I bought a pumpkin last week, but it rotted before I got around to carving it. So I busted out with a small orange squash instead, and it worked swell.

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C. and I spent Saturday afternoon transforming her into Amy Winehouse. You know someone is your good friend when they let you spend a couple of hours pointing multiple cameras at them. (Which is why the color profiles don’t match in these photos. I’m not smart enough to fix that yet.) You know they’re your bestest local friend when they send you home with a pound and a half of cheese, and not the yellow supermarket cheez either. Cave-aged, grass-fed, local Farmers Market stuff.

It’s a little hard to see here, but there are syringes in her wig and cleavage, plus slash marks on one arm. It was a lot of fun to watch her put it together. Her commentary on the whole thing is here, so go say hi.

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InaDWriMo starts tomorrow, and I’m as ready as I’m going to get. The house is sorta clean, I’ve figured out a schedule, and the students are moving into the part of the semester where I do far more grading than prep. I have a big pile o' diss stuff, both resources and my own writing, although I’m also still collecting data. And I have a button and word meter on the sidebar.

Setting the word-count goal for this next month has been difficult. I figured out in my second semester of doctoral coursework that I would probably write a diss on Wikipedia, so I started throwing seminar papers at the topic then. I discovered the Chambers Cyclopaedia in my last semester of courses, so that seminar paper went to that, as have one conference presentation and one article. As much of my exam writing went to the project as possible, and I've written various other scraps since then. And, of course, the diss proposal.

So I have a big pile of words already — somewhere between 100 and 140 pages. But it’s not anything yet. Some of it’s redundant (because I had to keep explaining wikis to people for awhile), some of it is about Wikipedia three years ago (anarchic) versus Wikipedia now (guild structures). So my goals for November are twofold, I suppose:
1. Weed and revise the writing. I dumped it into unedited chapters last April, but the overall structure has changed during the proposal defense as my committee hashed it over, and I’ve tweaked it again since then. Everything needs to be re-sorted and re-written. And then there’s a ton of new stuff that needs to be generated. Do so.
2. Do the new data collection that I finally became convinced is a needful thing. Get it collected and get the coding pushed as far along as possible.

It would probably be most sensible to code first and then write, but that also gives me permission to put off the writing for even longer. And besides, the coding is not going to change the historical parts of this thing. It’s not like I’m going to write the conclusion now, but there’s no reason I can’t move along with the intro and methodology sections, as well as the analysis I’ve already done on Chambers’ 1728 Preface. Racking up some words that I feel are at least a draft instead of a pile of things is the only way I’m going to start feeling better about this whole endeavor. If I was doing straight writing, I would set the goal higher than 20,000 words because, well, a lot of this month is about revising old material. But there’s also collecting and coding, which are a huge chunk of time. So big a chunk that listing both of these things together is making me hyperventilate a little. But I think the pressure will be helpful right now.

Here’s the project abstract, in case you’re curious about what I’m slaving away on:

Wikipedia is often discussed as a textual revolution: the first massively collaborative, Internet-based encyclopedia that belongs to the public domain. While it’s true that wiki technology does afford large-scale collaboration that we have not been able to achieve in the past, the concept of a collaboratively produced encyclopedia is not new, and neither is the idea that private ownership might not apply to such documents. More than 275 years ago, in the preface to the 1728 edition of his Cyclopædia, Ephraim Chambers mused on the intensely collaborative nature of the volumes he was about to publish. His thoughts were remarkably similar to contemporary intellectual property arguments for Wikipedia, and the compilation and structure of these encyclopedias demonstrate numerous similarities. Ten years later, he solicited and incorporated public submissions into the second edition.

This dissertation employs a grounded, mixed method approach to examine issues of authorship and ownership in these two texts. The research will demonstrate that the “Author Construct” is not static across eras, genres, or print technologies. In contrast to traditional considerations of the poetic author, the encyclopedic author engages with different issues of agency, authority, identity, and trust. These variations challenge contemporary ideas concerning the difference between print and digital authorship as well as the notion that new media intellectual property arguments are without historical precedent. More broadly, this study contributes to an understanding of the role of authorship and ownership in the current heated discourse concerning intellectual property.

