Wipe out!!

Wow. Somehow (and I'm baffled how) when my reporter went to log the media for our story today (we shoot on P2 cards, kind of like your digital camera card but bigger) she accidentally wiped out the card. Nothing. Nada. Which was a major bummer, not only because we (obviously) couldn't put the story together for the five o'clock news, but because we had to go reshoot it.

To the interviewee: "Ummm... hi.... remember us? The news crew from early that tormented your two-year-old daughter with the giant news camera? Yeah. Well, we'd like to come back and do it all again."

Embarrassing? Nah. My reporter had to make the call! But seriously. Trying to videotape a two-year old is like trying to wash a car with a mad-cat as a rag. It's really tough. Don't get me wrong, this kid was adorable, but she was past due for her nap and didn't want to do anything I wanted her to do. After much chasing (and a whole bunch of cookies--for her, not me) I finally got enough shots to tell the story. We interviewed the mom and headed out. While I lunched, my reporter sat down to log the material. And that was when it happened. Poof! All our hard work gone.

But it was important to tell this story, which was why we went back. It was about adoption, and what happens when the birth father decides he wants to keep the child.

Two years ago, an Orange County woman got a call from the agency she was working with that a birth mother had chosen her from the web data base as the person she wanted to adopt her yet-to-be-born daughter. Stacy was elated. She'd been trying for ten years to have a child, with no luck. After splitting with her husband, she decided to adopt on her own. Two weeks later, she was flying to Ohio to pick up her new daughter. The birth-mother claimed the father wasn't in the picture and that the child was a product of a one night stand.

But that wasn't the case.

She knew the birth-father, in fact, had two other children with him. But he was an abusive man. The mother wanted the baby out of the cycle of violence. Problem was, Stacy had already taken the child back to Orange County. She'd fallen in love with little Vanessa (a name she chose while flying out to pick her up). She couldn't imagine giving this child up.

Two years later, she's still fighting the battle. She refuses to give up her child. Taking a two year old away from the only mother she's ever known would be devastating to both.

It's an incredibly tough situation, because legally, Stacy can't be Vanessa mother until the father gives up his rights, and he refuses to do so. It would be one thing if he was an upstanding citizen, but he has four other children who he does not have custody of, and has a history of domestic abuse.

If you're interested in Stacy and Vanessa's story, check out the website. Hopefully tomorrow, all the news gods will be with us and we can air the story without any more problems.

Ahhh... technology. Remember the good old days with tape?

Until tomorrow...

Later gators

Responsibility... and taking it.

Okay. So you're a girl. You have two small kids, ages 2 and 5, and you start dating some dude. He's really good to you. Takes care of things. Finds you an apartment in a house after you get laid off. Gives you advice on how to take care of your kids. Do you listen even if he tells you to tie them up and give them only two glasses of water a day and nothing else???

Come on!

That was my story today (last Friday's too). Twenty-five year old chick arrested for child abuse after her landlord (who also lives in the house) reported her. Turns out the chick's boyfriend sent her 850 texts explaining how to discipline her kids. 850 TEXTS!!! Seriously? Is he a thirteen year old girl?? No! Even better. He's a behavior technician employed by a school to help mentally disabled children. What the hell is wrong with this guy? Oh! But it gets better! He's also married and has two kids. The name he gave the girlfriend? Not his real name. Mr. Double-Life. What a scumbag, eh?

So then here's the question: Who is more at fault? The man who directed her what to do? Or the woman who did it?

We've got to take responsibility for our own decisions. According to the girl's family, her children are her life. She's never been abusive in any way until "Angelo" came into her life. But if her children truly were her life, why would she listen to a man instructing her to hurt them? It makes no sense. Much as she and her family might like to blame it all on him, ultimately she chained her children to their beds and starved them.

According to officers,  the 2-year-old had severe bruising to his face, forehead and cheek and dry, cracked, bloody lips and bruising that appeared to be at varying stages. The 5-year-old had swollen arms and was extremely dehydrated. Both boys had bruises and knots on their heads. Both boys were taken to a hospital to be treated for dehydration, malnutrition and injuries. The boys, whose ribs were showing through their skin, are expected to recover.

