Last day of the week before staff development day. I went to the store and spent $30 on produce for tomorrow's (hold breath) poetry lesson, produce that includes eight Grāpples - something Mike and I haven't even gotten to splurge on yet. (He made such a face of happiness before I ended my sentence with "but, they're for the kids, so I've left them in the car.")
If you're tsking at me for buying those literature books (see last post), please consider this receipt for five varieties of apple (plus Grāpple) when weighing my soul.
Speaking of those books, the district's classroom supply card did not work for the one used book. Fair enough - it was more of a "read this when you need a little commiseration then go back into the trenches, a little less isolated" type of classroom supply than a "read this and share directly with the kiddos" supply, like the Asimov. I tried to buy hope instead of white-out and paper clips. That's what happens.
But, this means that the card may not work for the regular Amazon order, either, since I think(?) they process payment when shipping. If so, steel yourselves for some bawling. English teachers need books! We are so much less fussy when spooning our paper pacifiers.
Speaking of books and school, via MF I found out about this post, an exploration of the little-known ruin that is Detroit's school book depository.... which led to me having all kinds of thoughts about my childhood in Michigan and how it primed me for a lifetime fascination with ruins. (I'm from the burbs, but the historical burbs.) My mind needs to reach back sometime and remember some of those childhood expeditions into the burned out homes and factories and zillions of dusty/crusty antique stores. (Let's just say that my father found his lumber in the most interesting of places.) Anyway, check out the post if only to see the tree growing in a slushy pile of ruined, 20-years-abandoned textbooks.
Thanks to that post I also now have the HDR bug. In short, HDR involves taking pictures at three or more exposures and combining/toning for dramatic effect. Photoshop even has an automatic "Merge to HDR" feature - who knew?! (Probably everyone but me.)
So, I was looking at photos like this, drooling, and I just had to run out to the balcony to start experimenting. (Running out to somewhere with actual scenery would've been better, but you can't be choosy at 4 p.m. when bedtime/naptime is minutes away.)
Alas, the mini-tripod wasn't finding purchase, the shutter release cable was throwing fits, and it just wasn't the right time of day to really capture the, er, beauty of the nail salon in the strip mall, which is all I can see now that development blocks most of the mountains.
(Hey, Sunday is the three-year anniversary of my arrival. Below is the balcony view from the first day. Said view has since been replaced with more houses, part of a school, a warehouse of sorts, and a shopping center. And, the road is now three paved lanes in each direction with a median.)
(Note that some of the mountains are hidden by clouds. It's a layered look!)
So, my first experiments in HDR were so MEH that I permanently deleted the files (and keep in mind that I normally keep and backup everything, even white balance shots), but I'll give it another go when out in open country. (Darnit, does this mean I'm finally going to be like the big kids and start shooting everything in RAW? Does "more memory cards" count as a classroom supply? Are you sure? Because I think they sell them at Office Depot... Meanwhile, here's the main tutorial I'm using, and this overview is also quite useful.)
But we were speaking of Dinan. At least, that's what the title of this post says, and I'd rather work in Dinan here than make a new post. So many clicks...
I was sure we'd already had a postcard of Dinan, because I remember talking about my French penpal from Dinan, back in 1981 or 82. But no, no matches. I hate being (consciously) repetitive, so I won't even mention her again, she whose name I've forgotten. (But, have I ever mentioned how much I like it when other people repeat their stories? It's so reassuring to know I'm not the only one who forgets whose been told what. When I smile and nod at these people telling me the same story for the fourth time, I'm distracted by all the yellowy sunshine in my veins.)
Postmarked 8-8-89, mailed to Fam. Hurstman, Papaverweg 86, 8042 EJ Zwolle, Pays-Bas.
The Basque country! Oooo.
Alas, it looks like more Dutch. Or, Basque. (+!) Or a Czech-Dutch mix - lots of the y's have lines over them, but maybe the Dutch do that? (Hehe. Czech mix.)
"Lieve oneurs,
"Een tweede beu chtje ent Dinan. Wy zyn nog steeds op dezelfde camping. Deze weck ver treh ken we hadr een camping richting Ned. Het weer blytt goed, nog madr twee beuvlhte dagen gehad. Saint. Mabo, lut strand en de angerrng is morr, maar de afstanden groot. By de volgende camping bellen we.
"Tot viens. W.M.B.E."
Babelfish says, "Kind oneurs, Second tired chtje ent Dinan. Wy zyn still on the same camp-site. These can far treh know we hadr a camp-site direction Ned. The blytt well, still madr summon two beuvlhte have. Saint. Mabo, lut range and the angerrng are morr, but the distances large. By ring the next camp-site we. To viens. W.M.B.E."
P.S. This is the first card I've actually quite liked in awhile. "Would buy in real life. A+++!"
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