Cat’s been Away, Let’s Play With A Secret or Two

You know the old saying, “When the cat’s away . . . . the mice will play”? Well, if you don’t, you heard it now . . . . and I didn’t make up.

Time for me to confess, OK?

I’ve been playing . . . . in my own creative way, here on this lovely site. Everything about me, from my perspective has been Divinely . . . . “gifted” to me.

How do I explain something you don’t know about me, and my creative abilities? (Just thinking literally, but not out loud . . . . because that’s ‘kind of’ how I write.)

Let’s begin with my photography.  I’ll let you in on my natural, and creative . . . . artistry secret.

When a magician reveals secrets its always fun, so this may be of interest to you. Despite what one may think . . . . not everyone is artistic with their photography. Something tells me, you already know that, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.  Am I right?

Every now and then, I will refer to myself as a “blind photographer”. Allow me to attempt at explaining what I mean by saying that. It sounds so odd, wouldn’t you agree?

Wait for it.

Ready, or not!


I wear glasses because I REALLY need them to see at a distance . . . . and up close. Without my glasses I can’t see, but they’re not even thick. In fact, sometimes with my glasses I still can’t see . . . . sounds like a problem to me. (I got some bad advice on an optometrist. Hindsight being 20/20 . . . . I’d definitely reconsider my source.)

When I take serious photographs, I do not wear my glasses, and prefer them resting on my head, instead. . . . like a pair of sunglasses. (How on God’s green Earth . . . . does that make any sense?) I find them to be an obstruction!

I had a mentor who is a professional photographer, and much like when I was deer hunting . . . . killing a doe with one shot . . . . I asked, “Just tell me what I’m supposed to see?” . . . . opposed to yelling, “Wait, tell me . . . . where am I supposed to hit it?”

Aim, silently tell her to move, steady my nervous self, because I’m an animal lover, and she didn’t listen (she couldn’t hear me) . . . . pull trigger . . . . BOOM! Killed her. One shot.

Aim, steady myself . . . . CLICK! Photograph. One shot. Exactly, what I was hoping for . . . . the American Flag in a few drops of water, but upright with the flag (blurred) upside down in the background . . . . for proof.

Future reference: True reflections in water will be visible to the viewer as upside down. (Example: right here.)

I had my sights set on a purpose and needed to know how to reach the intended result . . . . a crappy, amateur, replica on my little red pocket sized camera.  It came out fairly nice considering the device. Mission accomplished.

See, I was taught photography conversing over a cellphone, duplicating some wildly beautiful photography I had seen, via a natural ability of mine.  Meanwhile, challenged to mastering selfie reflections with a pocket sized Kodak . . . . purchased on QVC, used so much that I eventually broke it.

The ultimate challenge was the top left photograph reflecting our American flag in the goggles. Trying to hide the camera is nearly impossible in shots like that, and many times photography is literally a one time shot!

I’m one of the few who can say, “I broke a camera with my own face”.

From there I got my first real camera, with a sweet lens to boot (a Nikon, my favorite model, which I hope to replace . . . . you get the picture! I let it Rest in Peace very humanely . . . . I laid it down before forcing its “final click”). Like my mother, I treat mechanical things with respect, we both kind of “talk to it”, when it isn’t functioning, learn how to help it, and give it a rest.

Otherwise . . . . I break stuff.  Sometimes it’s not my fault, and this is what I don’t like about cellphones and photos.

Phone Exploded

I was like a racehorse anxiously ready in the gates (once again) . . . . to burst out running full speed to master another form of creativity while knowing absolutely nothing about technology.

In the meantime, I had mastered the cellphone “selfie” before the label debuted, and long before the Kardashian’s had an inkling of the thought . . . . but again, nobody knew. I figured out how to take photos of myself without a trace that it was me holding my own cellphone.

The weirdest part about it all, is . . . . I couldn’t see one thing I ever did or do. It all came to me by “sense”, and rarely did I miss a shot. Those were funny to see; yet by choice, I sure deleted a lot!

Back to the real camera again . . . . not once did I use a remote, or a tripod. I used it like a sharpshooter, held my breath until I was as still as I could possibly be, and then let the camera do its thing.

Liken it to a carpenter swinging a hammer . . . . if you will (my mother used to call it a “hammra” so it rhymes with camera, in my silly world). Anyone who knows anything about carpentry and hammers . . . . clearly understands the utility intricacies of swinging the appropriate hammer. You also let it work for you, or you are dumber . . . . than a box of hammers!


I’ve obviously swung an appropriate hammer a time or two, and know there’s a beautifully timed art behind the trade of being a much needed “roofer” . . . . before the day of air compressed hammers.

