Carlotta | Pastor's Girl Ponderings Portraits

and the world's like a science
and i'm like a secret
lingering still - she&him

I'm calling her bluff in the poker game of personal online portrayal.  If you've had the breath-easy bliss of reading the blog of Carlotta, you'd know a number of facts, and you may even come to quite a few educated guesses, about her.
Thoughtful, deep, intoverted, esoteric, wide-eyed and poetic.  We come to her blog and find calm, everyday beauty.  Well-constructed sentences without many exclamation points or smiley faces.  The colors are neutral, the patterns are non-existent and the fonts are classic.  No hot pink and polka-dotted for this girl.  People ask if she ever has a bad day?! Because life appears so perfect!  Her mind seems as interesting and full of treats as her attic-like bedroom we love to see pictures of.  We probably imagine her waking up, with lips that smell like hyacinths and armpits that smell like bookstores, and starting the day by just staring out the window for a few minutes, blinking slowly and breathing silently.  With a handmade knit throw dripping off her bed, she probably lifts an original German leather notebook off her thrifted nightstand, flows down the stairs with perfect posture and creates prayers of sweet happiness in calligraphy, while eating curds and whey.


Everyone.

She has us fooled.

Bravo, Carlotta, bravo!

When I drove up to the Tiev's household, the first thing I saw was the neighbors house.  Four little mangy-headed, bare-footed, beautiful small women, fumbling with a sign and screeching "GIRL SCOUT COOKIES! GIRL SCOUT COOKIES FOR SALE!"  I recognized a couple of their faces.  They waved and watched me park. "Is she buying some? I think she is.  Maybe." was written all over their smooth faces.  (I did buy some, by the way.)  Carlotta was standing across the street and ran to meet me.  She kind of tripped and we oddly hugged.  Her voice was much kid-d-ier than I thought it would be.


Yes, she is just as stunning in person as she is online.  So.  Don't make yourself feel better about that.  She is just extraordinary.  Our day together began with a tour of the house, meeting her family, and seeing the new chickens.  Then she showed me all over Tulsa.  Her church.  Her favorite cafe.  A hotel Britney Spears and Lady GaGa stayed at.  Underground tunnels.  Gelatto.  The "hipster" area.

She got lost (nearly) constantly.  She left me in an elevator.  She took me through some parking garages (by mistake).  She dripped gelatto in her hair and washed her hands with my ice (I offered, for the record.)   She talked on and on about different projects she started on and never finished.  She got her skirt stuck in her barstool at lunch and chided herself playfully "WHY am I so awkward?!"  She talked and chatted and joked and zoned-out and goofed and skipped and slouched.  And I finally said "You are SO different than you seem online!"  She laughed, that beautiful, real, knowing laugh of hers.  She looked just like MiMi on the side of the road behind a picnic table full of primary colored cookie boxes.

"Yeah, I know.  I really do have deep thoughts!  And I'm very careful about what I put online.  I don't know... I don't want to look back someday and be like 'Ew, gross!' or, like, have a potential boss find some crazy things about me on the internet.  Yeah.  I don't know.  My blog is me.  Like, a part of me.  I just have to sit down and write and think about it - I'm not like that all the time."

Hear me out: she is educated, sickeningly discerning, very lovely - in word, action and thought, gentle, mysterious and quite well-rounded.

However.  She is a ITSSOFLUFFYIAMGONNADIE goofball.  She has colorful stories to tell, and a cheesy sense of humor, and is sometimes "slow" to get sarcasm, and does a great money-walk... and tries to steal money (um. yeah.  Ask her about it ;).  She seems far older than her age.  In fact, all day I felt like she was older than me.  But she somehow pulls off "seeming older" with this weird little girl crazy.  Like, I would say "She seems like a 24 year old with a 10 year old's personality."  As opposed to "She is a very mature 17 year old, who seems more like she's going on 30."

She carries herself with grace and gladness and giddy.  She isn't misrepresenting herself on her blog - that girl and that mind is very much a part of her.  The whole Anthro-come-to-life thing is there.  It's just not all.  And I for one found myself more amused than "philosophically inspired."  She is so much fun.  She's hilarious!  She's a ham!  She's truly great.  




