My oh-so-rational husband told me I might as well quit now before I continue to torture myself. So I have, although I feel like quite the failure and cop-out. I was just missing too many days and then feeling guilty about it. The truth is, sometimes life in the barn isn't visually stimulating or inspiring. Maybe it's that my biggest love isn't really nature photography --which I would end up doing a lot of since I'm hard pressed to find subjects around here -- but more along the lines of people photography and portraiture. Do we want 365 pictures of Duncan? His grandmothers would hastily scream "Yes!", but I'm afraid I might be a little embarrassed to post that many pictures of one little toddler. Having no life is one thing, publicly proclaiming it to the world is another. And I'm pretty sure I don't want hundreds of pictures of the foliage around my humble abode, either. So.... I'm sorry.
I will, however, continue to take pictures when I'm properly inspired.
In other news -- I get tired of being the one face of my Etsy. I long to be behind the lens as opposed to in front of it. Everyone else seems to be so terribly, shockingly busy, though, and I end up donning my creative works again and again so that I can get pictures of them and expose them to the world. I've had several items made and waiting to be photographed, and I was trying to hold out for a juicy little friend of mine who offered her services, but once again I'm delaying progress by pinning my hopes on someone else, so I've been forced to turn to the tripod. I really don't like doing the tripod thing. You can't get very creative or artsy and you feel kinda dumb making faces at no one. It can be fun, though. Then there's using your husband to take pictures of you; usually when he gets a chance it's always a situation where there's horrible, speckled light everywhere and we have to look for spots of even shade. Then I get frustrated at him because he's not taking the pictures I see in my mind's eye, or he took a whole set of fantastic pictures but failed to tell me that my hair was doing something unmistakably awkward throughout. Hah. Oh, the trials of being an enterprenoor. (I could look up the spelling for that word, but why should I? Communication is the goal.)