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Lately, a couple of folks have asked me if they should go to grad school for an MA instead of an MS. Like just about everyone else, I'd say no. If there’s anything else you’d be happy doing, you should do it, particularly if it pays well and isn’t all-consuming. If you’re still thoroughly convinced an MA or PhD is what you want, then my answer changes to maybe — but only if you have some practical frame of reference because you racked up a a few years of industry experience. There’s a big difference between “I don’t know what else to do” or “I don’t know what else is out there and am scared to find out” and “Dude, this is really where I want to be because it makes me happier than any of the alternatives.”

If, after all that, this is something you really do want to consider, then do your research. (And if the idea of doing this research repulses or merely bores you, that’s a pretty solid clue that this isn’t your line of work.) Make sure there aren’t going to be surprises — especially about the job market. I know some very smart people who still, in this day and age, are surprised that their English PhDs haven’t resulted in a tenure-track Literature job. Nobody told them and they didn’t go looking for the answers before they started. I was lucky in this regard: the second I said out loud that I wanted a Lit PhD, someone sat me down and asked me if I ever wanted a job or an income. Look up the average student loan debt in your field and the average number of years until you might achieve a decent income. Read a bunch of academic blogs and get a solid understanding of the general work load of a grad student or professor. Find out what will be expected of your teaching and your research, and where you think you might fit in the university hierarchy. Consider whether or not you really care where you live. Begin to build some sort of vision of who you think you might want to be and who you might be able to be as an academic, and what the actual day-to-day reality of that life might look like. Consider the worst-case scenario as well as your romantic ideal, and figure out if you can live with both of them or something in-between.

I am happy being a grad student, but part of the reason for that is because I tried to minimize the surprises as much as possible. (Which doesn't mean there haven’t been some unavoidable ones anyway.) The books above were helpful for me. I started with Getting What You Came For, which I still recommend to the occasional student who tells me they really, no kidding, want a graduate degree. If you get through it and still want to sign up, then read the others to get an idea of what might be expected of your teaching and what you’ll go through when you’re looking for a job. Keep reading academic blogs as well, because there’s really no substitute for real-world commentary (although you’ll also find a ton of negativity there; nobody wants to write about the good stuff very often.)

Grad school can be a lovely thing, full of mind-blowing revelations and smart conversations and interesting students. It’s also late nights and low pay and each of those revelations comes with the attendant realization that what you thought before was probably wrong. It demands a certain sort of personality, occasionally insane drive, the willingness to delay gratification, and a modicum of luck. Best to educate yourself in order to minimize your reliance on the luck part of that equation.

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— Stephen Dobyns

My stepdaughter and I circle round and round.
You see, I like the music loud, the speakers
throbbing, jam-packing the room with sound whether
Bach or rock and roll, the volume cranked up so
each bass notes is like a hand smacking the gut.
But my stepdaughter disagrees. She is four
and likes the music decorous, pitched below
her own voice-that tenuous projection of self.
With music blasting, she feels she disappears,
is lost within the blare, which in fact I like.
But at four what she wants is self-location
and uses her voice as a porpoise uses
its sonar: to find herself in all this space.
If she had a sort of box with a peephole
and looked inside, what she'd like to see would be
herself standing there in her red pants, jacket,
yellow plastic lunch box: a proper subject
for serious study. But me, if I raised
the same box to my eye, I would wish to find
the ocean on one of those days when wind
and thick cloud make the water gray and restless
as if some creature brooded underneath,
a rocky coast with a road along the shore
where someone like me was walking and has gone.
Loud music does this, it wipes out the ego,
leaving turbulent water and winding road,
a landscape stripped of people and language-
how clear the air becomes, how sharp the colors.

(Via Scrivener, who has a new home.)

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MST3K will return as Cinematic Titanic! I am a-quiver with anticipation.

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My mother always captured bugs and took them outside when I was growing up, which is admirable. But now that I run my own house, I pursue a scorched-earth policy with the insects, if for no other reason that I cannot stand to get close enough to them to catch them. (Sorry, Mom!) I tend toward smushing, while Mister Husband leans toward hosing them down with some ammonia-based cleaning product. (Works well, less toxic than bug spray.)

So there's usually nothing multi-legged in the house, or if there is its stay is rather short. But now... now is the time of the year when the ladybugs want to get warm. There are three living by the warmth of Mister Husband’s lamp in the living room, and three clustered around a window in our bedroom. I am opposed to their being in my space on general principle, but it’s not like they’re hurting anything. And I cannot kill a ladybug, since they’re good luck.

