Ploafmaster General

These household objects wrapped in cross-stitched patterns are extremely my aesthetic. (via Colossal)

Back in January, having seen ads in my Instagram feed for a while, I caved in and ordered one of these totally sweet (okay, totally tacky) jackets in gray:

  <a href="https://icecoldlmnd.com/products/kodak-light-windbreaker" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/04/b801d-jacket-gray-xs-kodak-light-windbreaker-ice-cold-lmnd-streetwear-6115500916779_1080x.jpg" alt="" /></a>

"Ice Cold Lemonade", it turns out, is probably some shell company reselling cheap goods from China at a profitable markup. No big deal, I guess. I didn't pay much for this jacket at the time. I got my tracking number and waited a few weeks for the jacket to make its way through China's postal service and into the USA.

When the USPS tracking system told me it was delivered to my front door, I was pretty upset to discover that it wasn't actually there. I don't have a history of package theft in my neighborhood, but in recent months, I’ve had some occasionally crummy mail delivery service. Judging by the number of mail pieces delivered to my house for an address with a similar number or one block over with the same number, I assumed the same may have happened with my package. The best USPS could do was to "open up a case", which was effectively a dead end. By late February I’d written it off as a loss.

But I still occasionally saw marketing emails from the seller advertising the jacket, and I still really liked it. So this past week I did the unthinkable—something I never do—and bought it a second time. Order confirmed on Thursday, tracking number from China's mail system on Friday morning. I even remarked to a coworker on Friday about how unlike me it was to repurchase a lost item.

SO OF COURSE I get home on Friday to find that, nearly four months after the original order (and the day the new order has already shipped and can therefore no longer be cancelled), a weathered package from China has been left on one of my porch chairs. This thing looked like it had sat on an unknown neighbor's porch the entire time it was missing, but the contents inside were unsullied. So yeah, I felt pretty stupid right away, but I was also excited to finally receive the original order.

I tore open the package and things got weird before hitting me squarely with the stupid stick once more. I'm a big dude, so I ordered this jacked in the largest available size: 3XL. A puffy-cut windbreaker-style jacket of that size should have been just fine. Why, then, did the tag inside this garment say 5XL? I wrote it off as a difference in sizing between countries. I tried it on, and I'll tell you that this jacket may not have fit me when I was wearing XL garments in my youth.

I felt bad enough when the missing package showed up the very day my replacement order shipped. I felt extra stupid when I realized the redundant jacket won't even fit me when it gets here.

This whole experience has been deeply humiliating, but I figure I might as well share the story publicly so that I can move past it. I think I'll eventually laugh about it; not so much the wasted money and poor decision making as the crazy timing—the when and how I discovered my folly.

I'm a "come here" in Richmond, Virginia, even though I’ve now lived in this city for over half my life. And so I have an outsider's perspective on some of the Old Richmond traditions in a way that outsiders to any community do. I don't think most folks outside of my birth state of New Jersey know what a proper hard roll is, and they probably wouldn't understand why I care so much if they ate one. They don't have years of life experience, family memories, and community nostalgia to support what might be an otherwise unremarkable thing.

Sidebar: the “hard roll” (not to be confused with the similar kaiser roll) seems to be so intimately linked to the pork roll, egg, and cheese sandwich that I find it nearly impossible to find a useful link to explain them. Nearly everything I see from the past few years are worthless Pinterest lists or forum postings about Jersey natives lamenting the disappearance of our favorite breakfast bread. Some things can’t even be preserved on the Internet, it would seem!

I similarly don't see much to celebrate around The Dairy Bar or Legendary Santa. I mean, I get why they're special for people who have shared milkshakes with grandparents for generations or whose family has visited with Legendary Santa back to the days of Miller & Rhoads on Broad Street. But the rest of appeal is lost on me. This weekend, however, my wife and I shared a little bit of Old Richmond with our kids that carries as much wonder and joy for outsiders as those who grew up in the region: a movie screening at The Byrd Theater.

