POSTED IN | 11:23 PM
When you grow up in Oklahoma you get pretty used to the weather. Duh. But, what I mean is you become accustomed to dramatic and largely unpredictable climatic variances. Especially during the "winter"/spring months. Storm Season, they call it here in Tornado Alley. *ominous oohhing*

But for example: Snow on Monday, hail on Wednesday, gale force gusts on Friday and then perhaps squinting sunshine and t-shirt temps on the Sabbath to round the week off.

Yes, this is what you become accustomed to out here on the plains. And likewise, as is the case with fashions and pop culture, it seems all our country's weather gets a running start on the coasts and gallops inland where it smashes together over the Mid-West expanse in grisly super-cell deadlock. (meteorological data supporting this claim currently unavailable). That's how I always think of it anyway.

So all this to say that while it's hella flat out here on the range, sometimes the weather can be pretty jive. Like today. Gets folks out of their covered wagons and hay barns for a look at the sky. You know what I mean? Dern tootin!

This beauty formed immediately overhead as I passed. Thankfully it was a non-rotating variety. He introduced himself as Nimbostratus (but his friends just call him Bo). A most polite vapor, I'd say. Though somewhat unsubstantive when it came down to it. Anyway, he promised nothing grisly, so I went about my healthfood-store shopping without concern.

Twenty minutes and the gray curtain rolled away, revealing a backstage of sun and straight blue.

Another few minutes saw full happiness restored. Full cloudular retreat. Farewell, erratic weather. See you in a few days, if not a half-hour.

A Happy Time


We gathered for Al's b-day festivities on Friday. A seriously bueno time on many fronts (even though I was untimely robbed of first place in the go-carting. read: Fatman debauchery). But yeah, still fun alls in alls. It's not about the winning, ya'll. Seriously. Don't be so competitive...

...but expect more photos of the event forthcoming. stay tuned for some race-way action shots...

Oh, and there was some cake too. Did you know little boys like sweets?

Oh, The Places We Go

POSTED IN | 12:18 AM

The new pre-school photog gig has me hither and yon sometimes. This week I strayed from the usual OKC jobs and photographed at schools farther away. One of the places of interest was El Reno, Oklahoma, USA.

I know what you're thinking. Smalltown Okie-homa. What is there to offer?

But if you'll read with me what our friend Wik I. Pedia has to say about the sprawling metropolis, I think you might change your tune.

Just some highlights:

-El Reno is a historic community with many historic buildings, and is the county seat of Canadian County, and the only city in Oklahoma to have an old fashioned streetcar trolley in operation in the downtown area.

-El Reno is also home to a Federal Prison.

-El Reno is a Main Street community. The Oklahoma Main Street Program is a downtown revitalization program and the El Reno Program won the Great American Main Street Award in 2006.

(some climate tid bits)

-On April 24, 2006, a rare anti-cyclonic tornado which made national news hit El Reno's municipal airport, causing damage to the hangars and small airplanes.

-Overnight on August 19, 2007, Tropical Storm Erin dumped over 10 inches (250 mm) of rain on El Reno and the surrounding area. This caused extensive flooding.

and the clincher...

-The town is noted for its annual Fried Onion Burger Day Festival, which is always the 1st Saturday in May. Burger Day is where you can witness the cooking of the world’s largest fried onion hamburger , weighing over 850 pounds. In 2008, El Reno will celebrate the 20th Annual Fried Onion Burger Day.


So. Just a momento from my week. Anybody up for a fieldtrip in May? Fried red meat and onions sounds pretty boss.

And stay tuned for the next few weeks, featuring:

Durant, Bartlesville, Lawton and Blackwell.

Oh, the places we go.

The Mystery of the Backyard Shed

POSTED IN | 11:41 PM

It's like a thrilling Hardy Boys mystery, really. No lie. And so it's perplexed me for some months now.

Every few days I notice the shed doors slightly ajar in the back yard. And yet, no one from my house goes out there. Hmm.

And so I close the doors about once per week, only to find them slightly ajar once again not long after.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Week. After week. After week.

So. Who's the culprit? The wind? Vagabonding hobos? Sheeyah. In this town?

Or perhaps it's the very spirit of adventure, taking refuge in our meager lawn shanty on the fortnight (he likes to share his venturesome currency hither and yon). If it is Old Courage calling our plot a home, I think life would be pretty boring. As Adventure only needs a few inch door gap to make his passings. Nothing venturous in that. But I suppose that's his business.

Thus. The Mystery of the Backyard Shed continues. Don't make me call Frank and Joe.