So I guess we’ll just learn to get along for the time being. Le sigh. At least they’ll probably let me make portraits of them.

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(Downtown Fargo, ND about a month ago.)

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The world totally needs more glitter fish. And fish with reading glasses. And photos taken by my dad.

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What We Need Is Here
Wendell Berry

Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.

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About a year ago, one of my Scientific & Technical Presentations students did an informative presentation on the $100 Laptop. Her audience was my unusually diverse class (although it’s really not so unusual in the Twin Cities). She was Moldovian, and there were students from Thailand, China, Ethiopia, and Somalia as well. (The Somalian guys ended up being some of my favorite rambunctious students ever. But I digress. They deserve a post all their own someday.)

The presentation was more or less an encomium for the project and Negroponte, as so many pieces on the topic are. When she finished and asked for questions, H., who was the only Ethiopian in the group, raised his hand. He rarely spoke in class and stood apart from the other Africans he hung with; he was quieter, taller, and thinner. Skeletally thin still, having been born during the mid-80s famine in Ethiopia.

He was a remarkably reserved man, but when he spoke this time, his voice shook with anger. “People who are starving do not need laptops,” he said in his softly accented English. “When you have not eaten for so long that your brain cannot work, that you have dementia, a laptop will not help you. Sending us machines does no good! You need to send food to Africa. You need to send doctors and medicine. Not computers!” He stopped then, not wanting to insult the speaker. She looked at me, along with the American students. Clearly, there was no rebuttal for his argument, and no opposition to his ethos.

I was reminded of that moment the other night while watching the 60 Minutes special on Plumpynut. The product is being called “a revolution in nutritional affairs,” and it provides a new, hopeful solution for starving populations. It’s a paste made of peanut butter, powdered milk, powdered sugar, and enriched with vitamins and minerals. It doesn’t require refrigeration, cooking, or water. The chief nutritionist for Doctors Without Borders said in the interview, “It is like an essential medicine. In three weeks, we can cure a kid that is looked like they’re half dead. We can cure them just like an antibiotic. It’s just, boom! It's a spectacular response.”

Watching the video (linked above), all I could think about was H.’s impassioned speech. These kids don’t need laptops. They need food and doctors. A month’s supply of Plumpynut costs $20 per child. The real cost of the $100 Laptop — between $140 and $208, depending on what you read— could feed a child for 7 - 10.5 months. In terms of childhood development, that’s a tremendously significant length of time.

Before, I might have been able to come up with an argument against that — educational resources, cultural participation, etc etc etc — but my students teach me, and sometimes they change me. I cannot find a compelling counterargument for H’s speech these days. Certainly there are not-quite-so-impovershed countries who will benefit from this program. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that we are none of us free until all of us are free.

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I finished off some homemade vegetable beef stew with a nice wedge of Manhattan Fenceline cheddar at lunch yesterday. A first try at apple butter on Sunday came out pretty well. I'm eating it in hot grain cereals in the mornings because yes, it's finally cool enough for them. I got behind on the squash from the CSA box, and they're piling up in the kitchen, destined for soup. There are sweet potatoes in the bin that are about to become either pudding or pie. Tonight, though, will be pork roast, brussels sprouts cut from the stalk, and leek risotto.

Why is it always about food with me? I suppose it’s partly because I never really feel like cooking in the summer. There's so much produce available then that’s best when it’s not fiddled with much, and my reverse-SAD also always kicks in. But I perk back up when the weather changes, and the nesting urge usually picks up then as well. And so I start cooking again.

Of course there's other clues:

Plus lite-brite trees and 50ish temperatures. My students are wearing their customary sweaters and flip-flops. No snow yet, though.

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From the Associated Press release:

Two Associated Press journalists sued Arkansas officials Friday for allegedly violating the state’s Freedom of Information Act by withholding information about which government computers were used to edit entries on Wikipedia.
In August, Gambrell reported that state computers were used to edit information about Republican presidential candidate and former Gov. Mike Huckabee, Beebe and others. Using a Web site called WikiScanner that tracks changes to Wikipedia, Gambrell could see that the edits were made by computers with numeric Internet addresses assigned to the state.
Huckabee’s entry was changed to delete information about a controversial pardon and his frequent use of a state-owned airplane while Beebe’s was changed to eliminate an inaccurate reference to his having a male “life partner” rather than his wife Ginger.

