Monday, August 16, 2010

Aaron and Friend (l-r)


Aaron couldn't help but notice the SWC hanging around my neck. He's from Austin, going to college at Yale (studying photography), and spending the summer in NYC. I told him it was my first time taking a portrait with the SWC and was maybe standing between 4-6 feet from him when this other person jumped into the shot. She was friendly, yet I didn't know if they knew each other, or if she was just some random pretty girl needing to be part of the action. Well, she was sort of both, since they were coworkers, beating the pavement to promote a salon (or maybe a spa. it was something geared toward feminine types to sit around and pay for the privilege of being preened and pampered).

I have to say I'm pretty happy with the shot. Even they're in somewhat softish focus, I don't think it's detrimental to the image. I even did a closer crop:


And yes, I know I cropped closely to his closely cropped Robert Terwilliger inspired hairdo (though I think he wears it well).

Cookies. Yesterday was all about the cookies.

Homemade cookies, I believe from scratch, baked by my friends' 10 year old daughter and her friend of the same gender and age. They were the first things cooked at yesterday's get-together. There were a lot of kids at the house. Only three of them belonged to my friends, the rest were neighborhood hanger-oners who decided it was the place to be on a Sunday afternoon. Myself and another friend were up for the day to hang out with the older generation, but unlike the youngsters we didn't run around the backyard hitting tree branches with sticks. We just guessed who would get hurt first.

The boys were clamoring for the cookies when they were done, but the head of the household would have none of it. The privilege of having cookies and Coke went to the adults, guests, and to the issuance of my friends. I stood in the kitchen with a freshly-baked cookie in hand when one of the non-related, non-resident children came to the back door and asked my friend (the head of the household), "Can I have a cookie?"

"Get out of here!" he said.

"But he has a cookie," the boy said, motioning to me.

"I'm forty," I said with as much adult emphasis as possible.

"I'm four-teen," he threw back.

"How often are you over here?"

"A lot."

"Exactly. Go away."

I think I'm finally an adult. I've discovered the joys of throwing around my age, bossing other people's children around. All the while eating my warm, oozing cookie — washing each bite down with sugary goodness straight from Atlanta GA.

Ah yes, the little things...

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