A friend of ours invited us at the last minute to catch a showing of The Lego Movie 2 late in the afternoon, and we were game for it. Both of our children were completely awestruck by the interior as their eyes adjusted to the low light, and my daughter kept asking whether it was a "play movie theater" (comparing it, I imagine, to the Carpenter Theater where she saw The Nutcracker this past December). Even better, and unexpected for the afternoon showing, was the performance from Bob Gulledge on the Wurlitzer organ coming out of the floor.

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="1440.0"]<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/puddintain850/42549685255/" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/04/9ee8b-byrdorgan.jpg" alt=" Adapted  from Flickr  under the  CC BY-SA 2.0 license . " /></a>  Adapted  from Flickr  under the  CC BY-SA 2.0 license . [/caption] 

Valerie and I are no strangers to the organ or the theater—we’ve even participated in the pre-It’s a Wonderful Life sing-along. But it was a new kind of joy to share a little bit of this old town with my kids. I even forgot the terrible seats for most of the movie :-)

[caption id="" align=“alignnone” width=“2500.0”] Sailboat locked behind a fence in the Northside, shot on Kodak’s new Ektachrome E100 slide film. [/caption]

I made a silly:

  <img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/04/aa18f-tomas-de-tacomada.jpg" alt="" />

Behold the Taco Grand Inquisitor, aka Tomás de Taco-mada, leader of the Tex-Mex Inquisition.

An old 1960-something Checker Marathon, more familiar as a classic checkered yellow taxi cab through the 1980s. I hunted around forever trying to identify this thing, comparing every American (and many European) make, model, and year in the 1950s and pouring over photos of hubcaps. I was stuck in the 50’s because most of the stylistic elements on this body (flared rear fender, roof line, hubcap style) were only around between around ‘51 and ‘55.

Then, of course, my brilliant pal Phil took one look at it and realized exactly what it was: an old sedan from the Checker Motors Company. I should have asked him from the beginning and saved myself more than a few hours of research :-P

[caption id="" align=“alignnone” width=“2500.0”] A well-protected Mister Softee truck photographed during the golden hour on Kodak’s new Ektachrome E100 slide film. [/caption]

[caption id="" align=“alignnone” width=“2500.0”] An old Ram 250 on Kodak’s new Ektachrome E100 slide film. [/caption]

I drink everything pretty fast. Doesn't really matter whether it’s milk, water, beer, or a Tom Collins. If you’re a server at my table in a restaurant, don't bother asking—yes, I would like more to drink, thanks.

There's no beverage I drink faster—nay, chug—quite like unsweetened iced tea. I know it’s better for me to drink unsweetened tea anyway, but I just happen to like the taste. It’s what I want the most after mowing the lawn (even more than a High Life or a good kölsch). I can drain a quart of unsweetened tea in under 10 seconds if I'm truly thirsty.

I'm not picky about the brand/variety when I'm thirsty, but given the choice, I like Japanese teas - they tend to be more earthy and vegetal than Western palates prefer, but they tend to quench my thirst a bit more effectively. Ito En is a solid, common brand I see at ramen shops and Asian groceries, and my office has been carrying some of their teas in our beverage cooler for some time now.

One of my increasingly favorite products is the Ice-Steeped Cold Brew green tea. It's milder than some of the other products (not that I mind) and has a little less caffeine (that I do mind just a little :-P), but what strikes me the most is the aroma. The taste is in line with the above, generalized description, but this tea has a strong, uncanny aroma of honey. Bottle after bottle. It's intoxicatingly sweet-smelling, and provides a nice contrast to the flavor profile. This isn't sponsored (as if...), I just love the stuff. If you like unsweetened tea, find it. And give it a sniff!

[caption id="" align=“alignnone” width=“2500.0”] Shot this on new Kodak Ektachrome E100 underneath Wrightsville Beach Pier back in December. [/caption]

The following photos are a long time coming, but last October I took Maddie on her first camping trip. It was all part of a problematically-themed YMCA program (though I'm happy to report they're ditching all the problematic parts starting this spring), but it was a great way to introduce her to sleeping in a tent outside in a low pressure environment: a daddy-daughter group excursion to a YMCA camp facility.

It was a resounding success. You can just see it in her face in that black and white photo—a twinkle in her eyes and the hint of a smile almost visible above the lip of her rain jacket, standing there in the drizzle.

