Refreshed, Rejuvenated, Redesigned


After try­ing on more Word­Press themes than I care to admit, I decid­ed to set­tle with the Typo­min­i­ma theme. Grant­ed that I had to add a bunch of fea­tures and mod­i­fied a bunch of things to it to fit my need, but I liked the bold typog­ra­phy and the lay­out so much, I didn’t mind hav­ing to do some extra work. In fact, I quite enjoyed the extra work as it helped me learn the inner work­ing of Word­Press. So much so that I think I’m ready to tack­le my next project, which is to cre­ate a Word­Press theme from scratch.

Here’s a list of mod­i­fi­ca­tions and addi­tions I did to the theme that I could remem­ber:

  1. Moved the search bar and sub­scrip­tion link from the top of the page to above the foot­er, just because I thought they looked out of place up there.
  2. Changed the markup of the blog title from div to H1 for bet­ter SEO.
  3. Changed the web font replace­ment ser­vice from Cufon (Typo Slab Serif) to Google Web Fonts (Vidalo­ka), most­ly because I wasn’t sure of the search engine-friend­li­ness of Cufon.
  4. Changed the colour scheme. I’ve always been a fan of “black and white and red all over.”
  5. Made thread­ed com­ment work with the theme. Kind of.
  6. Added “Edit” link to posts and com­ments.
  7. Added “Reply” link to com­ments.
  8. Added next and pre­vi­ous post nav­i­ga­tion links to every post.

Um, what else? I’m sure there are more. I just can’t remem­ber. Or maybe it just feels like there should be more because it took me two days worth of tin­ker­ing before I’m close to being hap­py with it.

One thing I would still like to do is add a com­ment link to the bot­tom of every post on the main page, which I already know how to do, but I don’t want it to show on main page posts with a “Read More” link. I don’t know if that sen­tence makes any sense, but if it does to you, and you know where I can find the script, I’d appre­ci­ate it if you could let me know. Also any feed­back as to read­abil­i­ty and brows­er com­pat­i­bil­i­ty would be much appre­ci­at­ed.

On a sort of relat­ed note, the importer script I used to migrate the posts from Mov­able Type to Word­Press didn’t trans­late the Mark­down markups on the orig­i­nal posts (I had Mark­down on by default on Mov­able Type) on import so some of the posts are still look­ing pret­ty ugly, but I’m grad­u­al­ly ren­der­ing the markups, one post at a time. Hope­ful­ly they’ll all be look­ing pret­ty in, say, 3 years from now. Heh.

What We’ve Been Up To Lately

Down the Hog Line

I’ve been every­where, man!”

Well, sort of. After our trip to New­found­land (which was fan­tas­tic, by the way), we decid­ed to take up geo­caching because we nerds need­ed a nerdy rea­son to go out­side and enjoy the great out­door. Geo­caching sounds like a nerdy enough rea­son, even if it some­times makes us do real­ly stu­pid things, like check­ing out all the plaque on every sin­gle park bench down by the riv­er for clues. But at least it gets us to use our legs and walk!

Geo­caching also, more often than not, brings good pho­to oppor­tu­ni­ties. Many geo­cachers are thought­ful enough to hide their caches in scenic areas and some hid­den gems. I’ve seen some beau­ti­ful old church­es and old ceme­ter­ies I wouldn’t have known exist­ed oth­er­wise. I also love dri­ving through beau­ti­ful Ontario farm­land and check­ing out the ran­dom cows and hors­es and the occa­sion­al don­keys. It’s not real­ly a way to save on gas, but eh, every­thing has its cost. And I get to take some pret­ty pic­tures.

This past week­end, we got to hide our first geo­cache! You see, I’ve been obsessed with sudoku puz­zles late­ly and one night I had a dream about sudoku and geo­caching. So we decid­ed to com­bine sudoku and geo­caching and made our first hide a puz­zle cache. The puz­zles are like the eas­i­est sudoku puz­zles in the world but hey, it was our first cache and we want­ed peo­ple to go find it! We might make the puz­zles a lit­tle hard­er for the next one.

Um, what else? Oh, I start­ed sell­ing expired film and some of my cam­eras on Etsy two weeks ago, and I’ve got three sales so far! With­out any mar­ket­ing! Maybe I just got lucky. I need to list more items but it’s been rainy and cloudy late­ly and I need good nat­ur­al light for my prod­uct shots. Not a big fan of flash/artificial light here. My Etsy shop is called Many Cam­eras.

I already got a domain called before I start­ed the shop. The orig­i­nal plan was to install an online shop front there, but then I got lazy. Not want­i­ng it to go to waste, two days ago I decid­ed to start a new pho­to­blog there where I post my favourite pho­tos that I shot on film only with many dif­fer­ent cam­eras. If you’re on Tum­blr, feel free to fol­low me. Even if you’re not on Tum­blr, you can still sub­scribe to the RSS feed. And here goes the link to Many Cam­eras, the pho­to­blog.

And that’s all what we’ve been up to late­ly. Yes, very excit­ing indeed!

Exciting Times Ahead!