So, please, by all means.  Keep reading and loving her blog.  Keep being amazed at her ideas, taste, language and online journal.  And know that behind those posts, sitting behind a screen, somewhere in Tulsa, is a kooky, bilingual, chaos-and-calm, whippersnapper, doll of a girl, who is more herself than most adults you'd ever meet.


You're a keeper, Carlotta.  Don't get used to hearing it: you're rare.  And brilliantly memorable.  Especially when it comes to driving directions ;)

Harris Family | Portrait Session

But the lesson is vague in the lightening,
Shows a dear with her mind on the moor.
And now something with the sun is just different
Since they shook the earth in 1904.
Tallest Man on Earth - 1904

Before ice-skating lessons in 1998, my mom stopped into the Christian bookstore across from the rink.  I had on leggings and a emerald green sweatshirt and skates-with-guards.  I was looking forward to being 10-years-old ("just ten more months until I'm ten!"), and my family had recently relocated from the intensity of the Washington DC area to the chill-back-bro area of San Diego, California.  And I mostly just wanted to go ice-skating.  Tara Lipinski already practiced 12 hours a day... this bookstore stop was cutting into my 1.5 hours!  "Kristen, do you know who this is?"  Mom showed me the back of a black and white book.  There was an "old," dark-haired 21 year old in the picture.  I had no idea who he was.  "This is Joshua Harris, he wrote this book and he works at our old church in Maryland now.  And he's only 21."  I had to admit, it was pretty cool that anyone from my old church - whether I knew who he was or not - was on the back of a book at a store all the way in Escondido.  Mom and I enjoyed our little "celebrity siting" moment, and that was that.


Now, nearly 15 years later, I've seen and heard and talked with the Back Of The Book Guy a lot.  By the time we moved back to Maryland, he was married.  There was a baby.  And another book.  And a baby.  And another book.  And a baby.  And another book.  For over a decade Josh always seemed "the same" to me.  Nice, cheerful guy.  Full of energy and short-guy jokes.  Eager, spirited and good in front of people.  His children were adorable, his wife was always precious and pretty.




But in the last two or three years, I feel like I've gotten to watch change become different.  Not because I personally know him or his family very well, but even watching from "the outside" there is a change.  His sensational mother suddenly died a few summers ago.  The next summer he began the process of leading a church through it's greatest trial yet.  I've watched Josh weep.  I've watched him collapse in front of thousands of people.  I've watched him apologize.  I've watched him make decisions and take the heat afterwards.  I've watched him honor his mother, through pursed lips and quivery prayers.  There's been a change.  A depth.  Josh is still friendly and eager, but, like Noah & The Whale say "Some people wear their history like a map on their face."





And I like it.  The hour I spent with Josh, off-stage, out of office, away from ministry and "work", just home, with his personality-full children and clever, perceptive wife was just oh-so-real.  They were running late.  Outfits were in question.  The cat was missing.  Children chased each other.  Dishes were in the sink. Josh wasn't "back of the book" Josh.  He was dad.  He was normal.  He didn't seem 21, he seemed upper-30's.  And real, and a little tired (a lot tired?) and happy.

There is hurt and experience and delight and unknown that the man I saw in the fall knew, that the man I saw in 1998 didn't.  Shannon is the same way.  Ever lovely and kind, she looks like she has stories to tell.  She has richness in her voice and sweetness in her eyes, but somehow she is tough as nails.  Like a Cape Cod cottage that has withstood the winter winds and summer floods, she lives on with more charm than before.  Emma, who is now older than I was when I "discovered" her father, is gentle, peaceful and calm.  She speaks in complete sentences, asks beautiful questions and seems not just thoughtful and attentive, but extremely constant for a child her age.  JQ is all "boy."  Not just "all sports boy" (he is that!) but all "boy."  He is filled with all kinds of facts and quips and ideas.  He is adventurous, theatrical, competitive and talkative.  He seems like the guy who would cry and mourn for a few days if his team lost the Super Bowl, or would rejoice and celebrate for months (years?) if they won.  He's all in.  In everything.  Mary Kate, the little firecracker, has a magnetic draw and hilarious demeanor.  She does not care what anyone thinks of her.  She is bold and free and incredible.  She has mischief written all over her face (I think it's in her mouth and dimples), but is absolutely impossible not to instantly "click" with.





