Our final morning in Columbia was spent at the Riverbank Zoo and Garden.
It was still very pretty…
We didn't spend a lot of time at the zoo. It was spring break and the place was crawling with kids. By the time we'd gotten through the reptile exhibit I was ready to bolt for fresh air and open skies. Thankfully, we actually did need to be on our way back to Atlanta.
And as they say, a good time was had by all.
Before we left Columbia, John asked if I'd ever done any technical writing. Nothing officially, I said, but I'd done a lot of documentation not only at my job in Phoenix, but also at my first job in Denver. The reason he asked is that his company might be needing someone with that skill set; a position that could be easily worked from home.
Right now I'm trying to track down the documentation I did for my last job. I'm going to tweak my resume a bit to add that skill, and then send it (and samples of that writing) off to him tomorrow.
We got back to Atlanta just in time for Ben's cousin's home-made tacos. They were just as delicious as they were the last time I had them at his parent's house in New Mexico. Another early night and we were packed and on our way to the airport the morning.
The next day found us dodging raindrops on our drive over to Columbia on I-2o. We splurged on a nice hotel directly across the street from John's "Fancy Apartment in the Sky," as he calls it, since we knew we'd be doing a bit of walking.
John took the afternoon off work and showed us around a bit of the University of South Carolina and then a short tour of downtown. I miss living somewhere that there's an interesting urban landscape.
With our downtown tour finished, we headed back to the hotel and then met up with John and his friend Chuck for dinner at The Liberty Tap Room. A brief stop at Starbucks afterward (because, natch), and back to the hotel for the night.
It took us a year to have a reception after Ben and I got married. Why shouldn't it take an additional six months beyond that to go on our honeymoon?
I only call it a honeymoon because we used money we got as wedding gifts to pay for it. I view it as a much-needed respite from the absolute insanity both of us are dealing with at work. And Denver. Oh yes, a very overdue escape from this hellhole.
Our original plan was to simply fly to Atlanta for a few days and visit Ben's cousin and his husband. When we realized how close we were to Columbia, South Carolina, the plan changed a bit because we realized we could drive over and visit our friend John, whom we hadn't seen since we were in Arkansas a couple years ago when both he and I were getting inked by Erik.
The flight over was uneventful, save for the asshole who paid for priority boarding for himself, but then proceeded to save three additional seats for his family members who boarded later. I hate people.
We arrived at Ben's cousin's house after briefly getting lost (Thanks, Waze) and were treated to a delicious dinner at The Red Snapper. I guess we were both exhausted, because by the time we got back from dinner we both crawled upstairs and immediately fell asleep at the Denver equivalent of 6:30 pm. (I was falling asleep in the car, truth be told.)
An old house, a wonderfully chilly room, and a toasty electric blanket made for some very restful sleep. We were surprised when we woke up at 9:30 the next morning, having clocked more than 12 hours asleep.
Our plans for the day were to visit the Atlanta Botanical Garden. Lots of pictures to follow.
Done at the Garden, we then grabbed lunch and headed downtown.
We toured The World of Coca Cola. It reminded me of the Walmart Museum, but on a much larger scale.
I was kind of disappointed that while we got to sample some of their more bizarre brands from around the world, we didn't get to taste actual Coke from anywhere other than the US. Ben's cousin told us African Coke was a very different taste experience but it simply wasn't available.
Last night Ben and I attended Chihuly at Night at the Denver Botanic Gardens. I was really torn as to whether or not to take my DSLR or just my new iPhone 6 to photograph the exhibit.
I decided on the iPhone to put it through its paces and see if it really lived up to all the shooting-in-low-level-light hype.
It didn't. I was sorely disappointed. The evening wasn't a waste and I had a good time (it's been far too long since Ben and I had a date night), but I really wish I'd brought my DSLR along because the iPhone camera simply wasn't up to the challenge.
In addition, Ben also had issues with the flash on his 6 Plus washing out entire scenes.
Granted, Chihuly at Night is a difficult subject to photograph even with the best equipment. But it seemed I got much better results with my DSLR when the exhibition was in Phoenix several years ago.
Thankfully, the exhibit continues in Denver through the end of November, and we've already purchased tickets to return. This time I'll bring the DSLR and a tripod…
All that being said, out of approximately 80 shots, I did manage to capture of a few decent—not good, but merely decent—pictures:
I was looking at my Flickr page the other day and realized it's been quite a while since I got out and did any photography. I think that's partially because I'm at the point with Denver that I really don't want any more reminders of this place. All I know is that every time I take my camera out with me I find no inspiration anywhere.
But photography is an itch I need to scratch every so often, and yesterday I really wanted to go somewhere and capture images of something. Unfortunately the weather wasn't looking cooperative.
Ben suggested we head west and drive to the top of Mt. Evans.
I was less than enthused at the idea. Yeah, maybe if the sun was shining and dark rain clouds weren't threatening in the west, but not with the way things were looking when he first proposed the idea.
After lunch the sun was starting to peek out in places, and he convinced me that we at least needed to get out of the apartment and go somewhere other than Starbucks. And since Sammy hadn't yet been on a road trip with us, it might be a good chance to see how he'd react.
I agreed with the proviso that if my camera battery wasn't charged all bets were off.
Amazingly, the battery in my camera was fully charged, so we set out on our little adventure, and I'm so glad we did.
…this evening of going out and doing some night photography. I even got the camera and tripod out. Then I looked at the temperature and the wind chill and said, "Ain't nobody got time for that!"
Last night I dreamt my sister and I were back in the house where we lived during my high school and college years. I don't remember the circumstances, only the overwhelming feeling of "home" and "safety" that it elicited. I remember standing in my bedroom, running a finger down the blinds, watching the afternoon sun stream in. It was a little slice of heaven.
That poor bedroom received more coats of paint that I can count over the years. Sadly, I don't have photos from all its iterations. I think the blue phase was my favorite, even though it never was the exact blue I'd envisioned. I also forever regretted my choice of carpet when we first moved in because it never went with anything; a brown, white, and black shag that my father reluctantly agreed to on the condition there would be no more "girly" colors (lemon yellow, lime green—hey, it was the late 60s and early 70s!) like I'd had in my bedroom in our previous home.
My mom, being an interior decorator, indulged my nervous color twitching and I think on some level encouraged it.
I've dreamt of that house more often than usual over the past few years, and I'm starting to think that while my last apartment in Phoenix may be my current conscious mental "happy place" where I go to de-stress and cocoon, that house on Solano Drive North may in fact be my real, subconscious place of refuge.
I still find it amazing that for all the years I lived in San Francisco—inarguably one the most photogenic cities in the United States—I have so few photos of The City itself. Again and again I used to say, "I really need to grab my camera and just start walking the neighborhoods," but like going to the Monterey Bay Aquarium—something else that kept getting put off "because it'll always be there"—one day I woke up and realized I no longer had the opportunity.
Even though I'd been in San Francisco a couple years when the quilt was unveiled at Moscone Center in December of 1988, I was still semi-insulated from the ravages of the AIDS epidemic, having lost only two friends to the disease: Kent "Red" Kelly (who'd moved from Phoenix to San Francisco in 1979 and remarked shortly before his death in 1987 that, "Six years in San Francisco are better than sixty in Arizona," and Ben Walzer, a dear friend and "neighbor with benefits" from my time in Tucson who passed only a few days after Kent.
But like happened with so many others, the arrival of the horrible 90s changed all that.
Australian photographer Lincoln Harris' collection Star Trails, surreal swirls in the sky created from a multitude of long-exposure shots and the effect of the Earth's rotation.