I Told Those Guys What They Wanted To Hear . . . I Said, Uh, Yeah, Sure. But It Was All Lies.

Green Bee Eater, Botswana

So why weren’t the bird photos on the last post my own photographs? I’m a photographer. Believe me, I’m a photographer. Sometimes I amaze myself; though I concede that when you take over 5,000 photos, the law of averages states that you'll get a few dozens great shots. Still, this photography-in-the-tropics thing is different. Very different.

My friends, Maggie and A.Kaye are both artists in every sense of the word. A.Kaye is a professional photographer; but to describe him only as a photographer doesn’t scratch the surface of his talents. Maggie’s artistic skills span all mediums, including video/film-making. Anyway, they are always inspiring to me. Recently A.Kaye and I have had a little eMail discussion about my willingness (or lack thereof) to broaden my use of our very sophisticated camera equipment. Of course I balked. I’m a creature of obsessive-compulsive habit. 

I was sharing this little eMail relay with Rusty when Rusty pronounced that Pinterest would tell me, step-by-step, how to shoot anything I wanted (with a camera . . . I sold my 20-gauge and 300 Win Mag). I replied, sarcastically, I bet there’s even a YouTube video to teach me. Right? Only about 400 million, Rusty announced. Again, creature of habit. Books! I’m a read-a-book kind of gal. You can learn anything and everything from an actual book. What a world, what a world . . . we’re all so accepting of the Internet, and I’m no exception. How are the mighty fallen!

So I said aloud to Rusty that Pinterest is the new heroin dealer. Then I realized that Pinterest is far more powerful with a longer-reaching arm than merely one single drug dealer. 

Dear God, Pinterest is the new Cosa Nostra. 

They supply all manner of ills/vices; are accountable to no one; and creep dangerously, often covertly into your email and personal cyberspace life. Pinterest is an insidious addiction. It will consume you . . . and I've had my first taste of its heroin-Kool-Aid.

This? Why, I Can Make A Hat Or A Brooch Or A Pterodactyl . . . .

Reason number 38 to move to Costa Rica and enjoy more free time:

Pinterest is the answer. 

What was the question?

I lived a happy life until . . . one day my friend Sally spoke one word: Pinterest. Blah, blah, blah. Another Internet site in which I have zero interest. Like Facebook. But wait, Sally insisted, I must show you the miracle that is Pinterest, how it works, and what you can do with it. I patiently, if not enthusiastically observed the demo. So Pinterest was fine for someone like Sally. Someone who has crafty coursing through her veins. Someone who can take an antique ironing board and make art (she really can . . . and that was years before that detestable portmanteau: Pinterest). 

Years pass.