(The cat made it! Woo-hoo! Go Wasabi!)

The time I spent with Josh + his family blessed and uplifted me more than probably any message I've heard him speak, or paragraph of his I've read.  Watching them really belly-laugh, tease and poke fun, figure out who got to hold the cat, interact and just be was special and important.   I love this family more after getting to know them better, in person, in life.

And there's a lesson in that, isn't there?  No matter what someone is like, or how different or similar they are to you, when you get to know someone, your heart can't help but care for them more.  

Harris' - you come to mind frequently throughout my days and weeks.  Keep laughing and loving and chasing.  You're a complex and interesting crew of people, and it's really wonderful that God gave you all each other.  You're great together.  I can't wait to watch your stories unfold - and hopefully I'll only be able to know you better and better.  You have my respect + my laughs (especially that Mary Kate!)

Hoboken Coffee Roasters | Guthrie Local Shop

"what city, what town
so many roads 
mothered in stone 
surrounded by bones 
it feels so alone 

the last waltz
don't mean the last dance is over."

the band - the last waltz

Priscilla Ahn music video style, Trey and Mallory had a dream.  A coffee shop, opened and run with heart and soul.  Made to meet, know and love people.  Napkin sketching and imagining.  Cue the harmonica.  Penny pinching and saving.  Waiting patiently.  Honing in on the details: a coffee shop where they not only ground and brewed the coffee, but even roasted it themselves.  Where every cup, every sip, every flavor was the reward of many hours of effort, not a simple online shipment order.  The coffee house would be for family, for strangers, for their kids, for us, for we, for love.  They dreamed.







And it's funny.  Amidst an ex-Oklahoma-state capitol-turned-Small-Town-USA, where there are too many antique shops, a "Cowboy Cafe" and Stables Diner, and a town centerpiece (the highschool football field), where grand-dads and toddlers wear Ariat's and Wranglers, where the choirs sing every Sunday in all four side-by-side churches, where 25 buildings are empty and for sale, where the parking outside looks like a Ford F350 commercial, where the entire, conservative, drawled town takes off work early to watch the homecoming parade at 2:00 pm, where not a single chain store is allowed to open (the city council wouldn't allow it), where the older ladies gossip at the hair salon, where the culture is a country-people who "grew up workin' on the land," where they "fell in love with a small town woman and... a few years later... seven people livin' all together in a house built with his own hands," where tornado shelter signs are plaqued to old brick, where cobblestone says a weary "hello." under the worn-down parts of asphalt, where all the fine folks, bless their heart, are meat-and-patate-a's folks, where mom's yell down the street "HEY! All ya'lls better getch yur-selves up that hee-ill! School's startin'! And you otta be busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kickin' contest!" - in this town - a young family who seems to fit the Portland, Greenwich Village, Kinfolk world, did the beautiful and opened up their dream.  And a little lady in her skinny jeans, head wrap and moccasins pours over a cup (made with love), while her forever-boy mans the french press in his hoodie - very skater-meets-hipster like.  And it's Guthrie, Oklahoma.  Not a trendy new chain in Chevy Chase, or a typical mountainside place in Vancouver.  In the land of fried chicken bucket bets, hunting, Carhart jackets, leather boots and Stetson cowboy hats this couple, and their new baby girl named Harvest, have successfully stayed true to their personal vision and personality and the entire town is simply smitten with them.   An Anthropologie in the middle of a rodeo.  This hasn't been done.  It's brave.  And it's working.  Watch out - this sleepy sweet town is on the rise, and because of people like Trey + Mallory, it's going to be a different place in five years.  Better.  Home-ier.  Lovelier.



"Oh, we wrote our blue-prints and design ideas on notebook paper!" They drive a very simple car, Trey actually bikes almost everywhere, they've saved and saved and saved so they can do it "right" and not get themselves into the crazy world of debt, they waited.  "And prayer, Kristen," Mallory told me with a gentle head-shake and tight-lips - if she could let herself, she probably could have cried - "God has taken this and made it so much more than we ever thought it could be.  You can do the numbers and the math, and then God just blows it all away.  He's blessed us.  Prayer.  We spent so much time in prayer.  He's been so good."