*sigh...*


Venting over. Tomorrow is another news day, hopefully one with something a little more uplifting. If you're lookin' for some fun, check out my blog on our latest Winslow trip here.

Until then...

Later gators

Slackin'

Yes. I am still alive, despite the death of my blog. I've said it before; I'll say it again: been majorly slackin' on all writing fronts. Facebook has been the only writing I've done, but that can hardly be called writing. Sometimes it's good to step away and let the brain relax for a while. My novel Motor Dolls needs a major overhaul, and I wasn't quite in the frame of mind to do it. I'm still not sure I am, but the story is creeping back into my head, so it must mean something, right?

So what have I been up to? All kinds of stuff, mostly motorcycle and car related.

Let's see... got these way cool ABC Bones leathers, circa 1960-something.

Had a swell weekend in Santa Barbara for my bff's (?0) birthday.

Spent the weekend at the Queen Mary for the Ink N Iron show.

Did a moto-trip to Winslow to check on the Motor Palace, taking as much of old Route 66 as possible. There's something really cool about spending a bunch of consecutive hours on a motorcycle riding through the desert. We did it in one shot on the way back, nearly twelve hours, although it didn't feel like it. Amazingly, we both felt great when we got back to the OC.

My '48 Ford is coming along. All of the mechanical is done, so now we're moving along to the cosmetics. I've decided to bead blast all the paint off, clear coat the bare metal, and pinstripe the heck out of it. The bed is blasted. This weekend I hope to get the frame and drive shaft painted. Charles is finishing the exhaust. Hopefully we're inching closer to the day I can drive her again.

The yet-to-be-named all girls car club has a name! The Gasoline Girls. We'll be meeting again next week at my shop, and each girl will give an oral history on her car--which is great. It's forced me to  get to know my truck on a deeper level. The theory behind the assignment is so that when someone comes up to us at a car show and asks a question, we'll be able to "wow!" them with our answers. After all, we're not just pretty faces!






Work.

Yeah, uhh.... the usual. Some great days with fun stories, some depressing days. Over the last few weeks I've done everything from a local Glee club winning worldwide awards to a murder suicide where a man shot his two year old multiple times (he survived), shot at his five year old (and missed), killed his wife and then himself.  See? The full spectrum.

So, you ask, "Are you getting to back to it?" I think so. I make no promises (to myself). If the inspiration hits, then I'll be here. But I do seriously want to get my writing mojo back. Anyone seen it? If so, send it packin' back my way.

Thanks for listenin'.

Later gators!

Poor Wandering Whale

Here's a fascinating fact: Did you know whales can shut off half their brains? That way, they can sleep and still swim. Man! How I would love to accomplish stuff while sleeping.... Hey. I heard that. I do not sleepwalk through life. Anyway.

This poor whale today. I hope when I'm old and ready to die, that I'm not a spectacle like him, wandering around Dana Harbor, separated from the migrating herd, left to drift and be ogled by masses of people. This morning, he wandered into the harbor, but the folks from the Ocean Institute coaxed him back to open water using sounds. They worried boats might run him over inside. Now, he just hovers near the jetty.

I gotta say it was pretty interesting to see a gray whale up close. Marine Biologists can tell it's old by the *ahem*--wait for it--whale lice. Ew. Yes. Whale Lice. And the barnacles. I've gotta say, it wasn't a pretty beast. As one little girl put it, "CREEPY!!!" Then again, I'm not sure which was more disgusting. The whale, or this man's feet. I won't disgust you further with a closeup. Trust me on this one.

People brought cameras and kids, and oohed and aaahhhed every time the whale came up for air and blew air out it's blow hole. Not a shabby assignment today. Gorgeous ocean views. Cool (a little too cool) ocean breezes. Amazing feats of nature. And a bird up in a tree that I swear sounded like a shrill little barking dog.

All in all a pretty good day, at least for me and for the spectators. Not so much for the whale. Although... maybe he's a showboat. Maybe he wants to go out a celebrity. Considering he's been on every station in every newscast today, I think he's done just that.

Happy journey, whale, wherever that next journey might be.

Pretty views and Pretty motorcycles

Wanna see the view from my "office" today?

Not too shabby, eh? I'm not sure how I would handle being confined to a building all day. I love being out and about. While up at the "Top of the World" in Laguna Beach, I saw bunnies and hawks and pretty flowers and sparkly water...

...okay. You get what I'm sayin'. So why was I on "Top of the World" today? Because Laguna Beach is in a dead zone. In order to feed back our signal live, we have to have line of sight with a microwave tower, and since Laguna is surrounded by hills, that can't be done. The solution? Drive up the to "Top of the World" park. Complaining? Not me.

And why were we in Laguna? To interview a family member of one of the American hikers detained in Iran. (See Richard? Real news!) They've been actively campaigning to get Visas for the mothers of the three detainees so they can at least go see their kids, but have been continually denied. Finally today, the Iranian government said they will be issued, but the family is hesitant to believe. They've been told this before. Only when the Visas are in hand, will they allow themselves to get excited. If you're interested in reading more about their story, check out the website, www.freethe hikers.org.

Now I'm going to blather on about my weekend. Work has been stressful the last couple of weeks, so instead of doing what I should have done this weekend--like laundry and grocery shopping (who needs clean clothes and food?)--I instead chose to be completely self-indulgent and just have fun. Saturday I went riding with a friend, Shannon, who just got her motorcycle license and her first motorcycle, a Honda Rebel (well, kind of her first bike. She bought a Yamaha, but it had issues to the point of being unrideable, so our good pal Spider hooked her up with the Rebel). We did 100 miles through the canyons and around Orange County. She did great!! You'd never know she'd been on a bike only a handful of times. Go Shannon!

Sunday, I took the '67 CT 90 out for some exercise. Poor little thing doesn't get much road time with all the other bikes in the garage. I had SO much fun! Seriously! I don't know how many laps I did through Old Town Orange, blazing (okay, maybe not blazing) down street after street ogling the "downtown charmers" (old houses, in cheesy realtor talk). On about my bazillionth time rounding the traffic circle, people started to point and laugh. But we didn't give a rat's ass! We knew we were cool!

When I got back to the shop, my feller had taken the fairing and touring trunk off of MoJoe's old sidecar rig. I couldn't believe how much better it looked! So of course we had to take that out for a spin to make sure everything still functioned right. I swear, people on the streets can't help but smile when they see a sidecar rig. See? I bet you're smiling now!


Okay, okay. I'll stop blabbering on about motorcycles. But I'm a Motor Doll! What do you expect??

Oh! And speaking of Motor Doll stuff! Wednesday, I meet again with the yet-to-be-named all girl car club! And this weekend Mae (my '48 Ford), gets her newly-purchased front fenders! Maw and Paw are dragging the trailer here since I haven't been able to make it out to get them. Thanks Maw and Paw! Wanna read the full story on her face-lift? Go here. Woo hoo!! Maybe Mae will someday be back on the road again!

And now... it's time to eat dinner. Maybe it will dilute the caffeine in my system.

Later gators!

Never forget...

Yeah, I know. I've been seriously slackin' on the Blog front, but it's not as if I've been off counting dust motes. For one, I had some Motor Doll bloggin' to do over on the MD site, you know, motor-related stuff after a busy, super-fun-motor-weekend a while back. Don't believe me? Go check it out.

Plus, I've been workin' on the Winslow building (newly named the WINSLOW MOTOR PALACE). We went there last weekend for the first time as owners--scary, but oh so cool. We put together plans for our "motel room" in the mudroom/shanty off the main building. Sounds charming, eh? Really... it is. I just like the word shanty. And our contractor likes the word mudroom. It's an East-Coast thing. Anyway...

Of course, I could have sneaked in time to write about my daily news stories (what this blog is supposed to be about, right?) but frankly, couldn't get motivated. The stories haven't been at all inspiring. I did an entire week on the federal appliance rebate. All week, pictures of washers and dryers and refrigerators--oh my! Write about that? I don't think so.

And... oh yeah! My house was burglarized. I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say knowing someone came into your home and took things you worked hard to buy, stinks. Most of the stuff they stole insurance will cover and can be replaced. One thing for me, though, can't.

For those of you who've read MOTOR DOLLS, you know Benny gets thrown for a loop when her camera gear is stolen, not because she can't go buy new ones, but because the memories evoked from each camera are irreplaceable. The camera stolen from me wasn't particularly sentimental, and because it's no longer made, I got an upgrade as a replacement (thanks, super-cool-and-mega-swell-Richard. See? I mentioned you in my blog. Happy now?).  What really tweaked me was my camera strap. Yep. The strap.

When I was thirteen, I borrowed my dad's SLR to get some shots for a magazine put together by my AP English class. My subject? Arcosanti, an experimental town in the middle of the Arizona desert. I shot two rolls of black-and-white and fell in love with the process and how life looked through a viewfinder. Because I'd developed such a passion (and borrowed my dad's camera way too often) my parents bought me my own, a used Pentax K1000, with a "professional" looking camera strap, much like the one in the picture here. I felt so hip and cool with my bitchin' strap. A couple years after I got the camera, my brother's dog, Red, knocked over my tripod with the Pentax, splitting the body. The only thing salvagable was the strap.


Over the years, I moved that silly strap from camera to camera. It didn't feel like "my" camera unless it wore that strap. When I realized my camera had been taken in the burglary, my first thought was the strap. They stole a piece of my photographic history that can never be replaced.

How did I respond? I kinda took a time-out on life, which is why I haven't kept up on this blog. I felt  zapped but couldn't completely explain why. Yes, work kept me insanely busy. Yes, I felt overloaded. Yes, the theft bummed me out. But totally checking out didn't fit me.

About a week after the theft (while doing yet another ridiculous appliance story) I met a very interesting man: A sixty-something out of work construction inspector living in a Hollywood Hills apartment.  He'd taken advantage of the rebate program and was waiting for his new washing machine to be delivered--and we planned to be there to capture the moment. Of course, the delivery truck was late. Really late. In fact, we had to leave before it arrived in order to make our air slot. While waiting, we stood around and talked. He said he had a gift of seeing truth and gave us some examples that seemed pretty insightful, especially about the reporter I was working with. Somehow we got on the subject of the burglary, and I mentioned the strap. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "It wasn't the strap that was special. It was the way you felt about it. You still have those feelings."

Whoa. He was totally right. His advice?

"When you walk into the store to buy a new strap, transfer all of those emotions and memories into the new strap. Remember, the strap doesn't matter. What's in your head and heart does."

Here I'd been fretting about this silly thing for a week, and a few words from a stranger made me feel a bazillion times better. So you know what I did? I went on ebay and found an old strap like mine and bought it. When it arrives, I'll take his advice and transfer all of the youthful love and enthusiasm I felt the first time I slung my "professional" camera 'round my neck into the new one and create a whole new set of memories to add to it.

Mr. Hollywood Hills Man, I don't remember your name, but I will never forget your eyes or your words. Thank you.

There's no such thing as ugly or stupid... at least in motorcycles.

So I popped into Coffee Bean for my daily fix of green tea and had an interesting conversation that led me to think about judgment in motorcycling.

The guy behind the counter looked totally hip in his clear Ray-Bans, shaved head, and tattoos. Super friendly guy. And a tea drinker, too. Anyway, so I was wearing my favorite Triumph t-shirt from Glory (great store with a vintage vibe, check it out), and the counter guy asked if I rode a Triumph. So I answered, “Yes!” He then asked if I had one of the new ones that looked old. Again, I answered, “Yes, an ’04, but I also have a ’77.” So we talked about the woes of kick-starting an old machine and he mentioned how much he’d like to get one of the new ones.Since he showed an interest in motorcycles, I, of course, asked if he rode.

That’s when it happened. Something I hate to see. He turned his eyes away, got uncomfortable, and answered that he had… a scooter. “Cool!” I said. “I love scooters. I’m in the market for an old Vespa.”

Then he got even more embarrassed. “Oh, yeah… well… I just have a Yamaha Vino.”

A Vino. Vintage inspired. Inexpensive. Nothing to be ashamed of, so why was he?

He should have been proud.

Because I always get excited talking bikes, I asked him a couple of questions, which got him talking and he totally lit up and told me about all the modifications he’d made and how fun it was. Just like that, he shifted from shame to enthusiasm. He wants to get a Bonnie someday, but an upcoming wedding and European honeymoon have priority right now. Point is, he’s a future motorcyclist. And that’s way cool.

Our conversation led me to think about judgment in general. There’s way too much of it in the world. Hell, I’m as guilty as the next Doll. But here’s the deal: scooter or motorcycle, the guy is riding. He’s young. He shares a passion. He’s in the game. Should he feel embarrassed or ashamed just because he’s still working toward his dream bike? Granted, we all have tastes and preferences. I like the old beasts that barely run, which is pretty stupid. If I had half a brain I wouldn’t mess with them (like my poor little ’66 Yamaha YM1). Some riders appreciate fancy paint jobs, or ape-hangers, or carbon fiber. Some don’t. Our motorcycles are an expression of personal style. Or, they’re a reflection of our current situation. Regardless. Riding is what it’s about.

So I have a goal and a challenge: to put aside personal bias and love the fact that someone else has found the passion--even if they pull up on a Pacific Coast with a chopper kit.

Angels and Gondolas

When asked about my favorite element of being a photojournalist, the answer is easy. Getting to do all the things I do. How many people can say they've been hung out the back of a Chinook helicopter? Or gone inside top-secret government sites? Or met three presidents? The list goes on and on. I've had the opportunity to do so many amazing things in my career.

Like this week so far. Small things, but pretty cool.

MONDAY:


I have to admit. I don't follow baseball. I know, I know. It's the great all-American past time. But I've just never been a sports fan. Even so, it's still pretty fun to be down on the field with the players on opening day. There's an energy buzzing around as they come out for pre-game practice. It's hard not to get caught up in it.

Even the team manger, Mike Scioscia, waxed nostalgic about his favorite opening days both as a player and as a manager.

And wow! What an armada of Japanese media for new angel Hideki Matsui! 104 credentialed Japanese media compared to our usual twenty or so.

TUESDAY:

I got to ride in a Gondola. And I got paid to do it. In Long Beach, there's a lovely area called Naples featuring homes on a canal. It's a popular place for tourists and locals alike to kayak, and boat, or simply walk along the lovely paths lining the canals. And yes. There are gondola rides.

But the sea walls keeping the water and the homes separated is in serious need of repair. It was built as a '50 year wall,' 70 years ago, and after last Sunday's quake in Baja, experienced some damage. The fear now is that if a quake hits closer to home, the walls could crumble and put the homes in jeopardy. It's an expensive fix, though, and some Long Beach residents feel millions of dollars shouldn't be spent to repair "rich people's back yards." Instead, they'd like to see the money spent on fixing roads and other infrastructure.

It was an exceptionally beautifully day in Long Beach: Blue skies, lovely breeze, colorful and clear. I couldn't imagine being inside an office on a day like that--another great perk of the job. For all of the downsides, there are also a heck of a lot of benefits. I can truly say I've experienced the world.

Today? Who knows what today will bring. Every day is different. But even if it's a lousy story, I have to remember how much fun I had Monday and Tuesday, and balance the good with the bad.

Later gators!

Sometimes you've just gotta be a Motor Doll...

A very wise feller had a talk with me this week about balance, something I've been struggling a lot with lately. I tend to dive into things full force when I'm on a mission, and neglect everything around me. Problem is right now, I have several things I'm diving full force into, in addition to a demanding job. I guess my facade started to crack, and he noticed.

So I listened to him.