Simple Scenery

POSTED IN | 11:54 PM

I just like this one. Nice sky, nice tree. Characteristic shed.
This scene is a few blocks from my house.
Incidentally, the expanse is also the Sooner Croquet Club's (I think that's what they call themselves) home pitch. I have one victory to my name with said Club. What a night that was in the summer of '06. Simply brilliant! Sadly, I fell from the peloton greatness shortly thereafter. And I never made a career comeback. Seems I tend to have a lot of once-and-done, over-the-top victory experiences in life. Then I slump into consistent, unavoidable mediocrity shortly thereafter...

Risky Business

POSTED IN | 10:18 PM

The older bro Fatman in action. He hires out too, folks. You can get a hold of him through me...

In the heat of the moment:

Aaron: Joshy, why didn't you poop in the potty?

Joshy: *silent stares while writhing aimlessly on the floor*
So you may recall our adventures of yesterweek with Sir Nicholas and his Chrome Brewer. And bless my percolator, what an epic in the annals of blogdom lore that was! But, just when you thought the bar was raised to such lofty, caffeinated heights, Sir Nicholas pulled out all the stops.

That's right. Hold on to your french presses. Sir Nich is packing some new hardware that's made a dark, rich and full bodied splash into his life, and those of his compadres. So, we join Sir Nicholas in his most recent adventure. A literal sword-from-stone experience. Thus, the tale of Sir Nich and the Vetrano Brewer unfolds...

Behold, the chromy chromyness, high-tech piping and shimmering aura of latent power — The Vetrano Brewer. I would give you some specs but I don't know them. True coffee lovers (you know yourselves), you'll know them already.

Golden river of goodness. "I'll have to dial in the machine" Sir Nich idly proclaims, without concern or care. Remarkable brewing prowess, certainly.

Latte pour.

And here we introduce heroines Rachel (L) and Sally, friends of old, united by spring break. Rach and Sal were classmates and friends in Kazakhstan where both spent some significant years growing up. Many interesting stories of life in C. Asia betwixt these two this week. Rach now calls the Golden State home where she is an aspiring blogger, among other things.

Madam Rachel's affinity for the jo. She is a fast friend at coffee time.

And then the peace pipe happened upon Madam Schupack The Virtuous. Things started out neutral enough. But...

...she perhaps dislikes Sir Nich's fare wethinks...

...yes, tis official. tastebud and pleasure center are in formal disagreement.

"Oh GOSH. It's SO bitter...it's terrible" saith Madam Schupack. We translated this statement to be on the negative side of the spectrum...

...and then laughter as a dismissive coping mechanism...

And so Madam Rachel's beverage returned to her as quickly as it left. And Madam Schupack eased into an unsettling aftertaste, thus dispelling the notion that all royalty have a palate for the finer things. Alas, the journey of beveragic sanctification is long, and some are but fresh upon it.

And Madam Somaria was there too, the supportive and yet caffeinatedly uninterested wife of Sir Nicholas. Hail, Madam Somaria. May your mild disinterest temper Sir Nich and thus save the kingdom from coffee-induced bankruptcy.

The End.

Leading by Example

POSTED IN | 11:35 AM

"Setting an example is not the main means of influencing another, it is the only means."
-Albert Einstein

...now we just have to wait a while to see how nephew No. 2 handles himself on a two-wheeler. i can only hope he'll relish the rich heritage of cycledom as i do. the seeds have been planted. the objects are in motion. we'll see if they can stay that way...

Norman panoramic from atop Owen Stadium (Go Big Red).

Campus Corner.

Just kicking it in the stadium...at night...

Escape route shadows. (children, don't try this at home. read: one handed riding on sharp inclines)

More shadows. I thought these looked pretty cool. Remarkable photo subject, too. That always helps...

Train crossing. It's coming! (kids, don't try this one either)

Close and loud. Burlington Northern Santa Fe's finest.

Heading north toward OKC (and other largely dull states, most likely).

Hangin' with Mr. Ling

The advent of the all-male get-together is quite legendary when you think about it. It's all guys. And we assemble for sundry activities and occasions. Brilliant! And we all know the usual go-to activities: playing sports, watching sports, drinking, dragging Main for hotties, acting stupid in public forums, video game nights on Valentine's Day (been there)...and the colorful list continues with various permutations based on personalities.

But what is at the core of every man's heart is the desire to summit the pinnacle of male bonding greatness — The guy cooking date. That is, two amig-O-s cooking up something palatable, old school, with nary a long-hair around. And, as fortune has it, both Mr. Ling and I are solid enough in our culinity that we dominated this milestone of maledom without a crumb of doubt. Thus, we cooked. And behold, it was good.