The Annual Dandelion Shot

I packed up four cam­eras and half a dozen rolls of film before we went up to the cot­tage last week­end and guess how many rolls I shot? One. Or I should say two-third of a roll because I didn’t even fin­ish shoot­ing it. I was plan­ning on tak­ing a lot of pic­tures but that was before I real­ized how many bugs were fly­ing around the cot­tage. If they weren’t bit­ing me, they were hov­er­ing over my head, just being annoy­ing in gen­er­al, which drove me nuts. So I most­ly just spent the long week­end inside the cot­tage play­ing hours of Plants vs Zom­bies on a Nin­ten­do DS Lite that Troy got me from a garage sale in the mid­dle of nowhere for $25 ear­li­er this spring. I know, very excit­ing indeed. Though I did bake a real­ly awe­some banana pound cake one day. Well, I thought the cake was too sweet but Troy said it was just per­fect and even though I know he was biased because he loves me and all, I’ve decid­ed to believe him. Hence my call­ing the cake awe­some.

Tomor­row is the 6th anniver­sary of the day Troy and I got mar­ried. Time flies! He still loves me and I still love him so life is good! We bought a net­book today though we won’t be pick­ing it up until tomor­row and I like to think of it as an anniver­sary present to our­selves. :) Appar­ent­ly 6th wed­ding anniver­sary is called the Iron and Can­dy anniver­sary. Well, I’m sure there’s some iron in the net­book and it looks like can­dy, at least to me, because I’m a nerd so that’s appro­pri­ate. -Ish. So tomor­row we’ll be pick­ing up our net­book and go for a round of thrift­ing as usu­al. Not sure if we’re going to have an anniver­sary din­ner. I don’t real­ly care either way. Troy’s par­ents are tak­ing us out for an anniver­sary late lunch/early din­ner on Sun­day any­way. We’ll see!

Our trip to New­found­land is com­ing up very, very soon and I’m get­ting, very, very excit­ed! It’s one of the rea­sons we bought the net­book: we need the stor­age for the many pic­tures and videos I’m plan­ning to take and some­thing to access the Web to feed our inter­net addic­tion when­ev­er there’s WiFi dur­ing the trip (like­ly won’t be much). And I may or may not have decid­ed which cam­eras to bring. It’s a prob­lem you have when you own 200 cam­eras. More or less. Prob­a­bly more more than less. I’m going to have to sell some of them and some of my film stash too, and we still have yet to have a yard sale, but that belongs to anoth­er post.

Before It’s Too Late

Orchid and Lily

I had this thought this past Mother’s Day, of how every­one who still have a moth­er should make a video of his/her moth­er at her hap­pi­est, talk­ing and laugh­ing, telling you she loves you. I wish I’d had a video cam­era way back when my moth­er was healthy, happy(ish) and alive so I could make a video of her because now I’d do any­thing to hear her voice again, to hear her laugh­ter, her singing, her call­ing me “Tomblok” (her pet name for me). But alas, my moth­er passed away just before the dig­i­tal rev­o­lu­tion.

Of course you can do the same to any of your loved ones. Even pets. Dig­i­tal cam­eras and many cell­phones come with a video fea­ture these days. Your video cam­era is lack­ing audio fea­ture? Bor­row the one with audio from one of your friends! There is no excuse. This may sound like an utter­ly mor­bid idea now but trust me, some­day you’ll be glad you did.

Pinhole Day

Cherry Blossoms

Pin­hole Day is only two days away! Well, tech­ni­cal­ly, it’s three days away, but since the last Sun­day of April this year is also East­er Sun­day, they will accept pin­hole pho­tos tak­en between April 23 and May 1. You don’t get three days a week to come up with a pin­hole pho­to to sub­mit to every year, I can tell you that much! That’s why I urge you to par­tic­i­pate. It’s fun, and you’ll be amazed with the results if it works out. Empha­sis on ‘if it works out’ because some­times it doesn’t, but you know, there’s always next year.

Last week I built myself a pin­hole cam­era out of a small­ish card­board box for the body and stuck to it is a roll film back from a vin­tage press cam­era we won in a live auc­tion in Paris (Ontario, not France) years ago. The pin­hole is made from my favourite mate­r­i­al: pie tin (the thin, dis­pos­able kind; easy to punc­ture). I meant to take it out for a test roll last week­end, but alas, the weath­er just wouldn’t coop­er­ate. I’ll just have to guessti­mate the expo­sure time this week­end.

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Failing Memories

Messy Kitchen

Don’t you hate it when you have some mem­o­ries from a long, long time ago come back to you just when you are about to fall asleep and you promise your­self that you’re going to blog about it the next day but when the next day comes you can’t remem­ber any­thing about it any­more? I had three of those mem­o­ries last night. Three! I wish I could remem­ber what they are because those mem­o­ries made me feel warm and fuzzy. Oh well. Maybe they’ll come back to me again some oth­er time. I keep mean­ing to put a note­book and a pen on the night table to help me remem­ber things like this, but I keep for­get­ting. I’m hav­ing trou­ble remem­ber­ing to do some­thing that’s meant to help me remem­ber! Ah, the irony of get­ting old.