Cold Spaghetti

See those lights behind her head?
The day after Christmas, we bought a Christmas Tree… a 9′ Pre-Lit Balsam Hill Blue Spruce on super-big-time-post-Christmas SALE. It was on our doorstep when we returned home. Wanting to try it out, I asked Paul to set it up while he watched the kids in the front room (I was busy with laundry and unpacking in the back). Before moving from Michigan, we had my parents old 9′ tree… NOT Pre-Lit. As the primary tree-putter-upper in the family, to me the Balsam Hill assembly looked like a dream. You simply put the center pole in place, the branches fall down, and you plug it in… walla! Paul was frustrated with a few details, but in the end agreed that the tree was easy to assemble, beautiful (even without our fluffing the branches), sturdy, and not coming down for a least 3 days. I’d have to change out the camera lens to get the full tree, so no big tree pictures until it’s back up and fully decorated next year (not comfortable changing out the lens on a whim — what if I break it?!)

A photography aside… I’m more comfortable with using AV to play with aperture. But for some reason, when I shoot in Aperture View, the ISO goes up to 1600 for many of the photos! I’m guessing it has something to do with light, but not sure how to control it just yet. Learning…

Driving in the car, kids asleep. We’re causally talking, reminiscing about things like when “Star Wars” was called “Star Wars” and not “A New Hope.” Suddenly, Will’s head snaps up, hair tussled from sleep, his voice breaking through our conversation:

“I was…I was…I was…I was…” he repeats over and over. “I was…I was…I was…”

“Dear, I think the record is broken.“

“I was…I was…I was…I was…”

“Will, what were you? What are you trying to say, honey?“

“I was…I was…I was…” pause. Then slowly, “…digging up shells in the park.” Silence. I look to Paul, curious.

Paul explains: “It was muddy in the park and Will found shells that the rain washed up.”

Turning to Will, showing my interest, “Oh, I see. What color were the shells, Will?”

Silence. Will is starring, eyes half open, out the window. He’s still, almost asleep, as if his explosion of stutters had never happened. The car is quiet again.

“Okay… I think The Little Man is out again.” Shaking my head to Paul, “That was interesting.”

“Yep. Proof that the mouth wakes up before the brain.”