I had no horse (pardon the pun) in the Super Bowl XLVIII race, but if pressed, I marginally would have preferred the Broncos to win.
It’s not just that I know more Bronco fans than Seahawks fans. I had caught a few minutes of the Seahawks playing a few weeks ago. They were playing at home, I think, and while the other team had the ball, the coaches, not just the players, but the coaches were motioning to the crowd to make noise, presumably so the other team could not clearly hear the audibles (look at me, talking the lingo).
I. Hate. Unsportsmanship.
I hated it when I used to watch sports, and really hated it when playing racquetball. Side note . . . pumping your fist when you make a good shot is marginally OK. Pumping your fist when your opponent misses his shot is not OK; you did nothing but take up space. Also, swearing when your opponent makes a good shot, instead of saying “nice shot”, means you are someone I don’t really want to be with.
Anyway, just the sight of the coaches acting like tiny male appendages made me wish the Seahawks to lose that game. They won, and got to the Super Bowl, but by now I was committed; I still preferred the Seahawks to lose.
Now, I’m not naive (much); I know it’s pro sports, and every team is basically the same; save for a few exceptions, they are a bunch of guys who have no idea what the word “class” and “sportsmanship” means, and that by all rights should probably be in jail someplace. Still, in the snapshot of time that was this last weekend, I actually had a “side”, tenuous as my alliance might have been.
So we made tentative plans to watch the game.
I cleaned the drive early in the day . . .
Shoveled it, as it was only 3-4 inches.
. . . and we had a -pre-game tea (Melisa made mini-crisps, and mini-NY-style cheesecakes) . . .
By the way, she made 12 crisps, 6 mini-cheesecakes, and one 6-inch cheesecake. Serious snacks for watching the game.
And then I made a fatal mistake . . . I snapped this next photo.
All of the above were shot with my Samsung Note II . . . and the last one awakened my “I’m a photographer, damn it!” side.
Out came my light box, lights, tripod, and associated trappings, and I started photographing cups, tea sets, plates, tea pots, etc.
Here’s some examples:
I also had some vintage cameras I’ve been meaning to photograph. I had the mini-studio all set up, so . . .
Those are exactly as I bought them, meaning I did not clean them, something I discovered when I processed the photos . . . the camera captures a lot more stuff than what we sometimes want.
I’ll be doing individual posts of each, but for now the above tease will have to do.
Anyway, by the time I got done it was late in the evening, and I went to the Internet to see how the game went.
I feel bad for the fans. It’s not fun watching a rout . . . unless you are a Seahawk fan; then you probably cheered all the way. It’s the American way; winning is more important than watching a good game. It’s more important than anything.
. . . eh, I had fun with my picture-taking. Maybe I’ll watch Super Bowl XLIX, but I have to tell you Bob; if the last decade is any indication, the odds are not good.
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. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.