The day I became a photographer (and I use that term very loosely).

I'm a single gal. I like my job ok. I'm not a big social butterfly. And, I don't have a significant other. I don't even have a pet, so finding a fun and fulfilling hobby is almost necessary for survival in this cold, cruel and lonely world. Some join book clubs or take cooking classes or biking...me, I chose photography. Or, rather, it chose me.


I remember it like it was yesterday. I went to the zoo with the kiddos and was snapping away at all the cute things they were doing when, without warning, my attention was drawn to a beautiful fountain. There were frogs and goddesses and nymphs and spouting water (which any fountain worth it's salt should have). For a moment, I stopped making the kids stop mid-play to pose and just took in the beauty of the fountain. I pulled the camera closer to my face, stepped backwards, and began angling the camera and myself to get just the right visual on my LCD. Then...I snapped. It was almost instinctive. Like a cub is born to stalk and pounce, I was born to shoot.


I think Bruce Springsteen has a song about that.


Anyway, I took my camera home, plugged it in and saw this:


I never regarded my camera the same again. From that point forward, it was with me always. Every moment of every day was a potential photo op. I was on a constant quest to find pretty things to shoot..

and keep myself out of as many pictures as possible. (mwah, ha, haha, ha!)