Yesterday as I walked through the ER waiting room I stopped in my tracks at the magazine rack -- because sitting there prominently among the donated periodicals was a magazine called "CRAP".

Well, I THOUGHT it said "Crap". Obviously my dyslexic brain was at it again. Either that, or I use that word way-too-much. (Hey, my family reads this blog, so I can't use the s- or f- words...)

In fact, the magazine was titled "CARP".

Carp?

Carp. "The magazine for Canada’s Association for the 50 Plus."

Um, someone needs to inform them that DOESN'T spell CARP.

I think it should be CRAP. As in "Holy, crap! I'm 50!!"


Because "Carp Magazine" is this.
















Or this.

















Or this.














Or this.

















And THIS apparently is Total Crap, er Carp:

Sure. I take photographs of family gatherings, for scrapbooking and a whole crapload for this here blog. I even have been called upon to take gross bloody pictures at work for the doctors (but I think that is just because no one else there is insane enough to bring their digital camera to work).

But I've never really considered myself a "photographer" per se.

Don't you have to take classes to acquire an "Official Photographer Extrodinaire" certificate or something to be called that?

Certainly I am nowhere in the same league as many talented bloggers who can produce amazing works of art with their cameras on a daily basis.

But every once in awhile, I DO stumble back-asswards into a fluke shot that surprises ME most of all.

Today was just such "in awhile".

My subject? Manitoba's favorite insect. Favorite because it EATS Manitoba's least-favorite-but-most-numerous insect; the vile and disease-infested mosquito.

Yup. The subject du-jour was a dragonfly. A HUGE dragonfly.

A beautiful black-tipped dragonfly that fluttered about me while I worked in the backyard. It perched on a bush, then flew around. Then perched again.

Over and over. Never straying far from me.

Of course as luck would have it, my camera was sitting inside the house.

Crap.

After watching this fella flit about my head for ten minutes, I decided to take a chance and retrieve my little Sony 4.1 Cybershot from my purse.

And when I got back outside, he was still there. Flying back and forth like a minature helicopter, then landing on a branch to rest.

He let me point my camera mere inches away, while I snapped off 37 shots.

Yes. 37.

I couldn't wait to get inside to see if I even got him in the frame of at least one shot.

Yup.

I sure did.