Ode to My Camera

My camera is on the fritz. It has been since, oh, Thanksgiving, maybe earlier. But it took me a while to admit that something was wrong because admitting this would mean a) I wouldn't be able to take pictures or B) I would have to get it fixed or by a new one--oy. Basically, when I would take a bunch of pictures and then flip through them, I noticed that one, three, or all 578 of them were out of focus. I thought it was my eyes at first. I mean, I thought my eyes were going bad, focusing issues, astigmatism, or some other weird vision thing. But turns out my eyes are just fine (for now), but my camera, not so much. It also does this funny thing when I shoot in manual mode--I'll get a series of shots that are completely black. Which, from old fashioned photography, I know this means that there is something wrong with the reflective device inside the lens. But in the digi world, I was not privy to this information until I talked to victims of this common digital disease. Holy dollar signs Batman, the processor is going bad! After a smidge of research, it will cost me just as much to have the processor replaced as it would to buy a new camera. Duh. Isn't it obvious?

Anyway, as I wait for some sort of financial shift at Chateau Kasubick, I'll take my chances with the ol' Canon Rebel of yore. The one, that seven years ago, was the Rock Star of digital cameras. The one that brought me to the Dark Side. The one that I take more places than my kids (okay, not really, but wouldn't that be funny?). The one that needs to be replaced very soon or else I'll miss a critical moment in my photohistory of my kids (imagine Phin, the second child, looking back and saying, "Mommy, why are all the pictures of me out of focus?" Tragedy.). So here's to you, my camera, my camrea. Until you really kick the bucket.