Last week I got to go to Washington, D.C. for a day. There were four of us that went — from South Carolina, where I’m with the DiMarias. Geno DiMaria and I have been working together on a video contract for the U.S. Court System Dept. of Public Affairs. Along those lines, Washington wanted to meet with Geno. Mr. DiMaria also had some business to attend to there for his job, so on Wednesday, December 7, we all took a road trip to our nation’s capitol.

John DiMaria — the youngest of the DiMaria brothers — came along. He and I hit the Washington streets Thursday morning on a grand adventure to see as much as we could in a single day.

The first place I wanted to go was Arlington National Cemetery. Our hotel was practically on Capitol Hill, which was super nice, but we still had four miles to walk from there to Arlington. The goal was to be at the 9:00 changing of the guard ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknowns, but when we were just walking up to the visitor’s center at 8:57, we knew we wouldn’t make it. So we went here instead:

It’s been about 14 years, I think, since I’ve been to Washington. The first time I went, we didn’t make it across the Potomac to either Arlington or the U.S. Marine Corps Iwo Jima Memorial. The Iwo Memorial was quite a bit larger than I had expected it to be — I was thinking statues that were life-size. They were larger than life. Just the day before visiting it, I had finished reading Flags of Our Fathers, the story of the flag raising (did you know that it was just a replacement flag being raised?), written by the son of one of the flag raisers.

John and I had to hightail it back if we were to make the 10:00 changing of the guard back in Arlington National Cemetery. So we left, and trekked our way through the most beautiful cemetery I’ve ever seen. There’s an inevitable sense of awe that comes when you’re standing in that cemetery, completely surrounded by headstones of men who fought for your freedom… As far as you can look in any direction. Freedom is costly.

We did make it to the changing of the guard ceremony. It was amazing. Silence reigns during the ceremony, out of respect and honor for the unknown fallen soldiers buried there. The only sounds are the snapping of military dress shoes into position, the few commands issued from the officer conducting the ceremony, taps being played. Very moving.

From Arlington, John and I crossed the Potomac again, and visited the Korean War Veterans Memorial:

The Korean War has become an area of interest for me lately, as I’m researching it for a story idea.

We visited Mr. Lincoln next:

From there, it was on to the Vietnam War Veterans Memorial, the White House (no, we didn’t go in), the Smithsonian Institute Building (“The Castle”), and the Smithsonian Museum of American History.

This is John while we rested our feet outside the museum after going through three exhibits:

John and I had a blast together, despite the fact that we spent most of our time walking. “We’re almost there, John,” almost became a joke, I said it so many times. Seriously, we got to see nine different sites in D.C. within the space of nine hours. When we got home on Friday I mapped our route on Google. We walked at least 16 miles during the day.

This was part of our route (click to enlarge):

From waypoint “K” (Museum of American History), we walked back to the Capitol and around it. We came up to the capitol just as golden hour was beginning. We paused for a few minutes in several places to take photos.

I was expecting to shoot a ton of photos in Washington. Walking took up most of the shooting time, I guess — ended up with 48 digital photos and 19 film exposures. Besides so much walking accounting for so few pictures, I think being in the shooting-film mindset — you only make a photograph if it’s really worth making — accounts for the rest of it. I do wish I had shot more photos in Arlington, though.

We arrived back home in South Carolina Friday night (December 9). It was a short but great trip — I’m so glad I got to go along!

The new Stembridge Mill site is now live. Check it out!

New domain (cstembridge.com), same site basically. Here’s the explanation I posted over on StembridgeMill.com:

In an effort to focus the Stembridge Mill website, I’m splitting the personal blog away from freelance stuff. The new personal site is here, and looks exactly like this one… For now. This site’ll look much, much different soon. It’ll showcase some of my work, and won’t have a blog. I like the idea of potential clients being able to come to this website and not have to play hide-and-seek with information about hiring me.

Stay tuned!

So welcome to my blog’s new home. No promises for more frequent blogging. But when it happens, this is where it’ll happen.

A year ago next month, I headed down to the Florida panhandle to help shoot a documentary. It’s the project I mentioned in my review of the Canon 60D last year.

Joe Stapp, the man behind the project, recently launched a Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for the post-production. Here’s what he has to say about his project:

“My project is a documentary entitled ‘Rite of Passage the Film’. What I want to do with this faith based documentary is to demonstrate an example of a tradition that is all but extinct within the American culture. It is one father’s journey to usher in his oldest son’s transition to manhood through a biblical, family centered rite of passage.

