OK - so I take a lot of pictures. Most of them are crappy, but the beauty of digital is that you can keep firing away while occasionally peeking at the screen (a.k.a "chimping") to find the best of the bunch.
Like my old shoeboxes full of 4x6 and negatives of old I always struggle to keep my arms around the every growing library of files. I struggle letting even the bad ones go, never mind the marginal ones so having a program to help catalog and share these files is key.
The simple, cheapest, and I'd argue best tool I've found is Picasa (get it here if you like). Now there are other more full featured picture editors (Photoshop, Paint Shop Pro, etc.) and other library managers (Aperture, Photoshop Elements, etc.) that may offer more features and greater flexibility, but for the price (FREE!) and the level of features that it offers Picasa is really tough to beat.
A simple download and once it starts it automatically begins to catalogue your shots. I can't recommend it enough, and no I'm not on Google's payroll (although I wish I was). Take some time on a rainy Saturday afternoon and go through the video tutorials and you will begin to see not only how feature reach this program is but how easy it is to work with.
Now shut-up and shoot.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Personal Freedoms vs. Kid Names
You know, I can't make this stuff up. If you read the attached article it really makes you scratch your head (makes me laugh as well, but in a twisted way).
On the one hand you're amazed that there are actually people like this out there that think naming their kids these crazy ass names won't somehow hinder them later on in life.
Wouldn't you love to be a fly on the wall when they're sitting there for an interview: "So Joybubbles / Hitler / ToeJam" (take your pick); why have you decided to join our team?".
Can you imagine?
You're pretty much at your parents whim when it comes to names, hair color, and any other determining feature; but as a parent don't you owe it to your kid to at least give them a fair shake with a name that at least gets them in the door?
This story makes me laugh because I picture this whole scenario in my head from the time the kid was born up to his adult hood. It would go something like this:
I mean, sure he's got tattoos all over his neck, but which one of us hasn't gone out on a drunken dare and got a tattoo on our neck or scrotum. And can't you see the love in his Momma's eyes just saying "I love you little Adolf Hitler".
Isn't it safe to say that as a parent we all have secretly wanted to coo that familiar refrain to our newborn son as you put him to bed:
"Rock-a-bye-Hitler in the pill box
When the bombs come the box it will rock
While the box rocks the roof it will fall
And down will go Hitler swastika and all..."
Then in the later years you can only imagine hearing these special words. "Now batting for the Boston Red Sox. The centerfielder #99. Hitler. Adolf Hitler."
Who wouldn't want to hear that broadcast over the loudspeaker at Fenway Park?
Are these people for real?
On the one hand you're amazed that there are actually people like this out there that think naming their kids these crazy ass names won't somehow hinder them later on in life.
Wouldn't you love to be a fly on the wall when they're sitting there for an interview: "So Joybubbles / Hitler / ToeJam" (take your pick); why have you decided to join our team?".
Can you imagine?
You're pretty much at your parents whim when it comes to names, hair color, and any other determining feature; but as a parent don't you owe it to your kid to at least give them a fair shake with a name that at least gets them in the door?
This story makes me laugh because I picture this whole scenario in my head from the time the kid was born up to his adult hood. It would go something like this:
I mean, sure he's got tattoos all over his neck, but which one of us hasn't gone out on a drunken dare and got a tattoo on our neck or scrotum. And can't you see the love in his Momma's eyes just saying "I love you little Adolf Hitler".
Isn't it safe to say that as a parent we all have secretly wanted to coo that familiar refrain to our newborn son as you put him to bed:
"Rock-a-bye-Hitler in the pill box
When the bombs come the box it will rock
While the box rocks the roof it will fall
And down will go Hitler swastika and all..."
Then in the later years you can only imagine hearing these special words. "Now batting for the Boston Red Sox. The centerfielder #99. Hitler. Adolf Hitler."
Who wouldn't want to hear that broadcast over the loudspeaker at Fenway Park?
Are these people for real?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Why didn't I do this sooner?
Fear of failure is why.
In my mind I had this perfect picture of this well defined blog that would absolutely enthrall the masses with it's wittiness and topicality.
It was beautiful and at the same time it all seemed too big and I ran from it.
Well, no more.
I'm going to post stuff up that is on my mind. Sometimes it will be insightful and other times it will be meaningless. But that's O-K, I'm going to enjoy myself and if you get a giggle or two out of it all the better. And if not, you can bite me.
In my mind I had this perfect picture of this well defined blog that would absolutely enthrall the masses with it's wittiness and topicality.
It was beautiful and at the same time it all seemed too big and I ran from it.
Well, no more.
I'm going to post stuff up that is on my mind. Sometimes it will be insightful and other times it will be meaningless. But that's O-K, I'm going to enjoy myself and if you get a giggle or two out of it all the better. And if not, you can bite me.
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