  <img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/889f2-e100_camping102018_012.jpg" alt="" />

Despite 40ºF overnight temperatures and howling, gusty winds, my daughter instantly loved the whole camping experience. Whether it was sleeping in a tent, or spending an entire day outside, or simply poking at a fire with a stick, I saw a child in her element. We get to do the whole thing over again in late April, and we're both pretty excited about it.

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/2fb82-e100_camping102018_008.jpg" alt=" I shot this all on my first roll of Kodak’s new E100 slide film, by the way. And I am  loving  the colors. " />  I shot this all on my first roll of Kodak’s new E100 slide film, by the way. And I am  loving  the colors. [/caption] 




   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/d818a-e100_camping102018_005.jpg" alt=" You’d think she was about to try some improvised spear-fishing… " />  You’d think she was about to try some improvised spear-fishing… [/caption] 




   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/239cd-e100_camping102018_023.jpg" alt=" They even had a station for the gals to make their own tie-dyed shirts! " />  They even had a station for the gals to make their own tie-dyed shirts! [/caption] 




   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/eb6a8-e100_camping102018_016-edit.jpg" alt=" Poking at the fire with a stick really was one of the group’s favorite activities. " />  Poking at the fire with a stick really was one of the group’s favorite activities. [/caption] 




   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="2500.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/c717a-e100_camping102018_021.jpg" alt=" Even with my careful slow-roasting method, Maddie isn’t much a fan of toasted shmallows. " />  Even with my careful slow-roasting method, Maddie isn’t much a fan of toasted shmallows. [/caption]

I recently mentioned Fire & Hops Pizza Co. on this site writing about the "craft" pizza + "craft" beer non-trend I've noticed around Richmond, VA. Well this week I took the time to give it a try. Short version? It was good, and I'd like to go back for more.

I'm no beer expert, but if beer is in (or implied by) the name, I expect to see a variety on the menu. I saw a few reliable favorites, but it was Bingo Beer's lager that caught my attention, and proved to be the right drink for my lunch options. I tried some of their house-made mozzarella sticks (tree trunks, really) which were delicious, but definitely intended for sharing. I feel like we used to see more batter-dipped mozzarella sticks in my youth, but if they're going to be breaded, these were great. I had one and shared the rest with my family at home.

The main event for me was pizza, and my standard practice is trying out a "plain" pie when I eat at a new place. While I think I could have ordered a shredded cheese-topped red pizza from the build-your-own option, the Margherita was the true basic choice since Napoletana pizza is clearly the intended style. And you know what? It was tasty. I gave honest feedback to the...owner? GM?...when he asked; I think a Margherita shouldn't have so much cheese (it has a tendency to all come off at once), and I prefer the fresher, less wilted taste and texture you get when the basil is added post-oven. But the pizza tasted good, and that's what matters most. Flavorful, chewy crust that held its structure without being too thick, just enough simple and tasty sauce, and a bit of leoparding on the bottom.

I'd like to go back and explore other parts of the menu, and even some of the other house pizzas and toppings. A number of the pasta dishes really caught my eye as well. I think next time I'll bring the family.

Here's a shot from my first roll of Cinestill's BwXX film, which is basically Kodak's Eastman Double-X cinema film loaded in 35mm still cartridges. I didn't know whether I'd like this stuff all that much, but it's gorgeously silvery, and the highlights have a soft glow on some of the brighter frames.

So this is Wilson from back in October 2018, just chillin' on the sofa. And I finally sent my film back to good ol' Praus Productions up in Rochester, and I'm sure glad I did. They did a fantastic job on this and some othe rolls. I did a little pre-scan histogram adjustments, and didn't have to do much else other than remove a few specks of dust in post.

At any rate, this is still $10/roll straight from the source. For my preferences, I'd get a similar look from Ilford's FP4 (even though it's slower film) at a much cheaper price. You could buy a 100' roll for $90 and bulk load, which gets you down to about $5/roll. But really, I don't shoot a lot of 35mm anymore, and this stock is only available in 35mm. So it was fun to shoot, I got some nice results, and I still have 1 more roll to give it another go. But that'll probably be the end of it for me.

