Saturday, May 30, 2009

Bruschetta

Brusca is Latin for firewood. Bruscare means "to grill/toast over wood coals". Bruschetta, then, is an Italian toast-based dish—pronounced, of course, as "brusketta".

Anyway. We were in Vino Rosso. It was yummy.

Bruschetta

Friday, May 29, 2009

San Francisco Carnaval 2009

If you follow Wendy on Twitter you might have seen her surprise at something I brought home from BorrowLenses.com the other day [sidenote: BorrowLenses.com are simply superb! They are also personally super-convenient for pickup and drop-off, right on my commute between here and Google]. I figured it would be fun for the long weekend, and to use for photographing Carnaval.

Wendy and I both remember moving to San Francisco at the end of May 2005, driving here from Denver over Memorial Day weekend exactly four years ago. We'd missed the parade by a couple of days but have watched it each year since; it passes within 30 yards or so of our house. It's full of color and character, and also of characters. People who make up, dress up, come out and hang out just to wander down the street with the rest of the costumes.

I've managed to snap some reasonable photos in the past (eg. some from last year) but never really been satisfied. Perhaps the new lens would get me a little closer and more able to capture the spirit? It sure is a beast. Weighs 6lbs, is frickin' enormous with the lens hood on, and comes in its own padded suitcase with a huge leather lens cap. Wicked-fast autofocus, though, and f2.8 wide open on a 300mm lens? That's amazing.

And despite the teasing from my wife, I'm pretty happy with my picks from the day:

IMG_3099

Monday, May 18, 2009

Life

My mom had a piece published in The Guardian this weekend. Deeply touching, it made me think hard. I hesitated when posting these photos of "Life Is Good" balloons:

Life Is Good

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Sunlight patch in my study at home

Exactly once each year I get sunlight in my office. Here it is, this tiny patch reflected off the windows of the house across the road, through a narrow slit past strange angles in hall and living room and onto my bookcase. In a couple of days the angles won't line up any more at any time of day, and that'll be it for sunlight in my office for another year. Sixteen minutes of sunlight each year and here they are. It's the tick of a slow clock. It's like Stonehenge here in the Mission.

Sunlight patch in my study at home