretty sure he had no idea what "mature" meant by the quizzical look on his face.

Having heard our conversation, another little girl piped up, "What grade do you think I'm in?" she asked.

"Hmmm...I'd guess you are in the 5th grade."

"Ha, nope!" she said defiantly. "I'm in the 1st grade too!"

At this, Roger looked at me and said the following, "This is the 1st grade table. Everybody at this table is in the first grade. Even my butt crack."

Okay, well thank you for that, Roger.

Phil giggled with approving delight at Roger's revelation. I expected to hear an Ed McMahon-like "YES! You are correct, sir!" but it never came.

Their comedy routine was interrupted by me as my arm caught on the 4 year-olds chocolate milk carton and it spilled all over the table and incidentally her sweater. I knew without question I was going to hear about this from Roger and Phil. Fortunately for me though, Roger was more interested in his declaration to Phil that he "had just farted." This proclamation kept the duo preoccupied while a teacher's aide came over to assist with the clean up.

"We spilled some chocolate milk," I told her.

"What happened?" she inquired.

"Uhh, okay, I spilled some chocolate milk," I said more accurately.

After the clean up was over, the lunch period ended and we said our "good-byes." My 1st grader kissed me and added a sweetly spoken "I love you, Daddy". She scurried off to join the rest of her classmates as they exited the cafeteria.

And we too filed out then. With one arm, I held a sticky, chubby little hand and in the other, a balled up soggy sweater.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Basement Drama


The role that I play in our family dynamic is diverse. My job description is long and varied (just like my wife’s, of course). One particular evening I was called upon to be “The Exhauster”. This duty’s requirement is to engage the kids in some sort of vigorous activity to deplete them of their excess energy. With the help of God, the kids will then tire to the point that they go to bed on time, if not earlier. My wife had a long, strenuous day with the children, or, as she calls it, “just another day”. Apparently, the day’s activities had not worn out our kids like they had their mother. My theory in regards to this phenomenon is that kids have the ability to suck the energy out of adults so that they can use it for their own evil purposes. I’m not exactly sure on the science behind this, but it occurs so often and consistently that it has to be close to being fact.


My wife’s idea was for me to take the kids into the basement to play. It was a logical suggestion. However, I too was feeling tired from a day’s work. The last thing I felt like doing at that point was chasing the kids around in our basement while they screamed and threw things at me.


The oldest daughter spoke up first and inquired as to what splendid game we were going to play. I struggled to come up with some ideas but eventually failed miserably. I asked them for suggestions. They did have some creative proposals. However, they all required me to move. So those were lousy in my opinion.

I happened to look up at the treadmill in the corner of the room. And then the greatest idea of modern times hit me. “I’ll put the kids on the treadmill”, I thought to myself. “That’ll wear these people down for sure.”


And so, I did. I called this game, “The Olympic Time Trials”. The kids responded excitedly to the idea and my oldest daughter jumped and shouted, “Me first!”. I turned on the treadmill and instructed my little Olympic hopeful to keep up with the speed. I in turn took my rightful place on the recliner next to the treadmill. Step after step she smiled with self-confidence and utter delight. After a few minutes, my younger daughter hopped on and again the basement was filled with giggles of excitement.


They then switched places and my oldest daughter demanded that this time we go faster. I thought, “Sweet, this will really quicken the wearing down process. I am a genius.”

I then cranked up the dial so that my daughter was now in a fast jog. She lasted only one minute before she jumped off. “That’s enough,” she said while gasping for air. Her sister jumped on then and again I sped up the machine. But as I did so, my daughter lost balance and stepped partially off of the treadmill. This misstep caused her to then trip which in turn caused her to fly off of the piece of equipment.


The good news was that she did not fly far. The bad news was that she didn’t fly far because the wall stopped her. The worst part though was that there was just enough room between the wall and the treadmill to fit her face. I compare the experience to watching a person have a belt sander run across their cheek. Yikes. Unfortunately, my reaction time was slow and my daughter sustained a large wound. It was ugly. Some might even say grotesque.


I brought my daughter upstairs and we eventually settled her down. Once she stopped crying (and bleeding), my wife inevitably demanded that I explain in detail what had happened. As I recited the story to her, I could see the look of disgust come pouring over her face. It is an expression that I have seen before – often. It’s a look that says so many things, but perhaps most poignantly it states, “I married an idiot”. I disagree. I believe my wife married a man who occasionally errors on the side of efficiency. She needs to develop a fresh, more accurate look that expresses the sentiment, ”I married an efficient idiot.” Lord knows she’s going to get the practice.




Monday, November 2, 2009