And now their people-oriented, town-focused, made-with-love, share-their-hearts coffee house is real.  It's hard.  And you can see it. And it's not an idea anymore.  Hoboken Coffee Roasters is open.




The unroasted beans below and the eye-catching roaster above //





Roasted beans!  About to be ground...



























































The stories in this small building could delight your soul for hours.  The $20 Chandeliers Story.  The Sweatshirt In The Guthrie Sports Museum Window Story.  The Crib in the Corner Story. The Home Made (nearly) Everything Story.  The Blue Print Story.  But, really, the story Mr. Woods and his Woodsy Wife and round Harvest Woods want you to know about is the one where Love came to earth, and did good and beautiful (and eternal) things, so we can spend our life (forever) enjoying good and beautiful things, and we don't have to fear the evil and ugly.  They want you to know the story about how Love changes everything - your soul and your cup of coffee.

||| follow hoboken coffee on twitter | instagram | facebook |||

and props to their designer, emma dime, for the remarkable logo!

Enjoy People | Three Best Friends | Child Lifestyle Photography

“this is what youth must figure out:
girls, love, and living.
the having, the not having,
the spending and giving,
and the meloncholy time of not knowing."
e.b. white

By now you all surely must know Audrey, Edith Grace and Little Behr.  Their mama's are best friends. The girls are sisters.  Behr thinks Edith's legs are chicken wings, and Audrey's hair is spag-het-TI! (in an exaggerated Italian accent.)  Audrey tells stories about how Behr got into the "lotion," even though she herself has white, dried up yogurt-crust on her arms and cheeks.  These three live a mere eighth of a mile from each other.  I don't think they are going to get married to each other.  I think they're just going to be the best of friends.  

Behr already has a patience for these girls that he doesn't have with anyone else.  Audrey can decorate him.  Edith can wail beside him.  Audrey can accidentally land her jump on him.  Edith can be in his way when he rolls over.  He just sits there like a sleepy lump.  Edith, on the other hand, almost gets worn out by these two.  She tunes them out, I think.  She's the voice of reason.  Audrey is the instigator and the schemer.  She reminds me of this line from E.B. White's Stuart Little: "He was quite warm from the exertion of being Chairman of the World. It had taken more running and leaping and sliding than he had imagined.”  Ah, yes, Audrey.  The little Chairman.  It's not easing being in charge of the world!

I love watching their little friendships begin.  Please don't hate each other too much when pimples, driver's ed, BO and ugly nail polish are your worlds.  Just be awkward best friends, okay guys?

"TiTi! Watch! Audrey jumpin'!"

Behr's "concerned" face is one of my favorites.

Audrey: "Baaaaby Behr kickin'! You kickin' Behr?"

Audrey: Deese for you Behr! Pink glasses!

Behr: [concerned face]

Edith: Oh my gosh. Calm down. And those are green glasses.

Behr: Okay, f'real Audrey, I'm not wearing your girlie shades. No way.

Audrey: Hahahaha! Behr bein' silly, TiTi!

Behr: No, I'm being concerned!

Audrey: It's pretty Behr! Pretty pink glasses!

Behr: "No" is no, and that's final.  It's very serious!

Behr: Oh dear. Auuuuuudrey. This is not good.

Edith: You two.

Behr: But... I... don't... want... them!

Audrey: Pretty pink glasses! For sun'n'errands! Errands Behr? At stores? And Target?

Behr: Hey TiTi, would you get a load of this? Wanna help a boy out?

Behr: No? Alright.  I'll take matters into my own hands. HALT!

Behr: I will dissolve your womanly wear with my super saliva!

Behr: Oh. This is just delicious. Mmmm. Yes.

Edith: Zzzzzz

One of our favorite Behr-isms is the way he rounds his legs and "clasps" his feet together.  He'll wiggle them together and then flail! and kick! and celebrate! followed by his feet "holding hands."  It's so precious.

Pretty girl.

This picture is how I will remember Behr and Audrey as little friends.

The mister has been teething for almost two months and his teef haven't popped up yet.  Apparently the leopard slap bracelet felt incredible on his sore gums.