As a “roofer” finds his rhythmic stride, I can also set up and time . . . . a falling drop of water. THAT . . . . is how detailed and studious I am with my “artistry”. My absolute best photograph of a “falling drop of water” . . . . I set up, by spritzing water on a neighbor’s leaf . . . . while on the cellphone, balancing it on my ear, with my glasses on the top of my head, camera in one hand, spritzer bottle in the other, talking to my mentor . . . . all at the same time. Watch, wait . . . . time, click as it falls . . . . one shot, and it’s mine!

I’m like a little circus act, and finding my humor like my ole “Kat” . . . . in an empty box, paper bag, or walking on the keyboard of my laptop literally typing out words! It’s the simple things in life that bring out the artistic creative beauty in photographic art.

Every single photograph I have in my possession (but not accessible) . . . . has a distinct memory attached. I asked permission to take photographs of my neighbor’s gardens and plants, too. Always be polite.

It’s really difficult not to get distracted with my own thoughts. What you can’t see are the beautiful images running through my mind.

We’re not quite finished though.

Because, sometimes I depend upon my ears . . . . to hear my targeted photograph. It’s that time of year too, for college football and different aircraft passing over the football stadium.

Each time the flight pattern would change, and the public is never told, so I guessed at the time, took off my glasses, ran outside and listened.  Once, unable to see yet I could hear . . . . but the direction wasn’t clear to me, I yelled out to others nearby asking where they heard the jets coming from . . . . Aaaand, those are by far the most intriguing photographs that I’m not going to share, because I’m going to share these instead.

It gives a bit of perspective on what I had to do in a few seconds . . . . by ear, heart racing . . . . my thrill, houses so near . . . . telephone wires crossing right in the way.

I’m guessing on this thing called . . . . shutter speed, and I think lighting. Two dials that moved in opposite directions that I mastered so meticulously, not really understanding what composition meant until several years later when I made an older man cry, at the sight of his childhood home doing a surprise “drive-by” photo shoot . . . . on the sly for him.

I couldn’t have a conversation on photography or cameras if my life depended on it.  I’d have to choose death, because that’s how incredibly little I know.

How strangely beautiful is that? Some things you just can’t make up . . . . my life is full of those stories!

Which leads me to what we are doing now.

My writing “like this”, which is different than “this right here”, began as poetry several years ago, then I let it sit until recently.

God distinctly gave it to me as yet another gift. A necessary and desired way to express myself, and unbeknownst to me until much, much later . . . . it was designed to show me a reflection of my life . . . . minus the emotional pain.

SO, what did I do?

I listened to that second video where I wrote about Paul Harvey, right here . . . . and allowed it to Providentially settle in, because I do that while in this precious solitude bestowed upon me . . . . for now.

After publishing poetry and realizing that most really don’t like reading it, when it’s labeled as such . . . . I did what I had not ever seen at the time, blended my poetry in while I wrote, adding many pictures from the past, and writing about what I and others believed to be the most special time in America. Slowly bringing us up to the present remaining very casual in tone, and that’s when I realized my writing is a “style” that crossed over various types of social media.

It was still early so I did a name change, and began coloring outside what I perceived as “controlling” written, structural lines.

Meaning . . . . I know absolutely nothing about poetry, my punctuation has been offensively off the charts, as I sit here laughing audibly! All my dots have been misplaced, driving someone very special to cringe . . . . who actually cares about what lies ahead of me, and vice versa.  Commas are missing or in the wrong place, because I’ve read this stuff until my brain was LOCKED, or literally blue in the face.

I’ll write when I’m in dire need of sleep, but am driven to excel, and exceed . . . . against my personal best.

I’ll do whatever it takes . . . . even publicly make mistakes! Original readers are basically reading a rough draft, of late. My most sincere apologies to you! Thank you for staying by my side, I hope you come back to see the changes. You have to go to the live link for that. (

Missing tools of trade, once at my disposal . . . . makes me a bit more inclined to test waters in the new pool of writers around the world on WordPress too.

So while the cat was away . . . . I, the mouse, not only played myself . . . . iKat. I was also holding and guiding the old fashion plow, and it went something like this with Mickey Mouse back in 1929.

I hear the rhyme and in my mind it has a good time, but I guess in ways it could have been perceived as a bit of a mess.

Hope you enjoyed the show! Love that old video. Isn’t it amazing how art begins so simply? Then with a bit of practice, a few smiles and laughs . . . . it grows and grows, to only . . . . God knows!

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

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©IM Infusion Musings