A rite of passage is the perfect catalyst to help fathers affirm their sons transition into becoming a man. This has been manifested within the Jewish community through the practice of the Bar Mitzvah, and the Australian Aborigines through their ‘Walkabout’. Unfortunately, within the current American culture our fathers have become too distracted to perform such ceremonies for their sons, the contemporary Christian culture is no different. As a result a vast number of our boys are transitioning into their twenties with an identity crisis and are left wondering what real manhood truly is. Young men often try to define their manhood or manliness among their peers through demonstrations of how tough they are, how many sexual exploits they’ve had, or through other potentially destructive behaviors. This is why it is so imperative that fathers step in and define what true manhood really is. I would surmise that the true definition of manhood is transcendent. Authentic manhood is defined by service, service to a cause greater than one’s own self interests. Service to God, service to one’s family, service to country and community. In the absence of this definition, we as human beings default to our own self-serving desires, and as a result become a detriment to mankind.”

Mr. Stapp started this project on a budget of zero; he’s active-duty Air Force. All of us who have helped on this project thus far have donated our time to it. The film’s post-production progress has been kinda slow in the past few months, mostly because of a fund lacks to bring on dedicated editors for the footage we shot.

Mr. Stapp’s hoping to raise $10,000, which will be used to fund the remainder of the work needing to be done on the project. If he’s successful, Rite of Passage will finally become a reality! But we need your help; there are only 31 more days to go before the campaign ends.

Here’s the cool thing about donating to the project through Kickstarter: it’s completely risk free, because it’s based on pledges. If enough people back the project to reach $10,000 before our deadline, the project gets funded. If less than $10,000 is pledged by our deadline, backers don’t pay anything. Of course, we hope to raise the full amount, but it’s nice knowing that if we fail to reach our goal, no one loses out.

And if you can’t or don’t want to donate, you can still help us by sharing the link with your friends. We can’t do it alone!

It’s hard to believe it’s already been two weeks since this year’s Sforzando String Camp ended. Life’s been busy!

Every year at Sforzando is wonderful, and this year was no exception. I felt like the teaching was particularly helpful this year, especially in the areas of music pedagogy and music standards. Perhaps part of the reason why I felt like I learned a lot is because last year I was running around with a camera in my hand the whole time. It was great seeing all our Sforzando friends again this year, playing and learning about music for God’s glory!

On the topic of the Sforzando documentary — it’s released to the public now! After months of working on it, getting feedback from friends, and making more tweaks, the final cut was exported on May 9, 2011. It’s an hour, five minutes.

One of the unique things about the documentary is that I attempted to use the string camp as a context for an educational experience (opposed to making a long commercial or highlight video about the camp). The film contains some practical information, in my opinion, on a variety of topics: the importance of history and theory to music, what the purpose of music should be for a Christian, a discussion of music standards, some tidbits of fun information about Beethoven’s famed 5th Symphony, why it’s crucial to start children young in playing music, and more. It’s a fun film for anyone who’s ever gone to Sforzando, but other music-loving people would enjoy it as well, I think.

Sforzando is available at Amazon.com and Createspace — as well as at Sforzando String Camp, but that only happens during one never-long-enough week out of the year.

Note: if you buy it from Createspace, enter the code “NY7H7U4N” (without quotes) to get 20% off.

Ever since buying my 60D, in the back of my mind I’ve wondered how shooting an event video would go using dSLRs. It’s not something that people necessarily recommend doing, for various reasons:

• Record limits. Canon dSLRs have 12 minute caps due to clip file size and FAT-32 memory formatting.
• Overheating. Some cameras have issues with this after shooting for long periods of time.
• Sound quality. Or lack thereof, with the onboard audio options…
• Focal length. Regular video cameras have a huge range in focal length… dSLRs? Ever seen a 10-300mm lens? Didn’t think so.

Can covering an event work using dSLRs? Definitely. A couple weekends ago I was hired to shoot the Peoria Bach Festival’s performance of Bach’s Easter Oratorio and Motet III: “Jesus, Priceless Treasure.” It was shot completely on Canon dSLRs.

First off, sound was no issue; it was professionally recorded by someone else. Focal lengths were also not an issue, thanks to the rental of Canon’s EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS lens… It was a three camera shoot (a 7D and two 60Ds), and each camera covered a different focal length.

