OK, so I’ll be taking a hiatus from photography until my camera lens comes back from Canon, where I sent it off for repair today.
After five months of taking photos with my borrowed camera, some of which were actually not too terrible, I got an error message a few weeks ago, something about the camera being unable to communicate with the lens. I turned the camera on and off and it was fine.
Last week, I got the message several times while taking pictures of the wide variety of lilies in the back yard. After turning the camera on and off, I still was able to shoot.
It never fails. I took the camera with me to Monroe, WI, on Sunday, when I went with my other dad for a little day trip. The public art on the Monroe square is whimsical and I wanted very much to photograph everything. (My favorite was the pig with a cow painted on his side.) Naturally, the camera wouldn’t work at all. Couldn’t take a single picture. I did manage to get a few shots with my phone camera, but nothing I’d want to write home about. (You can see them in yesterday’s blog post.)
Of course, my first thought is always, “Uh oh. I’m in trouble. I broke it,” because, well, quite frankly, I do have a rather a solid record of stuff breaking. It’s not even that I break things, but a lotta stuff just seems to get broken while in my possession. I’m like my older son that way. Things used to break themselves regularly at our house.
But today, when I took the lens to the camera store, the nice man behind the counter tried to reassure me. “Would it help if I told you it’s not your fault? You didn’t break it.” Yippee! I didn’t break it. Oh, boy! It’s not my fault. I guess I should be immensely relieved to know that, except that it changes nothing. I still have to fork over two bills for repairs and shipping. Worse, I won’t be taking any pictures until baby comes home to mama. Too bad, so sad.