It's the Little Things OR 221/365

What was lost has once again been found. I could kiss this little black box.

At roughly two inches long, this little electronic has been a huge asset to my photography--both in and outside of my 365 project. It is the remote control for my camera. It allows me to both focus and shoot from up to fifteen feet away. It has an optional 2-second delay, meaning that I can aim it at the camera and still have enough time to drop my hand before the shutter fires. It is responsible for the great self-shots here, here, here, here, and here, JUST to name a few.

It has been a saving grace when even the slightest camera shake is detrimental--allowing me to take photos without having to touch the camera at all. Like here, here, and here.

Needless to say, when it went missing earlier this week, I was annoyed, frustrated, and disappointed all at the same time. The look on my face as I expressed my initial concern was the tipping point between "seriously..." and "seriously?!"

I had been using it all afternoon last Saturday to take photos of old-fashioned cars at the Reynold's Alberta Museum in Wetaskiwin. In between photos, I was consistently putting it into the pocket of my hoodie for safe-keeping. That evening, I stopped to see my kidlets at their grandparents' place where they were staying for the weekend. It was a satisfying Saturday all around.

When I went to take my blog pic the next day, I noticed the remote wasn't around, but didn't think much of it. Probably still in my hoodie pocket. But I didn't really need it for the photo, so I didn't check. The next day, I did want it for my photo, so I checked the pockets of my hoodie. Not there. Hmm... Checked the pocket of the jeans I'd been wearing. Not there, either. Hmmmmmm... Well, I probably tucked it in a "safe place" as I was leaving the museum--so safe I can't remember where (you know you've done it, too). The remote would have been nice, but still not entirely necessary for the photo at hand, so I called off the search for that evening.

The following day, I was rocking a super-cute outfit, and wanted to capture it on film (on pixel?). I tried to take the shot a few times without a remote--substituting in brooms to serve as the focal point while I was pressing the buttons at the camera. But it just. wasn't. working. So, after I took my hand-held photo of frustration instead, I resumed the search. Every pocket of everything I'd worn that day, and all the bags I'd carried. I even emptied the laundry basket in case it had fallen out of the pocket into the greater realm of crumpled clothing. Nothing. All signs indicated that the remote probably fell out on the floor or parking lot of the museum. Great.

Unless........

Could it have fallen out at the grandparents' house? Maybe? As I set down my coat and bags in the front entry? ...Well, worth calling grandma first before I called Wetaskiwin.

Sure enough, it had been found at the house some time after I'd gone. During the conversation, grandma informed me that they'd found it in the living room.

The living room? How would it have gotten over there?

And then I remembered.

I may have put my relatively big hoodie on my relatively tiny nephew and tied the arms around him like a straight jacket. And then tickled him silly on the floor as he tried to escape.

Apparently, remotes can fall out of pockets that way. Who knew?