Record time limits? It never would have worked with only one camera. Having three cameras greatly reduced the chance of a footage gap because of restarting recording or changing a memory card. Plus, when you think about it, recording to and changing a 16GB SD card makes for maybe 20 seconds of lost recording time. That’s as fast or faster than a tape change. The only hitch we ran into was having only two 16GB CF cards for the 7D (definitely not enough for a nearly 2-hour concert); we ended up having the second camera operator’s younger sister nearby the 7D to dump footage as soon as a card filled up.

And we had no problems with overheating, either. To be on the safe side we turned off our cameras during an intermission, but we probably wouldn’t have had any issues had there not been an intermission.

Considering that there were only two days to prepare for the shoot after returning from being in Haiti for a week, it went fantastic. The worst problem we ran into was my lack of finding out where the soloist singers would be standing during the concert… I had a shooting plan all worked out, coordinated with my second operator, and then the soloists walked in. Amid the applause of the audience, I realized in horror that they were arranged exactly opposite from what I had been planning on! I ended up having to lock down my camera, and quietly walk all the way around the auditorium to my other operator to tell her to shoot the exact opposite from what I had previously said.

So does event coverage work in the world of HDSLRs? Absolutely. The thing is, you have to be prepared to work around the dSLR’s limitations, and utilize its strong points.

I’ve been back from Haiti for a couple weeks now, and haven’t forgotten about posting an update about our trip… Life’s just been a bit busy since our return!

A couple weekends ago, I had a concert shoot for the Peoria Bach Festival. We used dSLRs for the project (more on that later), and I was able to rent the Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS for it… And since I had this super-nice lens for the weekend, we made the most of it and finished shooting senior portraits of my little brother. It’s hard to believe that he’s graduating this year!

So, here are a few photos from the portraits we made for his graduation:

About the time this post will be published, I’ll be on a plane landing in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, as part of a fifteen-man mission team.

Here’s part of a prayer letter I sent out a couple weeks ago:

In January 2010, a massive earthquake plunged the Republic of Haiti into chaos, killing up to 316,000 people and making another 1.6 million homeless. By October, a cholera epidemic had also broken out.

Will you please keep our team in your prayers for this? We understand that unless God is in charge and at work, what we can do with our feeble hands isn’t worth much. Please pray for our safety, that hearts will be receptive to God, and that He will do amazing things.

I’ll report back later!

I’ve been shooting some senior portraits of Tyler over the past couple weeks… Practicing for the most part, but making some serious photographs as well. Almost a week ago Tyler and I headed out to a section of our property that’s being prepared to be future pasture, so I could practice shooting a wide portrait with his cello. Here’s what we came away with:

It was the first time I’d ever tried anything like this formally, especially with flash (off-camera, at that), so after shooting this I posted it on Flickr in a group devoted to off-camera flash, asking for critique. The response was incredible—sixteen different people chimed in with extremely helpful advice and criticisms. I learned so much!

Last night we went out and reshot the portrait. Here’s the photograph we made:

Despite having to set the camera on a 2-second timer, push the shutter button, then aim the flash (all while stepping on a tripod leg to keep the tripod from being pulled over by the stretched-to-the-maximum flash sync cord), and having to use my spit to keep Tyler’s hair from blowing around in the wind, it was a lot of fun. I feel like I learned a ton, which is the best thing of all.

There’s one thing I don’t remember, for sure: the first time I met her. From what I’ve heard, that first meeting was probably only a few hours after I was born.

That was over twenty-one years ago. Grandmama talked about how whenever she would tell one of her friends that she was about to become a grandmother, they would say that it was going to be so much fun.

But the first time she saw me after I was born, I was sleeping. After that, I woke up, ate, and went back to sleep. I didn’t make a good first impression as far as the whole fun-and-exciting being a grandmother thing goes.

Then I started growing, becoming more aware of the environments around me. My Dad, Mom, and I lived in the Atlanta area for the first months of my life, so I was close to where Grandmama lived. She used to talk and laugh about watching me after I learned to walk and run.

I really don’t remember much about my early relationship with her. My family moved to North Carolina (where my brother was born, Tyler—who managed to get into a bunch of the pictures here, since I’m behind the camera more than in front), then to Tennessee, then finally back to Georgia when I was four. That’s where my memories of Grandmama really begin.

We lived an apartment in Norcross, near Atlanta, about an hour or so from where she lived in Athens. Since we were so close, we went to visit somewhat often… And that hour drive always felt like half a day to my little mind.