My family had the pleasure of brunching at some friends' house on Sunday. For this particular group of friends we're all used to bringing something to share, but with limited time to prepare any food, I offered up a brunch cocktail. The hosts approved, so I decided to make the classic Corpse Reviver №2 using a fine recipe from Saveur. This is a bright, citrusy tipple that works well with rich brunch fare, and it's stupid-easy to make because of the equal portions of each main ingredient. The problem, of course, is that I didn't want to hover over a bar measuring and shaking cocktails instead of socializing. So I went for a batch instead.

Normally this cocktail is shaken and strained into a coupe, so I made a standard cocktail the night before but strained into a measuring cup so I could get a sense of how much dilution I was adding from the ice. Seeing only about an extra ounce-ish of volume post-strain, I figured I'd be safe to stir in some ice cubes to a batch pour to achieve the desired strength.

On the morning of I juiced all the necessary lemons and then added an equal volume of the juice and each of the spirits to my pitcher. I wasn't going to shake 1.5 quarts of cocktail, so I sloshed the whole thing around with a whisk to mix it all together. I brought the whole pitcher to our friends' home along with some small, recyclable cocktail cups, a measuring cup, my little spray bottle of good absinthe, and a zip-lock bag of lemon zest strips I'd peeled that morning as well (the linked recipe above calls for orange zest, but I personally like the way lemon zest's aroma plays with the absinthe a little better).

If somebody wanted a cocktail, I could serve it up in about 30 seconds - mist the inside of a cup with absinthe, add a few ice cubes, and measure/pour 4 ounces of pre-mixed cocktail. Squeeze the zest over the cup and use the peel to give the drink a little stir. All done! The whole thing worked out better than I could have hoped, and I even ended up with a little left over to take home, though I'd better finish that by tonight before the lemon juice loses its zing!

[caption id="" align=“alignnone” width=“1440.0”] This picture is from 2010, but I swear to you she’s barely aged since. [/caption]

Our age in years is less a real measure of development than it is an arbitrary appreciation for round and/or culturaly significant numbers. Teens? Fractions of a century? Marking the decades? "Middle" age—whatever that means? Sure.

But 80...well, that's a long, full life. And I'm super fortunate that my grandmother (mom's mom) celebrates 80 years on earth today. Most of my family calls her "Jammie" (courtesy of my youngest brother when he was a bambino), and this spectacular woman is one of the best people I know.

I spent what feels like half of my childhood at her home by the Jersey Shore. I never realized until I was significantly older how much that time was a shield from the turmoil of my parents' divorce, and a point of access to resources and activities we otherwise couldn't afford. Time spent at Jammie's house was time basking in familial warmth - a warmth that spread through her descendents, an animated, humorous warmth that is one of the hallmarks of my maternal family. For 8 years she taught me to play the piano and instilled a love of music and learning that I carry to this day.

I'm also fortunate that my grandma is in reasonably good health at this age. She's been able to welcome many great grandchildren into the family, and it's conceivable that she could live to be a great-great grandmother, depending on whether/when my oldest nephew has any kids of his own. I smile thinking about the impact and influence she's had on her own expanding family and the countless students and parents she taught and interacted with back in New Jersey before she retired.

Happy Birthday, Jammie. I can't wait to treat you to a nice meal on Saturday.

...if you stop any frame it looks like a [comic] panel.

—Patrick O'Keefe, one of two art directors on Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, via Polygon

I've seen variations on that quote all over the place, and I completely agree. Frame by gorgeous frame, Spider-Verse is a comic book in motion. But it's not just the gorgeous comic book homage that makes this one of my favorite movies in recent years. Of course Spider-Verse deserved its Oscar for Best Animated Feature. But I feel like that's one of two narrow lenses through which people view this movie even if they're a fan: it's a cartoon (however innovative), and it's a comic/superhero movie (however different from the MCU).