(^ that's not an upset-with-Audrey face... that's just his "Hmmm, this tasted different than I was expecting" face.  Probably like what we do for lemon slices, or oversalted foods :)

Her saggy top-knot.  His ARMS.  Her yellow romper.  His ARMS.

Fascinating what a few weeks can do, huh?

I love these next pictures of "tummy time."  (Audrey feels left out of the baby activities sometimes?)

(Um. Behr's arms!)

If the next three images had a title they would be: Big Sister Whispers While Cleaning Up CrayonsBefore NapTime.  (It could use some work.)

"Night night, Eedif."

Enjoy People | Copious Photoshoot Sneak Peek | San Francisco

copious: abundant in supply or quantity; plentiful, ample, profuse

Here is a little sneak-peek of the Copious Campaign Ad photoshoot to whet your appetite.  Dedicated to laughter, color and new friends.

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 5

time, love. time, love.

time, love.

it's only a change of time.

josh ritter - change of time   

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4---The dryer hadn't buzzed yet.  It was time to leave.  I hadn't checked in online.  I hadn't printed my boarding pass.  I hadn't finished blogging like I planned.  My clothes were still damp.  Oh well, into the carry-on they go!  I stuffed, zipped and hobble-hobble-hobbled out the door and down to my car.  There probably won't be any traffic, it's the middle of the day.  I have no idea what is in my suitcase.  Do I have my license? Oh gosh. I paused in the parking lot of my own apartment complex - where I lived on my own.  The concept was still very new to me.  I hadn't even paid my third full month of rent yet.  Life was very happy and my house still felt a little bit like a hotel or vacation home.  I invited friends (ranging in age from one year-olds to my mom's friends in their 50's!) over constantly.  My heart was so full when people enjoyed my house.  Mornings were fun, but after that being alone was stinky.  I craved seeing familiar faces by dinnertime.  

With my damp, unplanned luggage in tow, I zipped over to the airport in Baltimore.  I'd already gone to visit my parents in Florida a few weeks prior.  Now it was time to go see that funny couple I loved so much.  We had waved good-bye to them in August and it was already nearly November.  I was slightly proud of myself for being the only friend who actually made plans to visit them.  Though not much of a hugger, I wanted to give Becca a hug.  And hear some Andree humor.  And to see ALL there is to see in Oklahoma (apparently I didn't need more than 72 hours to visit everything important in the state.)  The two best friends were not Oklahoma boasters.  I had heard from them that the memorial downtown, the farmers market and a cool place called Pops on Route 66 were the only fun things in all of the area.  Oh! And Big Truck Taco.  Whoooa. Sounds like SO much fun. Woooo-eee. Rah. Rah. Can. Not. Wait.  Ha.

This would be a good trip, I decided, to focus on people.  Not everywhere has to be beautiful or inspiring.  Sometimes it's just about who you are with and nothing more.  You see, this trip was not only going to include seeing a much-missed couple but also doing a family shoot for a project I was working on.  A project about real marriage and proven love.  I'm perfectly addicted to shooting weddings, and waving good-bye to lovers on day one of their marriage.  But who photographs day 132 when they get into their first sort-of big fight? And who photographs the triumph in her eyes on day 216 when he says the meal she made tastes better than his mothers version? And who photographs day 1,824 when the couple still isn't pregnant, after wanting a baby so badly?  Or perhaps day 1,824 is filled with tears from mama and tots, who all need daddy to come home.  Now.  Who takes pictures of the husband in line at the grocery store with a little bouquet of flowers for his woman, over 2,000 days from their wedding? Who photographs day 4,991 when work is just at a dead-halt, and with bags under their eyes and fears inside their hearts, two people discuss options.  They weren't expecting to still have money issues "this far" in.  Who is there to photograph daddy mowing the lawn with his little dude following behind with a plastic toy, while mom and her quite grown-up daughter talk about what they want to do for her birthday this year?  Who is there for those long, beautiful, days that become long, beautiful years, where they "come together, fall apart, break each other's heart"?  "When the sound of little feet, is the music, they dance to week to week?"  I was (and still am) hungry to study marriages, not just wedding days.  I wanted to do photoshoots where I not only took pictures of people, but heard the whole story.  Where I asked lots of questions.  Where I took my time becoming emotional and inspired by their life and marriage.