Grandmama lived in one side of an apartment duplex, kind of on the outskirts of Athens. At the time, she worked for the University of Georgia as an office secretary or something… I’m not sure what exactly she did. I went to work with her once—probably not even a half day, looking back at it I’m guessing she just needed to take care of a few things. She tasked me with drawing on the whiteboard with dry-erase markers.
 
 

 
 
We grandkids—five of us altogether, between myself, Tyler, and three cousins—used to take turns spending the weekend with Grandmama. She didn’t have a grandchild every weekend, but from what I remember, I myself probably spent a weekend with her every four or five months.

Grandmama would come pick me up at my house on Friday afternoon, and then we’d make that looong drive to her house. Sometimes on the way, we’d stop at a grocery store and pick out TV dinners for supper. I never ever got those at home (and looking at the ingredients lists now, I know why), so it was a special treat. Sometimes we’d rent a movie to watch while we ate.

The nightly bubble bath was a tradition at Grandmama’s house. She’d fill up the tub with hot water and plenty of bubbles; it was so much fun! There were various water toys to play with, and of course, what’s a bubble bath without a bubble beard or go-tee?

At bedtime, she’d tuck me in, then read to me. Sometimes I’d pick out a book from a basket of children’s books she had for us. But always, she’d read a chapter from the Bible (usually one of the Psalms). We’d pray together, she’d turn out the light, and I’d fall asleep… As soon as I stopped thinking about the googly-eyed monster under the bed. I never did see it, but to this day I’m sure that’s where it lived.

I would usually be up in the morning before Grandmama was—that’s how young energy goes, after all. She always kept at least four or five kinds of cold cereal in her pantry, so I’d get out of bed, go in the kitchen, and arrange all the boxes on the table. That mission accomplished, it was back into my bedroom until she got up, where I’d quietly play with toys from the blue, plastic toy crate from the closet. Every once in a while she would surprise us with a new toy in it.

After breakfast, Grandmama would get her second cup of coffee (she always reheated her coffee in the microwave, even straight out of the coffeepot) and go get dressed, put her makeup on, and do her hair for the day. Tyler and I dubbed her hair “big hair,” because that’s exactly what it was, a big bunch of curls from the rollers she’d wear to bed every night.

I loved the Saturdays I spent with her. Sometimes we’d go to a park, sometimes there would be some special event going on nearby to go to. It was usually the park, though; there were a couple in particular that we loved to go to. One was Bishop Park, which I called “Monster Park,” because one time I was playing with some kids there and pretending I was a monster.

Our most favorite one was Memorial Park, a mostly wooded place with a large pond in the middle. Grandmama always saved old pieces of bread so that we could feed the ducks, turtles, and fish whenever we went. We’d walk around the pond on a trail, throwing bits of bread at a duck or two swimming along nearby, or dropping some down into the water from a bridge. She’d let me play on the playground, and sometimes we’d stroll through a small wildlife zoo that was there.

Sometimes we’d drive down to Hodgeson’s Pharmacy, near the university, to get an ice cream cone. That was a special treat! I remember how it smelled like ice cream cones, how forever long it seemed to wait in line for our turn to order. And I remember how fun it was to sit on the park bench in the store, eating ice cream, sitting next to my Grandmama.

Grandmama’s mother—my Great Granny—lived in a retirement community a couple miles from her own apartment, and Saturday evening was the time we’d go visit her. We’d go out for pizza, or get pizza from Papa John’s (Grandmama’s favorite), then sit and visit and watch the baseball game on TV. Grandmama didn’t like driving after dark, so before it was too late we’d go back to her home where we did the nightly routine.

On Sundays, Grandmama took me to her church. I started playing violin when I was almost eight, so once I was able to play some songs from memory, she’d have me bring my violin along. I’d play one or two songs for the ladies in her Sunday School class. I can still vividly remember getting up and playing for them—usually a quiet, calm hymn, followed by a foot-stomping fiddle tune called “Bile Them Cabbages Down,” which Grandmama absolutely loved for me to play. I’m sure I wasn’t much help in getting the ladies into a worshipful attitude…
 
 

 
 
Grandmama loved beauty, especially the beauty of flowers. You could give her a bunch of random flowers, and she could arrange them into something the looked pretty. Inspired by her, I once made an arrangement myself…Which definitely didn’t come even close to what she could do. Perhaps it was because I used dandelions…

Her flower arrangements graced various parts of her church, bringing bright cheerfulness to various lobbies and hallways. She had a special touch with them, for sure. After retiring from her job at the University of Georgia, she worked part-time at a florist arranging silk flowers.

