Some stories

Dead air isn’t really a good look on anyone, let alone on a portfolio-type blog. Let’s try this again, and so much for my resolution about “don’t apologize for not posting frequently enough or all you’ll do is apologize.”

Three things of interest that have happened to me recently:

1. I was waiting for the train at Harvard when an older man tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around with a facial expression of around level five bitchiness to be greeted by a very bright polo shirt and a Southern accent as strong as his shirt was orange. He and his friend were looking for a hotel near a large mall with a Cheesecake Factory and a PF Chang’s. I assumed they meant the Prudential and happily gave them directions once I established that they probably weren’t going to sexually harass or murder me.

It took an embarrassing number of references to their flying in and out of cities for work before I figured out that they were pilots and not just consultants who only went places for very short time spans. They told me to go to New Orleans and to eat at Drago’s while I was there. I will do my best. And if you happen to stumble upon this, pilots, see, I totally remembered.

When we crossed the Longfellow Bridge and they pointed to their hotel on the side of the river we had just left I immediately realized I had steered them wrong.

This is not uncommon for me. I’d really like to be able to confidently give lost people the correct directions but I never do. Instead I confidently steer them in what Google later tells me is the wrong direction.

Luckily they didn’t seem too upset and we were only one stop past where they needed to go, and I hope they made it back before it started to rain.

Lesson learned, ask for clarification or at least search for the name of the hotel before assuming you know where something is. Smartphones exist for a reason.

2. The fattest black and white cat at the cat shelter got adopted. Her name was Nicole and she was the only cat that could be let out at the same time as any other cat without getting combative. Instead she just stared serenely at them, usually from on top of the binder you were trying to write in. Her now-owner started cooing at her from under his hat before we even opened the door. He wore all black and a hat made from some kind of plant fiber and spoke to her in French.

He was going to carry her home, at least a two-mile walk. Luckily the other volunteer drives in and gave them a ride home.

3. Klaus Pichler, of the Skeletons in the Closet photo series that I posted about a while ago, emailed me. Baby’s first PR email! Sadly it got caught in my spam filter and I didn’t see it until recently, but he seems like a polite gentleman who took the extra energy to refer specifically to my post about him. I’m sorry I am so late if you are still mysteriously reading this, Mr. Pichler, and I think your photography is delightful and am perfectly happy to insert this highly transparent plug for your book. If I were at the stage in my life where I could buy photography books and place them the non-Ikea coffee table I will someday own, I would buy it. I hope many other people do. You can purchase it here.


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