A Portriat Speaks 1,000 Words

 The professor that I'm working for is letting his GTFs go crazy this week and talk about our specialties. This could be a big mistake on his part, because I'm going to look at the Presidential Portraits from the last few terms of office. We're talking about Realism vs. Naturalism. For the record, I think these are all Realism, but I find the comparison pretty entertaining. Clinton's is also about twice as big as any of the other portraits and is right across from George Bush Sr's formally-staged portrait. It makes me wonder what President Obama's will be like. Spray paint?

Images from National Portrait Gallery.

Our San Francisco Treat

Last weekend Michael and I met my parents in San Francisco to visit the Harpers. Everything went really well, except for the trip to the airport. Michael's brother-in-law volunteered to drive us to the airport (at 5am, mind you) and while we were busy looking at Portland in the dark (which is very pretty), we missed the airport exit. After circling around a few times, we almost missed it again when Seth decided to go for it! Only to discover a that there was in fact a median between us and the exit. 

Dang. 

The "Incident Response" vehicle saved us since the jack didn't work, but it wasn't quite fast enough. Michael and I ended up being too late to check-in to our flight (even though we were through security and in line at Starbucks before our flight actually left) and the car ended up with some new rims. Sorry about that, Seth and Jen. We actually considered running down a shoddy hill and climbing a chain-link fence to get to the Orbiz next to the freeway. "Can we call a cab and ask them to pick us up on a freeway on ramp?" Oh, dear. Moral: print our your boarding passes before you get to the airport so you can make a run for it, and leave early enough to accommodate popped tires and broken jacks.

At least they didn't charge us and put us on the next flight a few hours later. The rest of the trip was great--even when Michael and I borrowed my cousin's car and drove around the city. Its time like that when I really miss the Utah grid system.

The Harpers whisked us straight to a winery--always a good idea after a stressful morning--and we sat outside in the eighty degree weather. Michael was supposed to be arguing about punctuation in a meeting and I was supposed to be giving a midterm, so we were in rather good moods. Unfortunately, Michael and I did not have a picture where we both look good at the same time on our whole trip. This picture is a Michael fail. 

 

We made it to Muir woods right before it closed. Yes, it is strange that woods can "close." This tree was about 2000 years  old. Whaaa?

Sarah fail. 

 

On the way to Alcatraz.

Lovely, isn't it? I can't imagine how cold it must have been at night. The prisoners would sleep on their elbows and knees to save body heat. Gah.

 The Harpers came to Alcatraz with us! Dick had never been. I guess it takes a tourist to show you the city.

 Ok, this one is actually pretty good. Although, I'm not sure when I got pregnant.

We met my Uncle Dean and his family at the SFMoMA and all relaxed at the sculpture garden. Everyone tried to convince Michael that the San Fran weather was always eighty degrees and clear. 

 The next day Michael and I walked along Chrisy Field and saw all the dogs--there are more dogs that children in the city. I think this shot could probably be on a brochure somewhere.

 Extreme Sarah Fail. I told you there weren't any good couple pictures. Maybe I could photoshop in a new head. I like my new bangs, but there supposed to be sweep-to-the-side bangs, not in-my-eyes-promoting-a-grimace bangs.

San Francisco was lovely. My only regret was that we had to go home. Thanks family for hosting, transporting us to the airport and saving us from grad school for a couple of days!

A musical mystery

Don't you think Ben Folds is secretly a Dr. Seuss character?
 

 

PS- this is my favorite Ben Folds song right now, if you care to listen.

It's Amanda's BIRTHDAY!! Woooo!

 This was Amanda's birthday a few years ago. It would be nice if we all lived in the same place. Maybe we could have a Skype party.

There are lots of ways to commemorate Amanda's birth. I could simply mention all the things that remind me of her (hippos, onion goggles, pig tails, stretchy sweater jackets, Oscar Wilde paperbacks, fresh flowers from Lee's, black necklaces, Batman, pretty hands, looong sentences, class notes with random words that have been traced over multiple times, big paintings, slip-on sneakers, midnight poetry, and pajama pants that are too short), or talk about how much I miss her, but I'd rather just say thanks.

Thank you Amanda. You're my secret weapon against the world, because I talk to you in my head all the time. You always give me great advice, by the way. I think one of the best things about you is that even though you're pretty responsible and all that, you never lost your imagination. So when I talk about something that could happen someday, like getting married or reading more Russian novels you get all excited. You're all filled with genuine happiness at the thought of me reading. a. book. That's crazy...and wonderful. You're my favorite person to plan and dream with and I love telling you good news, because I think it really makes you happy. Well, I'm touched by your caring about my life--it means a lot. I honestly think you would be embarrassed if you knew how much I talk about my "best friend who's in this super cool toxicology program in NY" (usually to strangers).

Anyway, I'm really happy that you were born and that we ended up living across the hall from each other. I can't wait to see you, I hope I'll get to this Christmas, eh? We'll have to walk through a cemetery, for old time's sake. I'm so proud that you like me. Love you.

 PS-I have a million pictures of you (in most of them we both look ridiculous). I picked a few.

 

 

 

Bed-shmed

I thought I would share this video from a few weeks ago. Michael and I were just eating chocolate chip pancakes in the shape of Starwars figures (as usual), when we discovered something...

I know he's a little hard to see, but his little face is so cute in the last frame.

Jump! Jump! (Part 2)

Second case study: Beach trip with Mandy

Michael is horrible at taking pictures with my camera. He's actually shockingly bad. When Mandy and I were on the Oregon coast last year, waiting for the rest of the group to finish exploring, we decided to have the perfect jumping picture. But, we asked Michael to take it and this is what we got. 

 PS- look at Mandy cheating, trying to get some height on me by using the curb...

Every time, Michael? Really?

This is the best one. Pitiful.

I tried to show him how it worked, so Michael replaced me. And then, out of nowhere, Michael did some sort of aerobic drill team move.

 

Michael tried again after my lesson, assuring us that he'd get it if he just had one more chance. This is what we got:

Look familiar?

We began to look for a different tactic--jumping off a picnic table. Genius! 

Yeah, that totally worked.

And thus concludes my jumping picture series. I hope all of you fail too.

Jump! Jump! (Part 1)

I watched Mrs. Doubtfire last night (I know, I'm radical person) and was inspired by the party scene where they listen to the '90s classic "Jump Around"--you know, while the goat eats the cake. Anyway, I remembered a blog plan that I had about six months ago, when my friend Mandy and I tried to take a jumping picture.

I hate jumping pictures, they're so cliche and totally trendy, you might say.
Well, go away because this is my blog. Also, you probably can't jump. I'll now offer you a comprehensive guide to jumping pictures.

The best part of the jumping picture is when you miss it. Face it: that slightly squated pre-jump position is not flattering, the hair-in-the-air landing shot isn't anyone's best look. More on that later...

My sister and I have completely mastered the self-timer jumping shot. Although, she sometimes looks like a baked potato. Rusty's good at it too.

PO-ta-to! Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew.

I got good at jumping in France a few years ago, see my header thing for a good example. I offer you a few case studies. Here are Derek and I, killin' it:

And now... Jackson, staring at the ground like a raging doofus:

And now... Jackson, completely blocking Derek and I.

Because this is turning into an unnaturally long post (I guess I have a lot to say about jumping pictures), I'm going to end it here and offer you a new case study next time. Here's a preview: