The Hound Of Ulster

 

OK, so maybe it’s not strictly a baseball post.  That is a batting helmet, though.  (HERE’S a baseball thing, just so no one gets upset.)
 

He was very, very excited.  And check out his boots in the next one.  (Don’t tell Mama, though.)

More excitement just around the corner.

That title works on a number of different levels, I think…
 

 
I actually did it on purpose this time.  Not absolutely sure the results work; his right eye gets a bit lost, methinks.  But I really like the highlight around the right side of his face.  Just a little more bounce, and it would have been perfect.  (Course, it’s hard enough to get shots of Sean without setting up any equipment.)

UPDATE: This is The Vitruvian DUCK’S effort.

I like the compositional change, but I’m unconvinced about the rest of it.  He certainly figured out how to bring that one eye out of the “darkness,” and I’m pleased about that.  In contrast, mine looks fairly dramatically underexposed. 

But the side of Sean’s face is gone now.  More abstract, but I’m not convinced it’s the right route to take.  Very Janusz Kaminski-like, which would probably be easier for me to support if Sean wasn’t my kid.  Probably too close to the subject.

(Killer eyes, though, right?)

UPDATE TWO: More from The Duck.

 

Now it’s just starting to get creepy.  I’ll take Kaminski over Warhol pretty much any day of the week.  (Duck uses it to raise a serious question about art and the way an artist relates to his product.  And sneaks in an Andrei Rublev reference for good measure.)

…but I’m still creeped out.
  

David’s awake later than any of the other kids, so he bears the brunt of my photography bug.  Course, he’s terribly photogenic, so it could be a lot worse.
 

 

The kids were doing school this morning with Sarah, learning about Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman doctor.

The story says that after she finished school, she worked hard “telling people how important it was to wash their hands.”

Sean snorts.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asks.

He shrugs disdainfully.

“I thought she wanted to be a doctor.”

 

A little Ash Wednesday story, courtesy of Mrs. B.:

Today during the Gospel, Sean caught the part about not letting your left hand know what your right hand is doing.

In his customary stage whisper, he asked me if this (holding up left fist) is his left hand.

When I said yes, he shoved it down below the pew, while simultaneously performing flamboyant and complicated maneuvers with his right…above his head.

 

Father Drew said the Tridentine Mass today, which provided an opportunity for a number of interesting exchanges.  (Unfortunately, most of the exchanges were conducted in what could mostly kindly be described as “stage whispers.”  In Sean’s case, it would be much less kind - but also much more accurate - to call it yelling.)

Dominic: Papa?  Is the priest going to face that way for the whole Mass?

Papa: Yes.

Dominic: Oh, cool!

More promising than this, to be sure:

Sean: Mama?  Why is Father Drew talking in Spanish?

Mama: That’s Latin, Sean.

Sean: Oh.

…

Sean: When Father Randy says Mass, he uses REAL words.

As Mass went on, things started to deteriorate on the Dominic front, as well.

Dominic (speaking to himself): Why isn’t Father saying anything?

Dr. Mortensen, selected as altar server by virtue of his familiarity with the Rite, was busily performing his “serverly” duties. This included moving the book from one side of the altar to the other.

Dominic: Papa? Why does Dr. Mortensen keep moving back and forth all the time?

(In fairness to Dominic, Fr. Bob said that he often wonders the same thing.)

But now for the pièce de résistance:

Dominic: Papa?

Papa: Yes?

Dominic: If this were a REAL Mass, would we be standing right now?

Teaching opportunities abound.