What's the point of writing about a lifestyle if I'm not living it? On his advice, I put aside my many projects (or at least cut back), and went and had some fun. Thursday night, even though my brain kept reminding me of all the things I needed to do, I ignored the annoying voice in my head and went for a motorcycle ride, meeting up with two other Motor Dolls at a club meeting for a group of Triumph riders. And you know what? I had a blast being a Motor Doll again. It became very clear how much I've been neglecting what I love.

So I carried that feeling through the weekend. 

Saturdays I usually go to the gym, clean house, then write for the rest of the day. Instead, I went to the gym, then hopped on my motorcycle and rode for a while, ending up at my favorite coffeehouse (one that doesn't have WiFi) and wrote a new opening chapter for my novel MOTOR DOLLS--or at least tried to in between conversations about motorcycles with guys coming and going from the place. It felt good to get out of my cave and write in a different environment. It felt great being on my Triumph and once again being a Motor Doll.

Saturday night, we rode out to a great restaurant in the canyons. Sunday we took the old Corvette out. And now Monday morning, I actually feel rested instead of stressed.    

Nathan Brandsford, a literary agent who blogs, posted Ten Commandments for the Happy Writer. Sadly, I was seriously breaking three of them: Enjoy the Present, Don't Neglect Friends and Family, and Recognize the Forces that are Out of Your Control. Writing becomes an obsession, especially when you're balancing a few projects in various stages. Because of the current state of the publishing industry, debut authors are responsible for marketing, for getting themselves out there. That means maintaining a strong web presence and finding your fans. It's extremely time consuming. In addition to that, a writer still needs to write. And when you're working twelve hour days, it becomes incredibly difficult to fit all of that in, plus still be a good wife and friend and maintain the basics like paying bills and buying groceries. And oh yeah. Having fun.

         (Lady Luck, Kitty Kat, and Nate from BA Moto)


Thanks Feller, for recalibrating me and putting things in perspective. You're super swell.

The news week in summary

Mommy reprimanded me for not updated my blogs, so here I am. It’s been a busy week.

Let’s see… Monday. Hmmm. I don’t remember Monday. I had a migraine and the whole day is sort of a blur. I’m sure we covered a news story, I just don’t remember what. Sad, huh?



Tuesday. Ah… the Alcala sentencing. This is the case I blogged about a while back. He was given the death sentence for the third time, but because all death sentences can be appealed, I’m sure he’ll appeal just as he did the last two times. The sadist will probably out live us all. More details came out in this case regarding how the women died. The man truly is the devil.



Wednesday. Here’s a provocative one. Gay Jesus. Told you it was provocative. There’s a play written by Terrance McNally called CORPUS CHRISTI. It’s the retelling of the Jesus story, with Jesus as a gay man living in 1950s Corpus Christi, and is obviously, very controversial—especially this particular performance taking place Easter Sunday at a progressive Christian church. I won’t pass judgment one way or another on the topic. But I do want to talk about judgment of a different kind. Right before our live shot outside the church, a man came up and said to be sure to point out that the church isn’t a Christian church. Oh, but it is. They consider themselves Christian. We can’t contradict that in our story and say they’re not. When my reporter explained this to him, he got angry because it’s not HIS idea of Christianity.

Immediately after our live shot, I noticed a woman standing near our truck scowling. The second we wrapped, she stomped up to us and said, “I can’t believe you’re exploiting this.” Then she went on to criticize our story for being one-sided. Our story was most certainly NOT one-sided. We talked to people on both sides of the issue. When we asked her what she thought of the sound bytes from the Faith Coalition and from the two college students opposed to it, she admitted she didn’t watch our whole story, that the moment she saw what our story was about, she rushed out of the house to our location to give her opinion. So she passed judgment without even knowing the facts. She walked away saying she had no respect for us as individuals.

It’s one of the weird things about working in this field. As an office worker, it’s doubtful you’ll have people walk into your workspace and personally attack you—something I get on a pretty regular basis. Another example: If we cover a Republican event (like the McCain/Palin event I just cover), they blast the liberal media and we get booed. Covering Democratic events, they refer to us as right wing conspirators and we get booed. We can’t be both, people! We try our best to be neutral, and for that neutrality, get blasted. Granted, there are definitely journalists with a slant. But that’s not the spirit of our profession.

