My.Third.Eye Photography

Fallen Leaves, Frisco-Style! by Jane Underwood/My.Third.Eye Photography | Make Your Own Book

Over a year ago, I was playing around on Blurb (make your own books site) and came up with this little book of my own. I bought a copy for myself, then went off and forgot about it. Today I was catching up on looking at some of my Flickr contacts' work, which led me to look at some of THEIR books on Blurb. That's when I thought, "Oh right, I made a book myself. Did I make it public? Is it for sale? I can't recall." So I looked it up and no, I had never bothered to make it public or put it up for sale.

Why not? Can't hurt to try. So now it's public. :-)

St. Paul's Steeples, Noe Valley

And there's my Bernal Hill in the background. I took this photo while walking home after having a bone scan at UCSF hospital at the corner of Castro and Duboce. It was a loooong walk, up hills and down, from there back to Bernal, but I was afraid of riding the bus. I didn't know what it would cost, it had been so long since I'd been on a city bus, and I feared I wouldn't know how to put my money into whatever kind of machine was there to take it. People would be waiting for me to dig through my purse and pockets looking for the right combination of bills and change, then waiting while I tried over and over to push a one dollar bill into some slot that kept pushing it back out...or some other equally frightening and flustering mechancial experience.

So I walked. But I can't decide if this shot is better in color or black and white.

American Freeway, California

I took this photo on the way from San Francisco to Santa Barbara, where I had a doctor's appointment. Jack and I left at 7 a.m., got there at 1:30 p.m., went to the clinic, parked, ate lunch in a corner cafe next door to the clinic, saw the doctor, got back in the truck, and drove another six hours back to San Francisco.

It's been a long time since we've gone on a "road trip." This is the closest we've come since, oh, probably when we drove to Death Valley to see Marta Beckett perform. That was one of the best best best trips I've ever taken. Pretty much perfect in every way. The road trip was perfect, Jack was perfect, every part of Death Valley that we got to see, from gullies to dunes to wildflowers to endless sky was perfetct... and one-of-a-kind inspiring amazing Marta Beckett in her tutu, still on her toes at 80 years old, and hilarious Willet in his gold-sequined bowler hat (or bonnet), and the wild peacocks and our ancient ghost-filled hotel room with Marta's murals painted on the walls – all of it was perfect.

So anytime we get in the truck for more than a couple of hours, I get the road trip bug and can't stop thinking about how fantastic it would be to have at least three months straight to just roam around the United States, either in the truck and stopping at motels and inns that allow dogs...or renting an RV. We'd go see Wentzel in his rural home outside of Philadelphia, and Jack's family in New York and on Cape Cod. I'd look up relatives I barely even know and go to see them, in Georgia and Tennessee. I'd try to find the houses I lived in, in San Bernardino, when I was seven, eight and nine years old. I'd go back to Derby, Kansas where I lived from ages 9 to 15.

But mostly we'd just roam, often with no particular destination in mind. I'd find a new photo obsession, maybe. Or who knows, maybe I would continue with leaves. Or both!

And of course we'd go whereever our children were: Detroit, Montreal, NYC.

And of course we'd listen to all sorts of new music and weird radio shows. Oh it would be heavenly, and after three months we'd be aching to come home.

Views from the Embacadero, San Francisco

 

Delancy Street Restaurant, San Francisco

Holiday Commuters

Out and About - No, Not More Leaves!

Full Moon Over Bernal Heights

Was yesterday a full moon? "Jack? Was yesterday a full moon?"

"I don't think so. I don't know."

If yesterday had been a full moon, I could blame things on that. For example, not remembering to do my daily write. Fine, then I'll blame things on my other sore rib. Turns out I did fracture a rib. It has finally almost healed after more than eight weeks. But yesterday, on my OTHER side, I suddenly, out of nowhere, felt as if I had injured another rib. It felt really sore. Hurt to touch and hurt to breathe. Just like before.

I am so pissed, but more than that, frustrated and nervous. Why is this happening again?

If yesterday had been a full moon, I could have blamed my lack of gratitude on that. But yesterday was not a full moon, so I am blaming this sore rib instead.  I want to feel grateful, not pissed. But something is amiss. The bone scan, I suspect, is not telling all.

Full moon, full moon, full moon. Whenever you were last here, you were so beautiful.

Three with Blue

First one is an abstract shot of our living room armoire, much uglier in reality than in this photo. Second one is a macro shot of the side of a dumpster. Third one is a combination of two photos -- a window shade and a ceiling that had swirling rust colored curves painted on it -- layered into one photo. Then I reversed the colors.

Now I'm going to get busy creating a lesson plan for my fifth and last Tuesday night class, "I Want to Write BUT...". I have only the haziest of ideas for what to do, because I find it so difficult to narrow down hundreds of possibilities/possible approaches/possible angles . . .  into only three or four writing exercises plus a few well-chosen words and examples. When the class ends, I will rush home to try and get to bed asap (by 10:30 p.m.) in order to get up really early and drive to Santa Barbara for a doctor's appointment at 2:30 p.m., then we will drive back the same day. A packed week coming up, filled with teaching, driving, doctors, infusions, more doctors, and many impending medical decisions, which I will be writing about (in teeny tiny increments) in my other blog, My Great Breast Cancer Adventure.

I'm also awaiting a phone call from a potential new subletter. Hard to believe we've been subletting our "guest" room for more than a year now. We started doing it last October because we needed the extra money. Still do. So we live with a stream of strangers, revolving-door style, a new one every one to four months. The current one is rarely around, our ideal subletter. Almost a ghost. Is getting back together with his wife/child, and thus has ended up spending more time there than here. The one prior to the current one was an adorable young Frenchman, the same age and name as my son. He too was rarely around...worked very long hours every day and often Saturdays too. Then went out on Sundays. Guillaume. He had such a cute accent.