One of the local news stations reports on the state’s refusal to comply:

The director of the Arkansas’ Department of Information Systems said in court papers Thursday that revealing which computers were used to edit entries on the Wikipedia Web site would pose a security risk to state computers.
In the filing, Bailey said that security consultants told the department’s attorney that revealing the physical locations of five computers used to edit information about politicians on the popular site “heightens the vulnerability of that state agency and heightens the security risk to the state network.”

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There’s both a quaking bog and a marsh nearby, but we visit the marsh much more often simply because it’s closer. Yesterday, I got up at dark-thirty and worked my way through a breakfast meeting, advance responses to student drafts, figuring out storage solutions for the coming onslaught of diss-related website PDFs, doing some actual research, and a pile o' email. So when Mister Husband appeared in my study at 4 and suggested heading out to the marsh and then Chinese for dinner, I got right up and put on my shoes.

Some of the boardwalk needs repairs or is nearly submerged, but there’s a good stretch that’s pretty new. The marsh has a different beauty this time of year, a more muted range of color splotched with bright leaves and brilliant green duckweed. There’s always a lot of texture there, but I see even more of it in the fall. Usually there are geese and ducks and herons, but nobody was stirring yesterday. It was just the two of us tromping along the boards, and eventually hurrying back under the first raindrops.

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I think is my new favorite picture of myself. It’s by Mister Husband, of course.

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Lina (who I only just discovered and blogrolled) is suggesting the resurrection of InaDWriMo in November. I’m in. Anybody else?

Update: Official sign-up is here.

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The weather changed last week, and now it’s the way it should be: 50s, drizzly. I love fall. But I also wonder where this year has gone.

I had a breakthrough on the dissertation. Feels crucial to me, but it also feels pretentious to call it that.

I’ve been having nightmares since the weather changed. This morning, I just woke up with a sense of foreboding. I guess that’s an improvement.

My parents are off on a biking vacation and seem to be having an awesome time. I’m happy for them. And it reminds me that you never run out of new things to do.

My MIL spent most of last week in the hospital.

Difficult times for several of my friends. And for some bloggers I know.

I care too much about people. I don’t necessarily want to change that, but it’s hard.

We have tickets to Rollins' spoken-word show tonight. And to Neil Young next month. We’re not going to see Bill Frisell’s Disfarmer Project, though. The tickets budget can only swell so much, and Neil broke it. (The Minneapolis date is the cheapest on his current tour, though.)

Today is grading day. I can't put it off because more is coming in on Thursday.

I made no photographs this weekend, but Compatriot G and I went for a walk along the river in the sunshine Saturday afternoon and then I went to dinner with Mister Husband last night. So I did in fact go out of the house.

But I didn’t cook. The fridge has to be purged of leftovers before I can cook anything new. Nothing else will fit in there.

Our fifth anniversary is next week. Dude. Half a decade.

This month is a mixed bag. This month is washed salad greens after they’ve been spun. This month is fall trees after a storm. This month is papers flung into a pile, waiting to be sorted. This month is a jumbled candy jar, with the ones you want on the bottom. This month is sweaters! No, coats! No, shorts! No, sweaters! This month is all the cereal shaken together in one box. This month is a snuggly pile-on of unwashed puppies. This month is money in the IRA but not money in the checking account. This month is loose semi-precious stones in the bottom of your grandma's sock drawer.

Oy. This month.

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This is the city hall in Bloomfield, Iowa. The sign outside is quite informative, and proudly reports that the place was once scaled by a human fly in the 1930s. Also that it's a fine example of Second Empire architecture.

It was so much greener just one state south, and the grass pushed the greenness right up against the old glass phone booth that still resides in the city square.

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More by clicking on the image.

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Via Minnesota Stories.