THURSDAY: An arrest on a kidnapping plot.
FRIDAY: The economic effect on large churches and their Easter celebrations

Okay. I’ve rambled enough. Clearly, you can see what story got to me this week. As journalists, are we supposed to steer clear of controversial issues? Or explore them? If we lean to one side or the other, we’d be biased, right?

I’ll shut up now.

Later gators!

Home Again, Home Again!

(A disclaimer: I'm sleep deprived, so don't expect clever writing, proper spelling, or fascinating tales.)

I've finally wandered back to Southern California after my time on the road.

Friday we covered the McCain/Palin event in Tucson. The day started with a six a.m. live shot--and it was cold (45 degrees)! Who would've expected Tucson to be cold! Thankfully, my pal Allen (a photographer for the Today show) loaned me a jacket. Thanks, Allen!

The event started around 12:30. Most of the 1000 guests told us they mainly came to see Sarah Palin--and she didn't disappoint the crowd. But I won't discuss politics here. I'm all about the behind the scenes, right? Other than clueless reporters stepping on and off our platform during the event (shaking the platform, thus making the shot shake) the event went nice and smooth.

By the time we did our liveshot at five o'clock. most everyone had already gone. Five minutes until air, one of the deconstruction crew comes over and tells me they need to take the platform down. He said he'd wait until after our shots, but the guys actually started taking it down around us. Yikes! With only a half an hour to get ready for the six, I had move everything off, quickly slam together (edit) our 6 o'clock piece, and reset the shot. Run! Run! Run! Weirdly, I kinda enjoy the pressure. I know, I know. That's messed up, right?






The downside of the day? The lack of food and sleep. The night before, we got to squeeze in three hours sleep before getting up for the early show. Once we got to the fairgrounds where the event took place, we were locked down for the day, and there was no food anywhere to be found! Luckily I carry Cliff Bars in my bag. It's weird though. When you're working and have deadlines to meet, the hunger and fatigue move to the backseat. It's not until later you start to crash. Around seven thirty, we finally got a bite to eat, then shot our piece for the 11pm. To bed by midnight. Yay!







From there, instead of heading back to SoCal, I took a little detour to Phoenix to spend the day with my family. My pretty mommy and I went to a wedding.










I watched my twin nieces ride horses.

Saw all the cool things my nephew builds.

Met their cool tree frog "Gummy" (aptly named since everything sticks to him). They also had several hamsters and dogs. They love critters. Reckon it runs in the family.

Visited my 91-year-old "Nannie."

Of course got the best daddy hug in the world. All in all, a fine day trip on the way back home.













Thanks for indulging my family photos. Tomorrow, back to work! And now... it's time to SLEEP. Ah... sleep. How I've missed you.

In Tucson on Assignment

Back in the day, I used to travel a lot for work, all over the world, but these days with budget cuts, we don't get on the road as much, instead, letting affiliates pick up the shoots.

I like traveling for work. Sort of. It was a lot easier pre-911 considering how much gear we travel with, but I've gotten pretty darned good at juggling it all while navigating airports. Generally, I travel alone with the gear since I like flying out of a smaller regional airport near my home rather than braving LAX. The challenge is trying to move the five-to-ten cases of gear (depending on the assignment) without letting it out of my sight. Sky-caps are great, especially my guys at John Wayne Airport. They make it so much easier.

I'm in Tuscon on assignment for the next couple of days to cover John McCain and Sarah Palin, together again to try and draw the conservative base back to McCain.

Travel was a breeze today. Everything went according to plan. I got the gear on flight ($400 in excess baggage!), got it off the flight, into a rental car, and to the hotel. Now comes the tough part. The day started when I headed to the airport about ten a.m. and arrived in Tucson about four. We go live tonight at eleven, have to come back to the hotel, sleep for about four hours, and get up to do two hits for our morning show (six and six thirty a.m.). And that's all before we've even covered the event!

