The Blog Formerly Known As Practical Paralegalism
I’m gonna own my backwoods ways, and admit that when anyone admired my outfit today, I immediately exclaimed, “IT CAME FROM THE GOODWILL!” I dunno if they were more shocked by my loud, emphatic pronouncement, or that something this chic came from the Goodwill.
Either way, it’s a win.
Let me explain briefly about all the pictures. I do look rather like a schizoid-type photographer, but I was experimenting with light and exposure today. Also, I am not in love with myself, but I have come a long way from the days (last year) when I refused to be photographed at all. I think my friends and family kinda appreciate that I no longer quietly sneak away from all photo ops.
But I am trying really, really hard to improve my photography skills (constructive criticism and tips accepted). I know The Absent-Minded Professor’s, followed by The Teen’s, photos are the best, but I wouldn’t ask The Teen for a bowl of dry cereal first thing in the morning, much less “willyoutakemyoutfitpicsotheywill beinfocuspleasepleasepleaseplease”.
AMP teaches long hours, and I work long hours, plus I chauffeur The Teen to her many activities, and I huff around grocery stores freaking out over dinner when I’m forced to, so it’s not like there’s much time to practice photography. And self-photography is hard. I take much better pictures of other people, and in fact love to photograph other people, many of whom I’ve discovered don’t want their pictures taken either.
I hope you’ll participate in my Goodwill Goldmine Party, blogger or reader, deadline to email a photo of yourself wearing something from Goodwill – or other charity or non-profit organization store – October 1, to email@example.com. Let’s celebrate the many reasons to buy gently-used clothes, including being thrifty, unique, and chic.
Random unrelated thought: You may not know this but I am crazy about BBC dramas. The Teen and I have recently been scaring the crap out of ourselves by watching Jekyll (only one season, drat). It’s such a delightful psychological terror that The Teen, who’s been to way more horror flicks than me, wouldn’t watch the next episode last night, “because I don’t want scary dreams on a school night.” Right. Gotcha. Fine. I will replay the the first three episodes we already watched, and drool over crazy-sexy-scary James Nesbitt all by myself.