Stolen Shots

The thing about me is, I hate car rides. I hate airplane rides. I essentially hate sitting in one place with absolutely no control over anything.  If I drive, I'm quite a bit better. But riding? I'm the one saying, "Are we there YET?" every 10 minutes.

So yesterday, on the way home, with C-man watching the iPod and Beerman listening to golf on the radio, I decided to amuse myself.  It all started with us playing a game of "I'm thinking of an animal..." and Beerman missing the exit.  So, we took a back road for a couple miles to get back on track. But that's when I spotted round hay bales in the sunlight and shouted, "STOP! I need a picture!"  So, of course, he did.  And then turned around so I could get a better angle.

Since I couldn't make him stop that often (he had a GPS time to beat, after all!) I started my personal game of, "What kind of picture could I get as we're whizzing by at 45 mph?"

Or 75 mph?

And when I ran out of decent things to take pictures of, I just turned the camera on myself.

All just further proof that I really need to clean that bird doo off my mirror.  Or that my man-hands are kind of scary.  Or probably that I should just get my own iPod to watch.