With this desire in my heart (among other things!) I was moved to tears as I read a blog called "Joel's Journey."  A friend had showed it to me, and I spent one humid afternoon laying on a mattress in an empty house reading the story of a marriage.  Terry and Cindy Morris had a wedding day.  The had the smiling, waving, cheerful day one.  Someone was there to take pictures.  It was beautiful and good.  By day 7,331 they had become parents to 13 children on their Oklahoma farm, and one of them was getting ready to say good-bye to his family for a little while.  No one knew that little Joel wasn't going to be in their arms for 90 more days.  No one knew that the funny, root-tootin', round-headed three year old had a tumor.  But they found out.  I read from the beginning, with no ability to stop my body's response to the story, and though I knew Joel had died, I found myself cheering for him and his family.  I read about their initial doctors visits, their car rides back and forth, Joel leaving his home and farm for the last time (which, of course, they didn't know would be when it happened).  I read about his brain failure, but his little heart beating away.  I read about holidays and birthdays celebrated in his hospital room. Hours of reading and music and cuddles from mom, dad and his twelve best friends.  I read about the kind nurses and the cold nurses.  I read about the gut-wrenching search for a doctor who would continue to treat Joel (the hospital he was in refused to since his brain was dead, even though his heart was still beating and the family wanted him to be treated.)  I read about the Morris family being sued and having to go to court in the middle of caring for their son.  I read about the medical staff ignoring Joel's room, and Terry learning how to take care of him by researching online.  I read about the day that they decided to let Joel go back to the farm to let him be comfortable in his own house.  I read about little Hosanna's birthday party in his hospital room while they waited for an ambulance to take Joel home.  I read about the ambulance not making it in time.  I read about the entire Morris family surrounding Joel as he left our wearisome world and was healed forever.  


Cindy held him and wept. Terry was by her side. The children propped each other up, heartbroken.  Joel walked in a world they've never seen, but believe is more real than this earth.  He was greeted in paradise with cheers and open arms.  Joel will never hurt again, and will never die again.  He went home.  Home home.  It is very good that Joel lives in Heaven.  It is sharply sad that Joel is so missed by his family.  I read on their blog their hope in the promise of their God:  they WILL be reunited with Joel someday.  They WILL touch him and see his precious round face.  He is alive, and he is with God.  

I cried. Oh, I cried.  I could hardly make it through the next few years of blog posts.  The posts of fight and fear and questions and belief.  I was cut to the quick.  It's not often you come across such a real, vulnerable story.  I almost felt like I knew this family after I read their blog.  I wanted to know more about their story, and hear about the marriage that made it through the storm.  The marriage that is still walking through the storm.  I contacted Cindy and a shoot was planned.  Yes.  This trip would be about people.  This trip to Oklahoma would be about hugging Becca, laughing with Andree, meeting Cindy and Terry, and learning about their life and family.  Who cares if the state is boring?  It's not like I'm staying there or anything.  

With visions of miles and miles of flat nothing, lots of cows, big trucks and more nothing, I flew.  After landing, I realized my visions weren't flat enough.  And didn't imagine enough cows, trucks and nothing.  But I didn't care, my evening was happily spent with friends, eating soup and, yes, hugging.  Friday night came to a close and I slept on the couch (like usual) in my travel clothes, with all my make-up on.  

The next morning I did not pop right off the couch.  I groaned.  Where is my phone? And are my teeth made out of cottontails? Blech.  My eyes felt like the saltine crackers I had crunched into the soup.  The rim of my hair was sweaty.  I could feel it.  Where is my phone? I thwacked and patted the couch.  I stood up and it slid down the blanket as I shook it out.  AH-ha!  I checked the time, hoping I had at least an hour to take a shower and freshen up before the shoot.  Besides, I still had airplane peanut salt in my nails. No such luck.  I had about 15 minutes to get myself out the door.  Maybe even less.  Darn it darn it darn it.  