She had an eye for decorating, too. I still remember what her apartment looked like, and smelled like. After walking in through the entryway and front door, I’d be standing in her living room. On the left was a bookcase with metal-grate doors, the handles of which were rubber-banded together, partly to keep them closed, and partly to keep curious hands from opening and closing them—they were the noisiest bookcase doors I’ve ever heard. The top of the bookcase was always decorated for the season. During Christmas it’s where where her nativity set would sit.

Straight ahead was the kitchen, the place where many a wonderful Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner was shared by four generations of family (from Granny down to the cousins), where we laughed and talked over lasagna or ham or turkey—and the famous chocolate eclair.

To the right was the living room. There was a couch between its north-facing windows, a couple of recliners, lamp tables, and a cabinet with a TV on top. Opposite the couch was a fireplace. Grandmama loved having fires during the fall, and I loved it when she had them during our visits. I can still remember the rug on the floor, too, where Tyler and I would race toy cars along the lines while my Mama and Grandmama sat and talked.
 
 
 
In late 2001, my family moved to Illinois. That was hard for Grandmama—we were now about 13 hours away from her, which meant that visits came only two or three times a year.

She came to visit a year or two after we moved. We took her around to show her things, went to the zoo, and among other things, stopped at a huge pumpkin field so she could take a picture of it. That was the only time she came to visit; it was too far for her to drive, and besides this, she needed to be available to take care of Granny as she got older and could do less on her own.

To that end she moved to the retirement community where my Granny lived. She was glad to be out of her apartment duplex. That part of town was becoming more unsafe; her apartment had been broken into at least once.

Grandmama brought a freshness and life to Lanier Gardens. She was one of the younger people living there, I think, so her energy and friendliness quickly won her the love of everyone she met there. They appointed her to be their floor leader for several years, which she enjoyed as it gave her the opportunity to plan special events and help with decorating the floor.

I still loved visiting her there at her new apartment, though it wasn’t often, and the weekend visits had stopped after our move. Usually it was my Mom and brother and I visiting her. Sometimes we’d take a walk together, once in a while Tyler and I would play horseshoes while Grandmama and Mom watched and talked. And always the morning we’d leave, I’d run around her apartment writing and hiding notes for her to find after we were gone—in a coffee can, under a phone, behind a door—places where she’d find them later and be pleasantly surprised.
 
 
 
I’m not sure when, but sometime she began delivering Meals-on-Wheels once a week. Her assigned delivery place was an apartment building near downtown Athens, a housing project I think. I loved getting to go help her deliver the meals, and she, the ever-proud grandmother, absolutely loved getting to introduce her grandchildren to the people she served.

She wasn’t just serving them physically; along with the meals, she was delivering Christ’s love. Sometimes this was through a tract or note, always through her attitude. She cared about those people.

Grandmama was like that. She was outgoing—but didn’t think she was—and always concerned about other people. She loved Christ, and that’s what made the difference.

I know she had a lot of unanswered questions about life; mainly about why there was so much suffering. Looking back, I almost wonder if her questions were rhetorical. She went through a lot, so much more than I ever saw growing up, and much more than I’ll ever know about. But you’d never know that, because in spite of it she had the joy of the Lord in her life. She loved Him, and was committed to following Him.

She was a giver and a server, and an expert at those things. It was almost impossible for her to walk past an ungainly hodgepodge of flowers in a vase without stopping to transform them into something beautiful. She loved bringing beauty into other people’s lives, and involving her family in doing the same—evidenced by her taking us to deliver Meals-on-Wheels, or having my brother and I plant flowers in Granny’s little bitty patio yard.

My Grandmama was a beautiful person, and I love her dearly. She wasn’t perfect by any means. But Christ dwelt in her, and it was obvious. Many grandchildren love their grandparents…But most grandchildren don’t have the privilege of having a grandmother like Grandmama.
 
 
 
I was the first and the last of her grandchildren to be with her. At the beginning of spring in 2010, I had been working with some friends near Charleston, South Carolina. God moved in my heart, telling me it was time to go home…And instead of taking the direct route, I decided to go through Athens to spend a day or two with my Grandmama.