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So we spent ten days more or less on the road, going up to Fargo for Mister Husband’s talk at the Linguistic Circle of Manitoba and North Dakota conference (which I didn’t attend), then back to teach, and then down to Little Rock for Feminisms and Rhetorics. The second part of that was a sprint, driving down into increasingly hotter weather and a veil of green, arriving late Thursday, then leaving mid-day Saturday and heading back up. One morning in Fargo, I put off shooting in favor of an hour drinking diner coffee because it was so nippy outside. The tree outside our bedroom had already turned brilliant yellow, and I was wearing sweaters to night lectures. When I called Mom during my packing to ask if I could get away with wearing a light wool suit down there, she laughed. “Well, what’s the appropriate level of clothing?” I asked. “Nekkid,” she replied. So I packed up a summer conference outfit, and it was the right thing. Except for the fact that it was black, and I roasted in the sun late one afternoon in the 90 degree heat while waiting for Mister Husband to get the car.

Back in St. Paul last night, I wore a coat on my walk to Matt’s talk and wished I had brought a hat. Earlier I had driven to an appointment in the rain, over bright leaves blown across the pavement.

Feminisms and Rhetorics was great, and seemed to run like clockwork. The only possible complaint I’ve heard was about the lack of A/V technology. Barb did a great job putting everything together, and I’m glad to see so many people giving her props on the FemRhet listserv.

I remember wandering around CCCC with Scott back in 2004, when he was fresh out of grad school, and him commenting that it was the first conference that really felt like a reunion for him. This is the first one that felt that way for me. I got to see folks from my Master’s program as well as people from Minnesota who have moved on to the professoriate and folks I know from various other places, and it was great. I got to introduce my old colleague Jessica Reyman’s featured talk on “Copyright, Feminism, and Digital Discourse,” which was all kinds of smart. All of it brought the realization of what an awesome group of women are in the discipline.

Our panel centered around the theme of public trusts. I talked about Wikipedia and Jeff talked about the invisibility of women photographers in 19th century photographic parlors. Mary Jo Wiatrek-Uhlenkott talked about public breastfeeding and indecency law, and got a wonderful reception. Her paper was smart and interesting and her delivery was excellent. And it was a great topic to discuss at this sort of a conference; the Q&A was entirely about her paper. Women really do like to talk about boobs (actually, doesn’t everyone?), and smart women have some very smart things about them. The audience also consisted of quite a few women who are either currently breastfeeding or planning to in the near future. (Mary Jo leaned over to apologize for all the attention after a bit, and I was all, “Don't worry, go for it!”) It was her first conference paper, and it was awesome to see her get such a great response to it. I’m sure it won’t be the last time.

A vaguely related note: We went to the traveling Smithsonian exhibit on Jim Henson with my parents the next morning, over at the Arkansas Arts Center. (More on which later.) Afterwards, I wandered through the gift shop in search of a show catalogue. No luck, but they did have some random Henson merchandise. I ended up a stuffed Fraggle: Boober.

Going to a conference in my hometown was thoroughly odd, because I’m used to being a little bit enjoyably lost at these things, and this time I was one of the ones who knew where stuff was. Walking up the steps to the DoubleTree in downtown Little Rock gave me a flashback to the last time I was there, in 1996. Tori Amos was playing Robinson Center next door, and I was waiting out front with the rest of the faithful, lounging in the brick plaza.

Being home also meant that I got to zip off across town for lunch with my best friend Gina, who picked me up in her new itty bitty convertible with the huge motor. We only get to see each other once or twice a year lately, and we had a great conversation. (No setting stuff on fire this time, though. We took care of that back in May.) I’m hoping she’ll be able to come up here sometime during the winter.

It also meant that we got to stay with my parents and spent some time with them. We only managed dinner, breakfast, and the Arts Center, but it was so good to hang out for awhile, especially since they’re not coming up this way this fall.

Another “The Shuffle Knows” moment: Driving back past Branson, having passed the sign for Dolly Parton’s Dixie Stampede, her cover of Great Balls of Fire came on. It’s from a Dolly all-covers CD I found in a gas station outside Memphis after RSA 2006, and it’s mostly just Dolly and a Casio keytar, or at least that’s what it sounds like. The versions of House of the Rising Sun and Harper Valley PTA are, how shall we say, quite something else.

(Previously: The Shuffle Knows I and II.)

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Somewhere in the Ozarks, I met these two. I worried for about ten seconds that they’d be upset at us photographing in their territory, until they started begging for petting. They were clean and well taken care of, and we had a grand time. Mister Husband snapped an alternate view here, and had to stop me from becoming a puppy rustler when it was time to leave.