This photoshoot needed to start on time.  Mrs. Morris made it abundantly clear to me that her oldest boys needed to get to work as soon as possible.  Our 9 am start time was already cramping their groove.  I had seen on her blog that her oldest boys (twins!) had bought 25 acres of land (with cash!) and that they spent their Saturdays and evenings building their houses.  On a normal Saturday they would be at Home Depot by 6:00 am getting supplies.  Getting to the job site at 10:00 am was down right disgraceful!  "As soon as you finish taking their pictures, they'll need to go!  I think they're a little frustrated with me, makin' em take family pictures! But you know what, they just need to deal with it!"  I laughed in agreement.  Yes, suck it up, put on a smile and deal with it.  

I was a flurry that morning.  I pulled out my favorite black skirt.  It was still damp.  At least it smelled like Lavender Fields.  But you know how damp clothes fit.  They hang "heavy" and don't quite flatter.  I had a soft red cardigan to wear with my favorite black skirt.  It too was a little damp.  The cuff of the sleeve was loose and wide.  And for some reason the cardigan was more rounded then straight.  Just bad.  I shook and snapped it, hoping to give my favorite sweater a little life in it's veins.  Nothing.  I had a tight little black tank-top to wear underneath my cardigan.  Except that I didn't.  I thought I had a slim-fitted black camisole, but I guess in my packing rush I grabbed the wrong top out of the dryer.  Instead I had a flowy, loose, butterfly-sleeved, long, semi-pleated black Gap shirt.  Darn it.  I tucked the too-big top into my skirt and tried to arrange it neatly so that it might look like a smooth tank.  Instead I looked like a breast-feeding mother smuggling hamburgers .  It bunched in the back and gave me love handles.  It bunched in the front and gave me a trapezoid shaped mid-section.  Whatever.    


At this point I still hadn't addressed my face. Oh lordy.  A few days before this trip I decided to give myself bangs.  Bangs that started at my ears.  They were bad bangs.  They weren't cute like Zooey or Carrie or Liv.  Besides the fact that they were too wide (I've since learned that bangs are supposed to start at the end of your eyebrows, not the end of your forehead), they were also too thin.  And thanks to my complete lack of self control and ability to get myself ready for bed, set an alarm, and wake up on time, I found my self arranging a greasy wheat shoot field along my scalp.  When in Rome…? The rest of my hair was no better.  Flat, half-wavy, half-straight and quite split-end-y.  I wedged two bobby-pins in the back of my head, creating one of the most unfortunate half-up half-down hair styles I've ever seen.  On to my skin.  I swirled and swirled my powder foundation, leaving puffs of the make-up all over the bathroom counter.  Make-up never goes on well without moisturizer.  The powder just perched on my face like birds on a telephone line.  Darn it.  I forgot deodorant.  And eye-liner.  And toothpaste.  With a quick mascara application, apple breakfast and squirt of Becca's perfume, I danced out the door in my boots (but not in my socks.  Because I forgot socks too.)

The drive was quiet and calm.  Maybe the country is a little pretty in the morning.  My feet itched in my shoes.  Oh my gosh, my nails.  I was going to take this chipping polish off.  Oh well.  Before long, I found myself bumping along a gravel road, which dead-ended at a long dirt road, which led to a gravel driveway and the Morris property.  

The big red barn in the background proved that this was a farm.  Not that the little cowboy boots all over the yard, bleeting goat sounds, red-dirt soaked pick-up trucks in the driveway, playful dogs, crunchy and rolling fields, the parked dirtbike, horseshoe decor in the garden and stillness in the air wasn't enough.  Rap rap rap on the door was followed by running foot-steps, "MOoOOOOm!", muffled shutting doors, a little face in the window (that disappeared after a fast smile), and eventually the door opened by a lovely woman, dressed in black, purple and denim. "HI! Welcome! Welcome!"  There is no awkward confusion over whether you shake hands or hug here.  Cindy grinned and collected toys off the ground while walking into the cozy, country-themed living room.  Terry appeared with open arms, too.  He has story-eyes.  Good man story eyes.  And both Terry and Cindy looked much younger than I was expecting.  "We're running a little behind, I'm so sorry!  Oh, and Bethany is sick.  She was almost too sick to even get out of bed this morning.  But! She's a trooper!  She's getting ready! I'm going to help everyone get themselves fixed.  Make yourself at home!"  


