Is this a little brat or what? I would have expected my little girl to have a knack for the photos, but my little boy? (Who jumped up on the chair unprompted during lighting tests.) I don’t know…he sure seems to be fascinated with the makeup table and mommy’s feathers. Just sayin’…

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Okay, I know I have another blog for my band work, but to not mention it on this one would be leaving out the very thing I love most and am most known for. Now, lest you think I'm some young, tattooed hipster, I'm a chubby 42 year old woman. I look so not rock and roll. Nor do I dress like a teenager — I've already told people if I ever become one of those women who try to dress and act half her age, to shoot me. Please.

So imagine how odd I look at these shows. And how odd I often feel. Or used to…I''ve gotten pretty comfortable with being the old fart in the crowd.

So, anyway, part of what I do involves getting in the pit. I get my ass kicked. A lot.

And one thing I've learned out in Arizona, is those kids from the Rez are crazy in the pit. For reals. So I knew when I went up to Window Rock, NM with my boys The Koffin Kats, it was going to be rough. An audience entirely of Rez kids, on their own turf (at Day's Customs, an auto body shop.)

This is what the boys had to work with — a flatbed trailer for a "stage."

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I love behind the scenes shots and catching candids of guys offstage. Especially the Kats. They're great guys and have three very different — and QUITE interesting — personalities.

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Food run (Tommy's hair before he fixed.)

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Tommy's hair after he fixed it.

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One of the most important things in rock and roll photography is making friends with fans, so they at least try not to knock you down. I knew these girls were going to be live ones, as they started stirring up a wrecking pit even with the first bands, and were taunting the crowd into getting crazy. And I figured me being Anglo wasn't going to exactly endear me to them. So I knew I had to make a peace offering, and when I got this shot, showed it to them.

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Instant bonding.

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For the record, that IS concrete they are crashing into on the ground. Crazy kids.

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I still got my ass kicked, but at least they didn't hate the white girl in the front. And even tried to get me to join in with them for a bit. I would have never survived without a little diplomacy.

Aspiring rock photographers take heed…be nice to the fans.

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I’m trying to brush up on my Photoshop skills and add new techniques. One of the skills I have been wanting to refine is my vintage, distressed photo effects. These are a few of my first efforts.

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Along with the dive motels, I love me some dive cafes and restaurants. This one has a big open concrete floor in the bar area. I guarantee if you go there on a weekend, there is some serious hell raising going on. What else can you do in these blink-and-you-miss-it towns in the middle of nowhere?

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Classic road food…mmm…

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I'm kind of a strange girl. The prospect of seedy "historic" motels on Route 66 actually appeals to me. Imagine my delight at finding a really divey motel in Flagstaff, Arizona, complete with Indian family management and the smell of Indian food in the check in lobby. And real keys, not those damn plastic cards I loathe.

I'm the kind of weirdo that actually thinks this is cool.

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