You’re so dreamy

This morning, Tina and I set our alarms for 5:15 a.m., roughly 12 hours earlier than we usually get up and start our days.

We photographed a breakfast event, and had to be on site by 6:45. We were in bed by 10-ish, reading and sipping night-time tea. By 10:45, my light was out, but neither of us could sleep for anything.

Our shoot was a new client, but I wasn’t stressed out. Or so I thought. Between the stress that crept in my mind, giving me weird, unbearable dreams that felt like I was awake and thunderstorms throughout the night, it made for a few hours in bed that felt like a marathon.

In one of my dreams, all of you were there. And we were running from the bad guys. But we were all naked. And it appeared that many of you guys need to lay off the yogurt.


At one point during the night, there was a clap of thunder that resembled applause. It seemed to never end. It was that fart that you let go after holding it on a first date or with a new group of friends. By the time it comes out, you could say the alphabet forwards and backwards at least twice before your sphincter stops flapping.

That thunder scared the shit out of me.

It reminded me of growing up. My room was directly across from my parents’ bedroom. Sometimes at night, you’d hear the loudest, longest gas explosion coming straight from their room.

“Dad!” I would yell making one syllable several.

“That was your mom,” a voice would say.

Laughter would emit from my brother and sister’s rooms, too.

It was the equivalent of our Walton’s moment.

Today’s job was one that required a same-day turnaround, so we got home, and in the most productive way possible, went through the images, culling the bad and improving the good.

When I feel sleep deprived, it feels like my brain is pushing up against my forehead. It’s not so much of a headache as a pressure. And that pressure is irritating.

If you’re un-American, too young, your parents abused you, or you just want to relive a great TV moment, here’s the redundant ending to the TV show, The Walton’s.

You’re welcome.



Lime stalactites


This morning, I woke up again at 4 a.m. It’s been over a week now that I’ve had this early morning wakeup and a difficult time falling back asleep. I eventually fell back asleep, but not before having a paranoid conversation with myself about the possibility of having sleep apnea.

Over the weekend, we went to a dinner party with friends, and one of them had one of those sleep tests to check if he has sleep apnea. He told me all about it in great detail, and I woke up with that on my mind.

You see, I had gasped from my nightmare when I awoke, and I wondered if I gasped because of lack of breath. So then I started working through my memory to find other waking moments to see if they were gasps too. I couldn’t remember, and that lack of memory scared me, too.

Tina and I have regular checkups scheduled for next week. And even though my blood pressure is consistently at or below normal, it freaked me out when my doctor put me on a BP med over a year ago and said, “Change your diet.” Many of you know, I’m not on that medication any longer. Tina and I eat fresh almost every meal, and we watch the amount of salt and other things we eat. We work out as much as we can.

Apparently BP and sleep apnea go hand in hand, according to this conversation we had the other night. I finally let it go after an hour.

The thing that finally put my mind at ease was that I remembered my friend saying his blood pressure was at 200 over 150s. And that shit is SCARY.

Neither Tina or I have been to the doctor in a year or more. We’re on new insurance, and we were waiting for this one doctor to accept our insurance. So now we’re good to go. I’m sure I’ll tell you all about it.

It’s thunder storming this morning. It’s so dark and eerily gorgeous. 

This morning, I took Talulah out to pee. She’s afraid of the rain. So I had to coerce her off the porch by leaving the front gate hoping she’d follow. She followed of course, without a leash, and finally peed. I told her we should have brought soap. We could have killed two birds with one stone. She said, “We could kill birds?”

We laughed and slapped five.


This all reminds me that I had a conversation about healthcare with my old man recently. He reads this blog, and for a second I thought I would change old man to some dude. But, hey, it’s not a big deal. I’m not ragging on the guy. It was a real conversation.

He was saying that Obama Care is bull, and that there are ways for people to get healthcare. From what I heard him kvetch about, he was saying that people aren’t going to be turned away from a medical center for treatment. I couldn’t think of a response on my feet, so I let him talk. But thinking about it again this morning, “getting healthcare” and “paying for healthcare” are two different monsters. Sure, no one’s going to say, “How are you going to pay for us to stitch up this severed aorta? … Oh, you can’t. Okay, have a nice death.”

The problem (in part) is preventative care. It’s giving people the sense of mind that we could monitor blood pressure before it reaches 200 over 150. It’s the idea that we could catch cancer before it riddles the body a death trap. It’s the hope that we can keep our loved ones around because the bills aren’t so goddamn exorbitant, right?

And maybe I misunderstand what Obama care is. But ideally, it’s providing a way for people to pay for insurance that helps them get ongoing, preventative healthcare as well as emergency healthcare.

Secular friendships

Above I talked about a dinner party we went to. At the party, we were a couple from Australia with their newborn, a hetero couple with their two boys, a gay couple with their dogs, and the Wittifinis (Tina and yours truly).

We had a great time. We talked. I took pictures. We had a few glasses of wine. We played games. It’s a diverse, respectful group, and you wouldn’t know it, but there was a great variety of beliefs and ideas among us. I mean, one guy really likes Martha Stewart. I mean, to the point of religious idolizing. I hate Martha Stewart. But we got along.

There’s one person who religiously idolizes Madonna. I don’t like Madonna. Yet we got along.

There were religious people in the group. And there were very non-religious people. Don’t you see? That shit doesn’t matter. Secularism takes care of all of that.

We all had different views, but we’re secular. We know how to get along despite differences in opinions and beliefs. This is what happens in my experiences with my family as well. Most times, it’s secular. And when it’s secular, it’s neutral and fun.

Ahh, secularism. What a dream.

By the way, the photo above was added just to get your attention.