It was the first time I had ever visited her completely by myself like that. I got there on a Monday afternoon, spent the evening with her and Granny. I can’t exactly remember what we did most of the next day—we talked and perhaps went walking at Memorial Park—but I do remember that she lined up for me to play music during the chapel service that afternoon, and I’m glad for that.

In the evening Grandmama and I went out to get hot dogs and frosted oranges from The Varsity. For the uninitiated, The Varsity is a fast food restaurant with three locations total, and famous for how greasy it is. It was fun to eat there every once in a (long) while, though! We took the food back to her apartment and ate with Granny.

The next morning, I said my goodbye to her and left. It was always hard leaving her after a visit. That feeling of missing her would be there even before I’d give her the final hug before going out the door. We were close, she loved us, and we loved her.

And so, I left. She hadn’t even bothered in getting ready for the day; it was early, and she still had her robe on and rollers in her hair. I wouldn’t have ever guessed that that would be the last time I’d say goodbye to her here on earth, the last time I’d hug and kiss her.
 
 

 
 
Two-and-a-half weeks after my visit, on May 8, 2010, she got to go meet her Savior. She got to have all her questions about life answered; she got to rejoice in the presence of her Creator. “To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.”

No more arthritis. No more wondering about the rich-versus-poor conundrum. No more questions about suffering. No more! She’s with the One Who knows all now; her imperfect human vision has been opened into perfect spiritual sight now.

And because of Christ, I can look forward to that as well.

My Grandmama was a beautiful woman. I wanted to be able to introduce my future wife and children to her someday; this little memoir will have to suffice when that time comes. I want future generations to be able to take a glimpse into her life. I want to remember her, always.

I love her so much, and I can say “love” in the present tense because I know that she is more alive now than she ever was when she lived in this sin-cursed world.
 
 
 
I remember Grandmama.
 
 
 

• Chad Stembridge is a Christian young man, freelance videographer, photographer, composer, and designer, in the Central Illinois (Peoria) area.
• 
• Search for:

• Recent News:

  • 7 Days in Haiti
  • Rainbow on the Road
  • Pictures of Spring
  • Jesu, Meine Freude
  • Two Rolls of Fuji Superia 200, & Photos from SAICFF
  • First Trim, & Other Random news
  • Exploring a Cave
  • Sforzando Teaser
  • D.C. + Portra 160
  • Qu’ils mangent de la brioche

• Friends, Family, & Filmmakers

  • Anth
  • Artsy Bros
  • Block One Studios
  • Dominic
  • Emillie
  • GreenPeas Productions
  • Hannah
  • Kendra
  • Kristen
  • Peachtree Prairie
  • Phelanx
  • Planterhouse
  • ReelCast Productions
  • Something Sage
  • Stacey
  • Stumbling Sage
  • Tyler

• Other Blogs I Follow

  • Canon Rumors
  • Chiot's Run
  • Delicious Days
  • Eat Outside the Bag
  • Immer Wachsen
  • Kinfolk
  • Roost

• Subscribe for free!

  Enter your email address:

  Delivered by FeedBurner

• Currently reading:

  Shelfari: Book reviews on your book blog

• Planning to read:

  Shelfari: Book reviews on your book blog

• Archives:

  Select Month April 2012  (3) March 2012  (2) February 2012  (2) January 2012  (1) December 2011  (3) November 2011  (1) October 2011  (2) August 2011  (1) June 2011  (2) May 2011  (3) April 2011  (3) February 2011  (4) January 2011  (6) December 2010  (1) November 2010  (3) October 2010  (3) September 2010  (6) August 2010  (3) July 2010  (1) June 2010  (2) May 2010  (2) March 2010  (4) February 2010  (3) January 2010  (5) December 2009  (3) November 2009  (3) October 2009  (3) September 2009  (9) August 2009  (13) July 2009  (5) June 2009  (5) May 2009  (5) April 2009  (10) March 2009  (6) February 2009  (7) January 2009  (12) December 2008  (12) November 2008  (16) October 2008  (8) September 2008  (6) August 2008  (22) July 2008  (12) June 2008  (12) May 2008  (7) April 2008  (10) March 2008  (12) February 2008  (29) January 2008  (10) December 2007  (9) November 2007  (1) October 2007  (3) September 2007  (13) August 2007  (11) July 2007  (13) June 2007  (11) May 2007  (5) April 2007  (9)

Content © 2007 - 2010, Chad Stembridge
RSS: Posts / Comments
Subscribe via Email