Biographical Data

Capitalist

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

I am a photographer/writer/entrepreneur. Check. My wife works in advertising. Check. My daughter is a budding capitalist. Check. All is well at Top Dog HQ, aka the Rosinsky household.

I pick Helen up from school. Each day she lugs her heavy bag of books and schoolwork into the back seat of my plebian crossover vehicle. We discuss a range of topics. Simultaneously, she draws, sifts through items stowed away in her school bag, snacks, or stares out the window. The back seat is mostly her territory.

In the car, I keep a coarse wool blanket handy. I spread it across the back seat so that when I take the dog along with me her paws and claws will not compromise the upholstery. Helen's stuff often ends up inside or on top of the blanket. Now and again, I poke around the back seat to pick up the detritus left behind by either Helen or Jazz (said dog). A few days ago, I find one number two pencil, an old comics section, and a wad of paper atop the blanket bunched up on the floor. The wad catches my eye.

Untypically, I pick it up, unwad it, and view its contents. I say "untypically" because I usually scoop up more junk than I can carry without losing stuff on the way to the garbage pail. I find myself staring at a handbill crafted by my child.

The headline, "Helen's Fur & Feathers Pet Care Business," takes me sort of by surprise. I recollect a passing conversation we had about ways for her to earn extra money. She mentioned walking dogs. I advised her not to walk big dogs while envisioning a Great Dane pulling her on its leash down a hill into the next county. I explained that pound for pound, dogs are three times stronger than an average person is.

Her menu of services is extensive. In her words:

I will walk any dog under 30 pounds for $2—and an additional dollar for every ten pounds.
Exotics (birds and reptiles, I assume) can spend the night (at our house I presume) while you're out of town—$2 for everything under a pound and $5 For everything over a pound. Round trip.
I Can go to your home to watch cats or dogs while you're away. $5 round trip.
Also babysits for $3 an hour per kid.
Does odd jobs for a negotiable price.

Close up views of Helen's Advert

I rather like the dog picture. I think she should license it to greeting card companies, tee-shirt manufacturers, pet food stores, etc. A good capitalist employs other peoples' money and labor to turn a profit. Hmm, maybe I need to rethink my business plan. In the meantime, I will slip one or two abridged Adam Smith books into her school bag.

Lumbar Spine

Thursday, December 21, 2011

Lumbar: of or pertaining to the loin or loins. Spine: backbone. Backache = headache. Perhaps the preceding string of words is cryptic. Let me explain; I have a backache. I have had it since July. Thinking about my backache gives me a headache.

Yesterday, two days prior to my 53rd birthday, I went to a radiology lab to have an MRI. I filled out the long form requiring me to check "yes" or "no" alongside each item on a long list of metal sundries that my body might harbor: a pace maker, staples, pins, screws, eyehooks, copper pipes, springs, pinions, metal wires, a Kennedy half-dollar, etc. I checked off no, no, no, no, no… The last question read, "Are you claustrophobic?" I checked off "no." However, confinement in small spaces is not appealing to me.

The tech, a female in her mid-thirties, led me to the MRI machine. She got me situated onto the platform that slides into the cylinder. She asked, "What kind of music do you want to listen to?" I said, "Classical." She shot back a puzzled expression. "We only have radio." I opted to wear the headphones without radio to block out the sound. Magnetic resonance imaging is a noisy process.

I spent 25 minutes inside the cylinder. Within a minute, I wanted to scratch the itch I felt on my left arm. Then I had another itch somewhere else. Then I had a compulsion to clear my throat. I had to fart. All sorts of macro and micro bodily urges stirred up my existence. I managed to quiet down my mind and body and place my head into another space. I thought about the lake at the nearby park that I like to visit—very relaxing. That did the trick.

The MRI machine soon finished scanning my lumbar spine. I got up, dressed, then got into my car and headed off to the park.

My Lumbar Spine

The Park

Once I got home from the park, I went into my studio to photograph the skeletal remains of a lizard that I had found a couple of days ago inside the skimmer basket of our pool.

Lizard Cranium

After taking a picture of the cranium, I photographed the skeleton in a sort of numismatic style—obverse and then reverse. I composited the images side-by-side in the manner that someone selling a coin on eBay would.

Heads or Tails?

I eventually lost interest in the coin metaphor and began thinking about the MRI procedure that I had experienced. That list of metal objects on the form occupied my thoughts. "What if I had had something metal inside of me and did not realize it? Would that object have torn through me, breaking bone(s) and tearing skin?"