I loves the puppies. And the puppies love me.

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Via 12 Frogs, a meme to ease back into things.

20 Years Ago, I… was starting yet another new private school, unhappy, and frustrated by the lack of prospects for change that were available to an 11 year old.

15 Years Ago, I… was getting myself admitted to college early, starting my second year at my first job, and falling in love for the first time.

10 Years Ago, I… was working in National Accounts at UPS and bleeding brown. I was on the fence about the whole going-back-to-school thing, which I finally did at the last possible second in the spring semester.

5 Years Ago, I… quit my job and started graduate school full-time. My whole life changed that semester in a number of ways, not the least of which was that I met Mister Husband-To-Be.

2 Years Ago, I… started my second year of Ph.D. work and second year of Minnesotaness. I had just gotten back from a late-September conference sprint and driven across Wisconsin for the first time.

1 Year Ago, I…. was sweating over exams prep and driving everyone around me crazy. I also turned 30.

So far this year, I’ve… taken up photography again, cooked nearly every day, written a prospectus, amassed a pile o' Diss Stuff that terrifies me, and discovered coffee.

Yesterday, I… drove back to St. Paul from Jefferson City, MO.

Today, I… got up early for an appointment, then came back to start sorting through email, prepping for class tomorrow, and contemplating a grocery run. I’m thinking chile verde for dinner. Or else pozole.

Tomorrow, I’ll… teach and swim and dissertate, and then head over to the other campus in the evening for Matt Barton’s talk on teaching with wikis. Prof. Beach originally invited me, but I thought Matt would be better for this topic and I would be better for blogs, and that’s how it worked out.

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So’s I might stand a chance of not forgetting by next week, when I might actually have time to write again:
- Diss overwhelmedness, a la Bullet #2 in this post of Billie’s.
- The UMN caves. Which I’ve been meaning to write about for, no kidding, 3 years now.
- Fargo, specifically the Plains Art Museum and what it has to do with my Dad.
- The preponderance of Vikings in northwest Minnesota.
- Frustration with the U’s choice of wiki systems.
- Standing on Sinclair Lewis’ Main Street in Sauk Center, MN.
- The lecture on Digital Composition that I did last week for a grad seminar, and the related course I taught last Spring.
- Undoubtedly more photos. I’d love to be able to articulate what this shift toward photography has to do with my research and writing processes, but I’m not sure that’s possible just yet.

To close, one actual thing briefly stated in its entirety: If you’re the sort of person who picks up on other people’s moods and you’re in need of a boost, one of the best things you can do is make an airport run to drop off a friend who’s headed off to a long-distance rendezvous with a new love. I got a ton done after that, and I’m still happy for no good reason of my own.

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So I was fiddling around with stuff on the sidebar yesterday and didn't notice that I deleted half of my template until it was too late. And even though I am the Backup Queen, I somehow managed not to create a backup of the Brand New Template. And I can’t pester Steve too much, since he just had the cutest Doozer Baby a week ago. (That's the only not-stupid part of this. In fact, that's the awesome part.) And anyway, if I were him I wouldn’t be too interested in fixing something caused by such frank idiocy. And I don’t have time to [incompetently] dive in myself, since we’re headed off to FemRhet tomorrow morning.

But the entries are back, thanks to Mister Husband. A lot of the formatting is still wonky, but it’s functional enough to wait until we return on Sunday. So hey, more photos of the center of the country! And possibly scholarly things!

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While Mister Husband was busy at a conference at North Dakota State, I wandered around downtown Fargo with the new Nikon D80, which was made possible by a generous grant from my parents. I still haven’t got the exposures quite right on these, but I’ll learn. One of the best things about Fargo is that the inhabitants have mostly held on to their old storefront signs and side-of-building advertisements.

Full set here, which includes quite a few smaller towns along the way. Some photos are with the D80 and some are with my trusty standby Lumix. I have no plans to abandon it — it’s so small that people don’t really take it seriously, whereas the D80 makes most folks a little shy. I also shot with the Nikomat, but it’ll take me awhile to get around to having those processed.

When did I become a person who hits the road with at least three cameras on hand? It turned out not to be enough, because the long stretches of prairie made me want to dig out Mister Husband’s 4x5 Speed Graphic and figure it out.

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