Labradoodle & Goldendoodle Forum
It is happening again. I am finding myself caught up in something I can’t control and that is never good for the people in my life. Years ago, my friend and I used to take our kids to family Bingo up at the local Catholic Church. We went one time and I was hooked. In fact, after the first visit, I went out and got myself a Bingo bag, magnetic chips, a magnetic wand, a holder that said, “I love Bingo,” for my tickets, and every color Bingo dauber for the specials that I could find. The next time I went, my husband took one look at my Bingo bag filled with all my stuff and said, “didn’t you just go one time to Bingo?” I responded by saying, “read the shirt,” because I was wearing my new one that said, Get out of my way, I’m going to Bingo!!
In those days Bingo wasn’t so high tech. A few of the special games were played with Bingo daubers and paper cards, but most were played with chips and hard cards. Every 2nd and 4th Friday of the month, we would enter that auditorium with high hopes and I would take one look at all those hard cards to choose from and my adrenalin started pumping. All the hard cards had a number on the free space and after I won once or twice, I kept track of the number on the card I won on and convinced myself those were my lucky cards. Whenever we played, we got there early so I could dig through miles of cards to find the cards with the lucky numbers 909, 911, and 990. I am sure a mother and her two kids frantically digging through cards with the mother saying things like, “I just have to find those cards or I will lose.....if you kids want any refreshments, you had better find those cards,” did not appear compulsive or odd to anyone. In my defense, I might add that not once did the priest or child welfare step in and suggest that I may have a slight problem or offer to find my kids a better mother.
Sometimes the stress of finding those three cards would make me a little grumpy and I finally realized it was just plain nuts to get there early to search for those cards, so I decided I would just take them home with me and bring them back each week. It just seemed to me that the Lord says he helps those who help themselves, but my daughter saw it differently and got on her high horse and said, “mom, do you see even a little problem with stealing from church bingo?” Well, I tried explaining I had no intention of keeping those cards permanently, but she wasn’t buying that explanation, so in the end, I had to scratch that plan. Kids can really cramp your style with all the example setting you have to do, but until the church switched over to paper cards, I continued to search every time we played. For some odd reason my kids both hate Bingo now and I no longer play except for once a year I still swing by to see friends at Holiday Bingo, but no one in my family tags along. In fact, now that I think about it, the topic hardly comes up ever except once, I wondered out loud if the reason they hated Bingo so much was because I used to get so carried away, and they both screamed, “BINGO!”
Now, Bingo really has nothing to do with my new obsession, but I felt a little background information was needed to explain how I have a tendency to go overboard. This time around I blame it all on my Doodles, Fudge and Vern. I found out recently that I really like taking pictures of them, which has led me to want to learn to get better at taking pictures, which has led me to the Photography Group. I barely know the fundamentals behind good Photography, but this has not stopped me from wanting new equipment and driving my family nuts. It doesn’t matter to me that I live with a husband who has a good, basic knowledge of photography and a daughter who has a four year degree in Photography; I still think I can go one on one with either of them. The problem is my husband has a different learning style than I do. He reads up on the subject, reviews data, practices, plays around with his camera, and I just want to buy new stuff and then when I try and use it say, “what is wrong with this lens? It doesn’t work right.” Just this weekend he suggested we stop buying new lenses until “we” knew what we were doing and proceeded to ask me if I knew about ISO. Well, I told Mr. Smarty Pants to spell it and use it in a sentence and he said, “I SO don’t think you need another lens.” The other thing he likes to do is give me far more information than I can process at one time. I am starting to think he is mistaking my subtle clues like yawning and my heavily lidded eyes for something other than disinterest and boredom.
He goes on and on explaining about pixels, lighting, shutter speeds, and focal points, until I usually say something like, “John, I don’t care about any of that stuff. Just tell me which button to push so I can see the Fudge and Vern pictures I took while you were talking.” More than once he has thrown his hands up in despair and walked away mumbling something about thickheaded people.
I have been out almost every day with my camera with my favorite subjects, Fudge and Vern. I cannot believe how wonderful they have been posing for me. Usually by the time I get my mittens off, my camera set up, the leashes and prong collars off, and the dogs in the position I want them, I take on one of the personalities of Sybil. I am either cajoling, grumbling, praising, or threatening no Kibble if they don’t look at the camera. I can feel the bug taking over my body and I can’t wait to get home to see if I got any good pictures. I even told John there is no way I can be expected to cook and clean and walk dogs AND take photographs. Luckily, since I am not all that great of a cook, have never EVER caught any kind of cooking bug, and he is growing tired of Manwich, he is more than happy to go out to dinner. Just keep in mind my lack of cooking skills did not stop me from buying a Magic Bullet, Jack LaLanne Juicer, Vitamix, Chef’s Envy, and food dehydrator. If only the equipment made the chef or photographer, I would be cooking up a storm and Fudge and Vern would be on the cover of Modern Dog magazine.