I could gush about so many elements of this film (The voice casting/acting! The humane dialog! The production design! The soundtrack! The sound design! The New York-ness of it all!), but I want to draw special attention to the "physical" performances. The animated behavior and characterization of people (or pigs, or robots) in Spider-Verse is what makes it a motion picture and not just a series of comic book panels. In comic books, single panels have to do a lot of visual heavy lifting to convey emotion and subtext. Spider-Verse has plenty of individual frames that could do the trick, but the animators really used the whole medium to create natural and affecting movement that supported the truly excellent voice performances.

One of my favorite examples is when Mile Morales listens to some quotidian Spider-Man advice. Sure, you could pick a great still frame to get a sense of how he's feeling:

  <img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/e99bc-milesdisgust.png" alt="" />

But when you combine an animator's characterization and a whole team's understanding of how people emote, you can see Miles' disbelief transition into disappointment and disgust:

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="480.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/0ffaa-milesdisgust.gif" alt=" “Anything else?” " />  “Anything else?” [/caption] 

The still frame points us to the emotional response. But the movement—that simulated physical performance—helps us feel it through slumping shoulders, half-rolled eyes, and a subtle head shake.

Another great example happens when alt-universe Peter B. Parker arrives at the high-tech hideout of the story universe's Spider Man. Just look at how over-it he feels in a single frame:

  <img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/5319f-peterdisgust.png" alt="" />

The performance really sells it, though. Alt-universe Peter already feels lost and defeated in his own world. Discovering that the story universe's hero had his own Bat—er, Spider Cave, is one more reminder that he'll never measure up to the perfect Parker:

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="480.0"]<img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/03/0bfce-peterpretentious.gif" alt=" “This place is pretentious.” " />  “This place is pretentious.” [/caption] 

These simulated actors with their simulated performances do real work suspending disbelief, drawing viewers into the world of the movie, and connecting with the audience so they have a reason to care about the characters. When I try to figure out why Spider-Verse means so much to me, this is one of the reasons hinting at the bigger picture. This level of cinematic execution and attention to detail is rare (like, Fury Road or Arrival rare) and should be celebrated, and not just because it moves animation forward both technically and aesthetically. Spider-Verse is the result of a huge collection of artists firing on all cylinders, driving toward a common goal. I feel so lucky to see the result.

Sometimes I overthink minor details so much that I interfere with my ability to have simple social interactions. It's a recent problem for me, really. I am so frequently a prototypical introvert that I need social interaction to get going and stay going.

But then a funny thing happened. I'd been a regular at a coffee shop for so many years that I got tired of the thoughtless responses to "How are you?" and "What have you been up to?". I mean, I get why we tend to answer with, "Fine" and "Oh, not much." The greetings themselves are often perfunctory social expectations and so, therefore, are the responses.

My brain won't leave well enough alone. So then I answer every "How are you?" with "I'll tell you after I have this coffee" or some other groan-inducing quip that I'm sure baristas have never heard a hundred times before. And heaven help us both if you ask me what I've been up to. My brain seizes up twice in a row - first trying simply to remember anything recent (this started pretty much after parenthood), and second when I try to provide a meaningful answer that isn't "Not much". It doesn't matter if you're that self-same barista from the coffee shop that just saw me yesterday, or a close friend I haven't seen in months. Invariably I mumble out some stilted response along the lines of "Not a whole lot but that's not necessarily a bad thing when you're just going day to day with kids and school and work and—hey, no news is bad news, right?—and we'll see if I can get up to anything this weekend if the weather plays nice."

I don't even know if it's vanity; I'm not consciously trying to think of clever answers or sound like I always have an interesting story to tell. Anyway.

So how am I? Pretty good, thanks. And what have I been up to? Eh, not much. You?

I don't wear hats. But I bought this hat. When Taber pointed out that Madison, Alabama had a minor league baseball team called The Rocket City Trash Pandas, I couldn't resist.

I am not getting enough sleep.

Every so often I find myself staring vacantly out of the office window. When I catch myself, I wonder how long I've just been standing there like that.

My neck hurts because I've been nodding off while sitting on the sofa while my kids play with trains or legos or whatever. Sleeping on my face at night has exacerbated the pain.