Mr. Ling examining the bounty, pre-baking. "This American food is SO easy to cook," said Mr. Ling nonchalantly. I shook off the possible racial implications (for fear of disrupting guy-night) and then had to agree with him. Tis true, those Chinese vittles are no easy feat to concoct.

And the menu would've made any self-respecting male ensemble proud: meat and potatoes. Quite literally. Oh, some onions too. And a couple unsuspecting Heineken met their demise as well, to our enjoyment.


Here I am, proving my actual presence at the gala.

And a dash of random to taste.

I shoulda gotten pics of the finished eats, but you know. We ate them.

All in all an epic odyssey, no? All hail. Guy's Night.

The End.

Why I love So Cal


A blissful January afternoon in LA's Echo Park. A throwback to my jaunt out West a few months ago. Amigo and now-LA resident, Dave, finally emailed me the photo. (that's why you always carry your OWN camera with you) But whoa, there's a little slice of celestial bliss in that park, I reckon. And I couldn't get enough of it with my red Chucks and t-shirt in the sunny, mid-70s grandeur. It's like, OKAY, I understand why you people live out there now. I GET IT. Now please, just let me return to my attempts at Mid-Western climatic/geographic contentment, okay?

The Doctor is In

So I'm in the application process to work for a mission organization. It's kind of a lengthy process, as it usually is. And that's okay. But, when one needs a medical physical for one's mission org application, one takes the path of least resistance. One calls in the family medical professionals, of course. And thus, I'll introduce you to Sister Dinah.

You've seen her here before, certainly, but here she is in her native professional habitat. She's a Physician's Assistant and helps overhaul peoples' spines. The X-Ray at left is a spinal X-Ray, for you laypersons. I know. I've got a little bit of expertise under my belt. Don't feel stupid.

Credentials. The C means certified, as in Dinah took (and passed) an evil medical test of the likes small school children can only nightmare about.

The ol' Head Circumference measurement. I've always had quite the grandiose melon. Now I know that The Noggin is 23 1/4" round (or sort of round). They say extra cranial space helps alleviate brain claustrophobia disease that's affecting more and more folks these days. Too many, really. A darn shame.

For good measure, Dinah turned the tape on herself (after criticizing The Noggin's mass). She weighs in at a mere 21". Pshaw. Come back and see me when you got game, sis.

In-office light reading. I don't think Doctors/Medical peeps really ever read these references. But dang! Don't they look smart all displayed in plain view?

It was my first time in my sis's clinic. Kind of sad in that she's worked there for several years now. It was good to see where she works. The light indicates a patient waiting in room one. Hurry up, sis!

Dinah and doctor/boss-man/fiance Alex. Dinah is kinda like the second-string QB to Al. AND, in other news, these two will be getting married in October! Booyah. We at the Stuart Ranch are joyful. I have some pics of Dinah's ring/rock, but they are MIA currently. Perhaps you'll see it some day.


NOTE: the management wishes to apologize for the interruption in regularly scheduled blogging here at Just Pixels. several factors contributed to this, including gainful employment, a lack of interesting photo subjects, and the bloggers strike of '08 (a dark time, for sure). we assure you programming will commence as has been our web log custom. thank you for your understanding and continued support. blog on, friends. blog on.

Breakfast Club

POSTED IN | 11:14 PM
Well, after the long and overly prolonged tension of the previous prophetic post (PPP), here lieth something further that will cause, perhaps, a murmur. Somethings delicious and somethings suspicious. Somethings prime and ostentatiously sublime.
Some of these photos have no particular purpose, if only to bring a subtle lip crinkle to the surface. So, what say ye? Shall you have a look? YES says I, for not to gaze and you'd be a proper crook.

Prime Minister of Biscuitry Affairs, presiding. Notice her deftness and poise!
Things started here and soon our table was bountiful with breakfasty delights.

The chocolate gravy face, obviously. Multiple Arkansas-based familial generations stand behind the recipe you see incarnate in the pan. History never tickled my fancy so keenly.

The Spread. Caloric splendour blossoming from every corner!

This is the way we pour the chocolate gravy...pour the chocolate gravy...pour the chocolate gravy...

And THEN. Some spectacular things happened in the backyard. Words can't capture what feats of threadular greatness and thespianic swagger splashed down for those platinum, sunlit moments. So, I'll just leave you with the photo documentation instead.