As I said, some mornings my mind is blank. I sit here thinking about the NHL playoffs, our visit to Napa yesterday, or what it was like growing up in Ottawa in the 1970’s and 80’s. The latter was triggered by memories of old family photos found clicking through folders from a hard drive my father had loaded up with 35mm-to-digital conversions.
Looking at those old photos made me realize my wardrobe sensibilities have not advanced far, possibly not at all. At least my ties are wider, and no longer made of leather. And I’ll never be seen again in my little green, Little Lord Fauntleroy get-up. That’s what memories are for.
Life is a B&H
Loni gets Restoration Hardware. NapaStyle. Gilt (oh, brother). Me, I get B&H Photo & Video. It is 1″+ of pure geeky, nerdy, filmy greatness. With a price. Yesterday after a sunny day of a Napa run to pickup some wines, and then an evening of horror-comedy theater in San Francisco, the latest copy of the catalog was awaiting quietly back in San Jose. It’s the kind of thing I read while drinking wine in our backyard, while my brain moves even slower than normal.
The funny part: Who the heck still reads mail catalogs?
Turns out, me! That’s who.
I know all these tech gizmos are available online with plenty of reviews, information and photos as far as the mouse can click. But for some reason, despite my new media penchant, I just like the old school feel of a glossy catalog. Loni, not so much. She can already see me circling things while I sip espresso on this beautiful slow, Sunday morning: DSLR audio mixer… zoom lens… better tripod…. more software. The list goes on. Yes, life is a B&H (photo & video).
So what a day yesterday. Where else, but in Northern California can you go from walking the vineyards of Napa to a bloody horror-comedy on an intimate stage just a block off Union Square in San Francisco? Well, yes the San Francisco part does probably mean you’d have to be in Northern California. Still, it was one of those long, swerving days where all senses were tested and tweaked. Good stuff. Love the Bay Area man. Eh. Mon ami.
Saturday night at SF Playhouse saw its fair share of blood splatter. From grape splatter, to blood splatter. As a committed horror fan and fan of Napa, it’s my kind of weekend.
PS – Liberace, your winery is ready. It’s called Del Dotto Vineyards. Tackiness is free of charge. Limos and panging for Rome, priceless.
I get asked this a lot: Are you a professional?
It’s never followed by anything else: Professional… Hockey Player. Professional… Silicon Valley New Media Entrepreneur. Professional… VC. Professional… Guy.
Just: Are you a professional?
Believe me, you; the answer is always no, most definitely. I don’t get it, really. Professional? No, absolutely not. I’m a rank amateur; two degrees away from yo-yo master, or chop-stick drummer.
Okay, slight exaggeration. Or perhaps an over/under statement. It all depends.
I prefer being a non-professional. It’s easier that way. I don’t expect much from me, and neither should you. Just lets enjoy some espresso, then some Diet Coke, later some wine. Life will be good.