When I'm really out of it, I get cranky/snippy/just plain awful with my family. I'm more likely to snap at people or lose focus when they're talking to me. This isn't unique to my situation; sleep deprivation brings out the worst in any of us.

I don't have insomnia. I don't know whether I have any sleep disorders, so don't go recommending a CPAP just yet. I make my own sleep problems. I stay up way too late on any given night even though I have a 2.5-year-old alarm clock that's guaranteed to wake me between 6 and 6:30 AM. Whether it's reading, playing a game, or futzing around on the internet, I can't make myself go to bed before 11 most nights.

Lately, I have the attention span of a young dog. My consumption of energy drinks has escalated, but I'm not sure whether it's working. Tonight, when my phone reminds me to go to bed by 10:30 in order to get my desired amount of sleep, I will lie to it for the umpteenth time by tapping "I'm going to bed now."

I am not getting enough sleep.

This week was Dr. Seuss Week at my daughter's elementary school, and today they were supposed to dress up as a character from a favorite Seuss story. So my wife helped make a Fox in Socks outfit by way of accessories!

1. A still frame of Daniel Tiger with tired eyes. Caption—in classic Impact typeface—includes variations of "It's you I like...in my belly."
2. The Tree Hugger Challenge: people share videos of themselves hugging trees. One video includes a man chewing on the bark while hugging a red oak. This variant gets 14,000,000 likes on YouTube and 260,000 likes on Twitter. It is taken down from Facebook after being flagged as inappropriate.
3. People too young to have grown up watching Family Matters start sharing childhood photos. They appear to be static images, but after a few seconds, Jaleel White (not in costume, as an adult) slides into frame while the caption, "Did I do that?" blinks at the top of the picture.
4. Brexiting: disenchanted vloggers rage-quitting by live-streaming a video of their camera (or smartphone) being set on fire until the device dies.
5. Office workers start posting their lunch orders for the day with photographs of minor politicians attached—photos taken in the middle of speaking so it appears the politician's eyes are half closed with a gassy, awkward smile.
6. Looping GIF of a cat barfing itself out of its own mouth. The cat has your face.

There sure are a lot of recent restaurants in town with the pizza + beer formula, huh? It's a trend insofar as it seems to be repeating, but not a "food trend" in the way we think about throwing truffle oil on everything or photos of overwrought entremet on Instagram. And how could pizza and beer be a food trend anyway? The #1 fast food in the world paired with America's #1 category of alcoholic beverage barely counts as a formula so much as a common pairing.

Nevertheless, I count at least four restaurants in Richmond that have opened in the last few years whose very names suggest that gourmet pizza and craft beer are the star players. Pies & Pints is a small chain that opened their spot on Broad Street in the summer of 2016. The Hop Craft Pizza & Beer (that's a mouthful) opened up just south of The Fan in April last year with some interesting pizza and a huge retail beer selection. EAT Restaurant Partners, Richmond's peddlers of mediocrity, opened up Pizza & Beer of Richmond (PBR, har har) a month later up the road in the Cary Street Station development. And now Fire & Hops has taken over Stuzzi's old spot in The Museum District.

Are there any others I'm missing that fit this bill? I don't just mean a place like Mellow Mushroom that happens to have loads of taps, or Triple Crossing's Fulton brewpub with their (excellent) wood-fired pizza. If I ever get the time (let's be realistic...I won't), I might search the city's permit system to see whether anything similar is arriving soon. Fancy-ish pizza and microbrews seem like the sort of things that gentrifying developers would love to set up on Brookland Park Boulevard or Hull Street.

What's in a name? I'll tell you what: the potential for ridicule, misunderstanding, preconceived notions, the presence or absence of mystical significance (depending on what you believe)...but most of all, a lack of input from the owner. Most of us don't get to pick our names until we're legally old enough, but all of us are stuck with any potential drawbacks for the name somebody assigned without our opinion or permission.

I read an insightful article in The Atlantic about kids and their involuntary online lives. I was surprised to read about children as young as 7 realizing that so much information about them was available for all to see. My bias is showing, of course, forgetting how much I was aware of the world around me some 30 years ago. I also didn't grow up in a world where my every move from birth to adulthood could potentially end up in the digital town square - without my opinion or permission. The article reminded me of two conversations I'd had around photographing children.

