a photography neophyte

This weekend I snapped some photos of our friends, Mary, Bryant, and their adorable baby with great hair, just for kicks.

I've just barely started being deliberate about taking pictures. My cousin Keaton, a fine arts major and exceptional photographer, gave me a photography tutorial when I was in Alaska.  She brought handouts, gave me insider tips, and conveyed simple explanations. I felt like she opened the door for me to enjoy photography as a hobby.  I'm still learning basics, and my skills are rudimentary, but I'm eager to improve.

Fire Station Day

I'm always amazed that  "volunteer firefighters" exist. In fact, I'm amazed that there are volunteer- to- put- my- life- on- the- line ANYthings.  It seems to defy the human instinct of self preservation to sign up for something that could kill you.  It is even more shocking that good people are willing to do this without pay.  Today I feel thankful for people  more brave than myself.

The thought of fall makes me nauseous.

Well, maybe  it's not true nausea, just a phantom churning in my gut.  You see, I have been pregnant 3 of the previous 7 fall seasons . By pregnant I mean 1st trimester, hating life and wish I could banish all food, pregnant.  I’m not expectant again but I've spent so many Autumn days on the verge of puking that I don't quite know how to separate the benign fall memories from the taxing ones.  The scent of leaves on the ground, the smell of cinnamon, even the golden glow of the fall sun all seem to remind me of vomit.  It’s really too bad that a perfectly good season had to be ruined. 

Luckily, Brady is a stalwart defender of fall.  He relishes and inhales fall. He wakes up every fall day cheering, basking in the fall-ness.   He makes note of the way he loves the sound of leaves under his feet, the way he enjoys being forced to wear light jackets in the morning. He loves college football, pumpkin and apple desserts, and with his exclamations of fall joy- he works on me, the scrooge of fall.

If I were a lover of fall, the East coast would be my perfect place. Here fall saunters in slowly, takes her time to get situated, and lingers just the right amount of time.  It’s not like Alaska where fall always prematurely kills summer.  No, here fall is just perfect. It could be great, if (maybe when) it gets a second chance.

Every once in a while a book finds me with perfect timing.  This book is a collection of letters written by 2 women, as they try to figure out faith and how it correlates with life.  Many of their thoughts echoed my own and by the end of the book, the authors seem like friends of mine. 

Every once in a while a book finds me with perfect timing.  This book is a collection of letters written by 2 women, as they try to figure out faith and how it correlates with life.  Many of their thoughts echoed my own and by the end of the book, the authors seem like friends of mine. 

So. . .  I wrote them a letter thanking them for their book. Here it is:

Dear Jess and Amy-

 Your book is simply perfect, a treasure. I stumbled upon it in my library's 'new book' section and it immediately resonated with me. Each time I would go to return it to the library I felt sad, so I'd renew it. Until all my renewals ran out and I decided it was worth it to pay the .25 a day late fee just to have it on my bookshelf. Needless to say, I just couldn’t part with the book and eventually I bought it.

 I discovered your book at an opportune time for me- a period where my life and my faith, is growing and expanding, when I was thinking about weighty things like death, the character of God, and how faith plays out in our lives.

Your book was like a conversation I wanted to have. I appreciated the way you allowed yourself to express things that made you feel vulnerable- frank doubts, daunting philosophical questions, and personal observations- this made your book especially refreshing.

I’m not sure if I should thank fate, God, or just good luck for finding your book. Either way, I’m thankful for your insights and inspiration!

Danielle Firth

Washington D.C.

old pics but good pics

It feels like a million hazy, lazy, sunny, days have passed since the baby came. It is hard to hold on to those memories of when the baby was new, new.  My mother in law Leisa took these fabulous photos one evening at sunset and in my postpartum-ness, they never got displayed.  I love them because they capture some of sensational novelty and excitement that comes with a newborn. Now the baby is much sturdier, trippled in weight, and no longer has her fuzzy hair, but the shear enjoyment of our baby hasn't worn off. 

 

Elsie still says " I LOVE this baby, can we keep her? Pleeeeease?" or "We didn't have any baby before and now we do! I like having a baby!" or "Now Liam needs us to have another brother" (to which she always gets a big, fat, smiley, "No.") We are still very aware that the baby, like all of our children, is a gift.

Easy on the eyes

People applaud me for my "cute kids" and I happily ingest the compliment.  Of course I'm glad that the genetic lottery worked in my favor. Yet lately Brady and I have been worried that maybe we need to start reinforcing other positive traits, especially with Elsie. It's not that all this talk about "cute"ness has gotten to her head- she's nearly oblivious. It's just we're worried that in her princess-y, dolled-up, 3 year- old world, asthetic beauty is praised too loudly.

One of Elsie's favorite birthday toys was a pink princess cash register, complete with debit cards and a scanner.  When buttons are pressed it shouts out useless mantras like "Fashion!" "Beauty!" The toy drives me crazy. It seems like its trying to hypnotize my sweet 3 year old into being a shallow, over-consumer.  If I could, I would switch out all the register sounds for less sexy buzz words like "Ambition!" "Diligence!" "Perseverance!"

When I tell Elsie she is "cute"  I hope that she knows it means more than just pretty. It is my way of acknowledging that she is gregarious, witty, happy, nice, smart, observant, entertaining, and yes, easy on the eyes.