Practice, Practice

A day of panic set in last week when I wanted to reach for my D700 and it wasn't there any more.  I missed it's low-light abilities, it's lightning-fast shutter.  I missed the comfort of adjusting my exposure without consciously thinking through the motions needed.

After a bit, though, the nausea subsided, I read and re-read the good advice from a few great friends who understand my anxiety, and I remembered all of the important reasons behind making this switch to mirrorless.  So now, it's practice, practice for me.  I'm failing more, I'm frustrated more and I'm feeling generally uncomfortable.  Smarter people than me assure me this is a great place from which to grow.  Acting on faith that they are right, I'm going to stress less, shoot more and hopefully start seeing more of the images that exist only in my head come to life on paper.  (When I get around to actually starting this year's family album, of course.)

Meanwhile, please excuse my scattered mess.

 He's getting obnoxiously big for a high chair but none of us can seem to let it go.

He's getting obnoxiously big for a high chair but none of us can seem to let it go.

 Ella, typing up her Student Council campaign speech. 

Ella, typing up her Student Council campaign speech. 

 Our Checkers dynamo.

Our Checkers dynamo.

 What exhausted parents will put up with for just five more minutes of shut-eye.

What exhausted parents will put up with for just five more minutes of shut-eye.

 The Minions were back for another W on Saturday, and this time, they brought their head bands.

The Minions were back for another W on Saturday, and this time, they brought their head bands.

During the game, these two proved to be inseparable.  I had a little trouble focusing on the field, as you can probably imagine. 

 Does this boy look exhausted yet? Nope.

Does this boy look exhausted yet? Nope.

Later that day, it was time for the kids' quarterly shearing appointments.

And that evening, we were off to Aunt Molly's bachelorette dinner.  My stomach kind of hurt, we laughed so much. 

Hopefully, soon-to-be Uncle Clif didn't mind Molly coming home with a few, ahem, souvenirs.