A barista pal at the coffee shop was rather pointed: parents shouldn't be posting photos of their kids on the internet. It wasn't a matter of safety, but a matter of consent. My gut reaction was dismissal because she was in her mid 20s at the time (and folks in their mid 20s frequently think they've solved the world) and had no children of her own. But I didn't have any good reasons for why I disagreed. "Friends and family want to see the photos!" "Everybody does it!" "They'll post far worse things on their own when they're reckless teenagers!" Those are all deflections. It's easy to cling to the notion that I'm the parent, and my kids have no say until they're adults, but I never had to confront some portion of my youth catalogued in public. All my embarrassing childhood photos were in a shoebox in my mom's closet.

The other conversation was with a friend of mine who is a fine art photographer. Much of her grad school work revolved around children not too different in age from those in the article linked above. She told me that she was starting to focus on the notion of consent - whether children could understand the implication of having their image shaped by a photograph, and working to ensure that children were made aware of what was happening and were okay with it.

Let's be clear: I still take photos of my kids, and I still post them on the internet. It's not just the parental impulse to share about your kids; it's the modern, extremely-online impulse to share anything about my life.

But over the past year, I started to notice that my daughter didn't always want her picture taken. And I'm working hard on respecting that. Since her early refusals, I've tried to make a point of asking whether I can take her picture. Here are a few ideas I'm working on in my head to address the situation, some of which come from that Atlantic article.

• Continue asking my kids (my son is almost 3, so I think I can start asking his permission) if it's okay to photograph them.
• Give an age-appropriate explanation to my daughter (who's old enough to understand some of this) about sharing personal information on the internet, and start asking her permission to share photos publicly. If she says "no", I should respect her wishes.
• If my daughter asks me to remove something after the fact, I should respect her wishes.
• I think I need to do some periodic review with my kids as they get older. Minors aren't supposed to be bound by contracts in the United States, and we have laws governing sexual consent, and the consumption of different vices. Not every kid is capable of independent decision making at the same arbitrary age, but I need to accept that my 5 year old may have a very different view of what's okay for me to share than when she's 15.

I don't think of this as ceding parental authority to the whims and moods of my children. My hope is that I model and help them to understand consent in some pretty basic forms now, while their minds are developing. I have no illusions about staving off reckless online oversharing when they get older, but I can at least show them what it means to have some small control over their lives online.

When I think of most men in my family on either side, I'm rather lucky to have a thick head of hair at the age of thirty-seven. By my age, several of my uncles and great uncles had dramatically receding hair lines or significant bald spots on the backs of their heads. My older brother's hair line steadily retreats each year like an army not yet ready to surrender while my younger brother's entire scalp is increasingly denuded with the march of time. My late father's hair line never quite receded, but his hair had so thinned by the age of forty-eight that he had to run sunblock through it in order to protect his scalp on sunny days.

My hair still resembles a sort of natural-grown Brillo Pad, if increasingly gray. And you know what? I looked in the mirror yesterday after a fresh hair cut and realized that I liked the graying of my hair. I could visulaize my enitre head coverd in dense waves of silvery hair, and I welcome its eventual arrival.

[caption id="" align=“alignnone” width=“1080.0”] The Arrogant Rooster [/caption]

My college friend Cassandra Loomis (about whom I wrote in the past) has been painting animals in the style of classic works for many months. Now the above painting, "The Arrogant Rooster", will be part of a group show at the Glave Kocen gallery in Richmond, opening March 1st! I'm happy for my friend, and encourage you to check it out if you're in the Richmond area. And if you're not? You should follow her on Instagram, and see a couple of my favorites below:

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="640.0"]<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Br3HOozFPrV/" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/02/27ba9-navalofficerllama.jpg" alt=" Naval Officer Llama " /></a>  Naval Officer Llama [/caption] 




  <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq7ulT4FuHG/" target="_blank"><img src="https://cdn.uploads.micro.blog/wp-content/149855/2019/02/80678-margaretvanorangutan.jpg" alt="" /></a>