140: Last Day

Today was my last day at my job, and I felt some pressure to find all the great photo ops in the vicinity. This was in a window as I walked from my car into the shop.

During a break, I took a walk in the alley behind my job. For some of the non-blue photos, you can go here. One of my favorites in the day lily shot.

This shot, a stop on the way home, was inspired by Jehan's New York 365 project, particularly this image. Hoping to try this scene again when the lighting is not so bright.

125: Looking In

118: Saw Blades

 

111: Death Rides on a Rodent

Discovered at work today. I don't know and I didn't ask.

98: Self-Protection

83: Back to Reality

Reality, as in, the regular, non-mosaic Saturday job.

I swear there is a smidge of blue paint to the left of the chair. Click on it to see the large (huge) version if you want to be sure. This surprise encounter in the alley on the way to work was too wonderful not to share.

Sweet little lonely barrette. As long as you're clicking on photos, go ahead with this one, too. I think it reads better in a larger version.

Closing up shop at the end of the season. This is next door to my job.

69: In the Alley, or Motorcycle Repair

I spent a little time exploring the alley behind my regular Saturday job this morning.

The shop next door is a motorcycle repair shop.

As much as I have loved the last week of mosaic-making, motorcycles was a nice change of pace.

I haven't worked full-time for six days in a row since long before my son was born, four and a half years ago. Looking forward to reconnecting with my family tomorrow.

62: Tools

35: Back at Work

After a fairly mild winter at our house, our little family seems to be catching one thing after another lately. I missed work last week as a result, but I was back at it today. Last time I posted about my job, I wondered if anyone could guess what I do based on the photos I post. I'll fill you in at the very end of this entry. In the meantime, some clues. The first three pictures are tools used by others at my workplace.

Now a couple of self portraits. I always think it's funny to see these images of myself and my family when I'm at work. As a disclaimer, I'd like to point out that my boss and his wife hung these.

The next two shots are of my workspace and the tools I use.

And finally, the storage area for incoming and completed projects.

Okay, ready for the answer? I work as a finishing assistant to a furniture conservator. It's not a bad job, and I get to see and work on some pretty cool stuff.

20: J.O.B.

Last Saturday, I looked around my job and noticed a lot of blue, potentially photographic moments. So I dubbed this week, "Take Your Camera to Work Week." Only problem, my normally quiet-on-the-weekends workplace was hoppin' today. And I have performance anxiety when it comes to taking photos.

In point of fact, one of my goals in this project is to face that particular demon down.  But c'mon, we're just starting out here. Can't I face that demon next week, or better yet, next month? Which is precisely what I was thinking when I took these few photos on a quick break when I was alone in the building.

For the most part, I'm not particularly satisfied with the results of Take Your Camera to Work Week, although I do like this last one. I wonder if I'd gone ahead and faced that Performance Anxiety Monster, would I be more impressed?


On another note, I'm thinking about a silly game called "Guess My Job." Can you guess what I do, if you don't know already, based on the pictures I post on Saturdays (sometimes Sundays)? Here's a clue from a few weeks ago.

Back at home, in the bosom of my family, where I can take whatever crazy photo I want to without worrying what anybody's thinking. My husband turned the light on as he walked into the room during the shoot, wondering what I was doing in the dark. I turned to him with a disgruntled "Dude!" and without a word, he  turned the light off and walked the rest of the way into the room. At home, I own myself as "photographer." Out in the world, still a work in progress.