Last year, H.E. got me a camera for Christmas, but it turned out to be one of those things, where you think it’s defective so you return it to get a replacement, only to find out that the replacement works exactly like the first one. Like shit.

The camera gobbled up brand new batteries after only eight shots, auto-focused whenever the hell it pleased (which was whenever the hell you didn’t please), and was lickety-split pulled off the market not too long after because the company whose name graced the body decided to close off that division entirely and sell cameras never more.

So the well-intentioned gift went upstream again to die, and it was months before H.E. got his money back. It didn’t matter. The thought was there, and I loved him for it. We’re not exactly Midas, so thoughts like that count BIG time.

Besides, I didn’t really want a camera. It probably tastes very sour anyway.

But this morning, when I opened up another Christmas gift from H.E., which I wasn’t even supposed to have because he had already gotten me so many early gifts—a warm fluffy robe, an armful of books, and even an Audrey Hepburn calendar—I found myself staring at one of these things, complete with an extra memory card, a card reader, a camera bag, a tiny tripod, and rechargeable batteries.

I cried. Literally. ‘Cause I’m such a sap and H.E. loves me.

After that, I let myself enjoy the camera, and it really is a hundred times better than the one from last year. I’ve been playing with it all day, and it hasn’t even put a dent in the battery power. It even allows me to take better photos! Here are a couple of my first tries, small versions of what I printed out at 8.5″ x 11″ (which look so very clear and sharp!). The bottom shot is dedicated to Minnie, who gave me the wooden duck:

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