Say Cheese!

A few weeks ago (weeks, months, they are all blending right now) I signed up for one of those community classes – Camera Smarts: Want photography to be as EASY as possible? Learn the secrets of getting professional looking photos, using just the automatic modes of your camera. Don't spoil another birthday or special event. Come learn how to get the most out of your digital camera. Everyone needs a little "camera smarts".

It’s a two-day course, 4-hours a day. Last night was my first class. The minute I walked into the class I realized just how long it has been since I’ve been a student. I thought I was doing well because I had brought my camera with me. Camera Smarts = using my camera, right? I realized my mistake as I looked at everyone sitting there with notepads and pens (not very high tech, techies would have brought a laptop… I should have brought a laptop). Let me interject here that I have trained adult classes for the past 10 years, so you’d think I would have realized what I needed to bring with me. I didn’t even have a pen. I had to run back to my car to get a pen, and then I had to borrow paper from the young lady sitting next to me. Holy cow!

The class was amazing. I learned more about my digital camera in four hours than I had in the months since I’ve owned it. Of course, I would probably know more if I would read the manual, but who wants to read those? The instructor was very knowledgeable, even if he was 10 (ok, he was probably in his late 20’s, but give me my moment of bitterness). Unfortunately my company scheduled an “emergency” trip for next week, so I’m missing the other four hours of class. Argh – the frustration.


I also realized that I might be watching too much BBC/Jane Austen/etc. The instructor started talking about when he went to Brighton and some of the amazing pictures he took. My immediate thought was Brighton, England. I had all the imagery in mind… beaches, ancient architecture, the works. I was very confused when he started talking about snow. It can’t snow in Brighton! Oh, of course, Brighton Ski Resort, which would have been the first thought of any Utah native, but, oh no, not this one. I am an expatriate still living in Utah. ☺

By the way, I had my second night of bowling league tonight. After another rocky start (my first game was 107 or something), I bowled a 173 – I closed every frame but the tenth frame. My third game was a 153. I’m a total bowler!

Instructional ≠ Beginner

Tonight was my first night participating in a bowling league. I was bowling last Saturday and the owner of the bowling alley approached me about participating in a Women's Instructional League. Hmmm... instructional... that would be helpful. Learning how to bowl with a bunch of other beginners? Awesome! And my mom and dad were both big bowlers back in the day. My mom bowled in a Women's League, my dad in a Men's League, and they bowled together in a Mixed League.

I arrived at the bowling alley a little early. I've been looking forward to this, and I'm ready to learn. However, as several of the other women arrive, I realize that I'm in trouble - most of them have their own bowling ball. Strike One (pun totally intended). Then, ALL the women start putting on their own bowling shoes. Strike Two. My bowling partner was this adorable septuagenarian who starts telling me about all of the bowling tournaments she's participated in and how she's been bowling in leagues for the past 50 years. Strike Three. So much for bowling with other beginners, eh?

My bowling score has improved greatly over the past few months - I frequently bowl with co-workers, my friend, Amanda and my roommate, Jeff. However, my first game this evening was appalling. I wanted to sue the instructor for false advertising. Instructional, my foot. However, it wasn't false advertising - we did get a lot of instruction, which is actually really cool, but as I'm trying to correct months of bad posture, bad ball handling, etc., I just bowled poorly (I didn't even break 100). All I could do was laugh. Yes, there was a point in the evening where I wanted to cry, but I laughed and laughed instead. My poor bowling partner - who's high score was 181 (seriously, she's in her 70's and she bowled a 181?) - was trying to be so encouraging. It was adorable.

I will persevere, of course. Now that I know what to expect, how much worse can it get, right?