Around noon, we shoot the campaign event, write and edit our stories for five and six, do the live shots for five and six. Whew. Done?


Maybe. There's a chance we'll have to go again for the 11p.m. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we don't. So yeah... travel assignments are exhausting. We work our butts off. But it's a nice change of pace.

And look! My pillow wishes me goodnight! Sadly, I won't see the pillow again until after midnight.

Until tomorrow...

Later gators

How to Convince People to get Naked

I knew that title would get you!

But hey! That's what I had to do today. Convince a girl to get naked. In front of a camera. For TV.

One benefit of being a female television photojournalist is that there aren't a lot of us out there, and in certain situations a girl cameraman is a heck of a lot more appropriate. Like for breast cancer stories. Or stories that are highly emotional.

Or stories at tanning salons.

Yep. That's where I had to ask a girl to get nekked. But I swear! There was a news hook!

Part of the new health care package passed by congress includes a 10% tax on tanning beds--kind of a "sin" tax on something potentially not good for you, like the cigarette tax, and a way for the government to (partially) fund the new health care plan.

But how do you visually tell a story about tanning beds without seeing someone in a tanning bed? And what do people wear in tanning beds? NOTHING!

In comes the female photographer benefit. Had I been a dude asking to enter the room while a girl tanned, I'd probably have been kicked in the nether regions. Granted, the first three we asked said, "Hell no!"

Then I saw my target. A super fit young girl who looked insanely confident in her body.  So we asked. Her eyes got big. She hesitated. Then she shrugged and said, "Why not?"

Granted, when we got into the room and I ran the scene through my head I realized I wouldn't be able to get anything but tight shots if she was, well, nekked. So we compromised on her sports bra and panties.

So where are the pictures you ask? Come on! It's one thing to show a moving image on TV, quite another to put a still up to be analyzed. The girl didn't agree to that! (Sorry Sir Venator!)

So. Would you get naked for a TV camera?

I know my answer.

I'm grinnin' for no good reason

Remember a couple of days ago when I posted about finding your happy?

Well today, my news story... no. I'm not going to tell you. I'll just tell you today's assignment had something to do with one of my blog posts last week about someone with the initials "O.M." Got it? 

Anyway. So it was a hectic, up to the deadline kind of day and I was rushing around, shooting, editing, getting us ready for air, shot a quick, last minute interview, edited it down... rush, rush, rush... break down the shot, pack it all up, wanna get out of there and take a shower after our story.... ew... and then this:

 I screeched to a halt on the sidewalk. There, amongst the blades of grass, this pretty little flower! It was the size of a clover, so small, it could easily be missed in the sea of green. A little bitty... what is that? A pansy? Whatever it was, it was so insanely cute I had to grab a picture.

Seeing this happy little thing made me smile like an idiot. It made me forget my truck's transmission's death that morning. Forget I was wasting yet another day at O.M.'s house. Forget I didn't make the quarterfinal round of the Amazon novel contest. None of it matter. I had this pretty little flower staring up at me.

Oh man! Forget... Was it a forget-me-not?? I totally don't know my flowers. Anyone?

So hey! Did anything make you smile today? If so, share!

The Jobless Redhead Gets A Job!!

Don't you love happy endings?

Last month, I covered a story about a "Jobless Redhead" who found an inventive way to search for a job. Check out my blog post from February.

Way too often, we (the media) don't follow up on stories, which is sad. One day a person is top of the newscast, the next forgotten. In this case, my reporter kept in touch with Michael, and yesterday he texted that he'd found employment through his efforts. By standing on the corner with a sign directing people to his resume (posted at joblessredhead.com), he got over a thousand email responses, many interviews, and several offers. The one he accepted?

A marketing job for an oral surgeon. He'll visit dentist offices--both ones with established relationships and those without--and build relationships for referrals. It's a great job for him. The guy is personable. He's smart. He's creative. No doubt he'll do very well.

So what's he going to do with his Jobless Redhead website? Maybe rent it out to another unemployed redhead, he says. Now that's thinkin'!