I stood in front of the giant wooden table, with enough benches and chairs to seat 20 people.  To my right was a kitchen in the middle of renovation, to my left was a small TV room and an open door.  An arm stretched out past the open door and I saw the back of a tall boy putting on a black button-up shirt.  I turned away and sat down on a wooden wagon-wheel love seat.  Kids and animals slowly made their way into the living room.  The older kids introduced themselves and shook my hand.  The younger kids came in packs and would avoid eye contact as they popped out from behind walls and furniture.  I couldn't keep all the names straight.  Including Joel, the Morris' have nine sons.  There were boots-wearing, jean-clad, trimmed-hair, tan, cute boys everywhere.  All dressed in black or purple.  Some changing outfits in between viewings.  I didn't even try to remember their names!

It seemed that everybody was just about ready.  There were probably ten people in the living-room-kitchen-great-room when Daniel came down the hall and said hello.  Following right behind was Caleb.  Apparently these two put up a good ol’ fashioned stink about having to miss precious weekend time to build.  For family pictures nonetheless! They're too respectful to argue, but I’m sure there was stomping around in the bedroom, watching the clock constantly.  Muttering disappointments to each other.  Though the 23-year-old twins were tall and toned with fantastic jawlines, I was hardly impressed.  They were much too thin for my taste, and they both had matching stiff-gel-shlacked  hair-do's.  Their faces looked like chiseled statues that didn't move.  I'm not kidding.  Their facial expression was just that: an expression.  One. Singular.  They stood perfectly straight, with crisp owl-like head movements, and serious, focused looks.  I wanted to shake them and say "CHillllLLLl oooouut!"  The reader must keep in mind that I felt about as attractive as a bag of frozen bagel bites.  I was kind of crushing on a guy back home, but was mostly burnt-out with guys and trying to meet them.  


Besides, from what I could tell from the little bit I saw on their mothers blog and Facebook, it seemed that both the twins had their sights set on other girls.  Not to mention that I knew they were a part of a famously conservative homeschool program (the same one that the Duggar's of 19 Kids and Counting are in), so I knew that I would NOT be the kind of girl ANYone in this household would take seriously.  That last sentence was very judgmental of me, but also came from fairly reliable information about families in this organization.  Many have told tales of being snapped at for wearing pants and "dressing like a harlot."  Let's not even talk about crazy music choices, like Taylor Swift and Beyonce'!  All that to say, I had no mixed motives when I entered that household.  No part of me even remotely thought "I wonder if I'll meet a cute dude here! Giddyup!"  


Caleb walked over and shook my hand.  I hardly remember it. I hardly cared. I promptly began counting children and asked to get this shoot going.  


Caleb, on the other hand, felt sparks. 

Enjoy People | Ryan + Christina | Glen Echo Engagement Shoot

"i had a dream that I had to drive to madison
to deliver a painting for some silly reason
i took a wrong turn and ended up in michigan
a pallbearer aboard took me to the giant tire swing"
kim dawson

In October I received an e-mail from a woman, asking me to shoot her wedding. Sweet! So far, so normal.  I'm used to that.  "I'm sending you some pictures so you get a feel for us as a couple!"  Wonderful.  I ask for that on my website.  Also normal!  The pictures downloaded.  There was a woman in a floral jacket with a horse head/mask on in a candy store.  Picture number two: A man flailing between the teeth of a giant plastic shark (the kind outside of aquariums or inside SeaWorld where mom's take tourist photos and teenage boys stick their heads inside the mouth and think it's so so funny.)  Ryan didn't just pop his head in and make a scary face... he is curled up inside the mouth of the shark.  His whole body. There was another picture of him sitting on a giant pink hand... of her wearing a blue bicycle helmet... of them smiling in front of a rain forest.  Just to be clear: not normal.

And I loved it.  Our first coffee meet-up was over two hours long.  They told me story after story.  I heard about Cheerio-eating goats, cats named after royalty, monocles. My Little Pony, nerds, Facebook messaging, strawberry lemonade, and moving.  It's rare to come across such fascinating, funny, real and quirky people.  As soon as I was finished with the "meeting" I told Caleb that I was smitten with them.  "They're incredible.  They're hilarious.  They're loud.  They're just so much fun. I had so much fun."   

So, enjoy this pair today.  I don't feel like I can explain them well enough to do them justice.  They're sweet.  They're weird.  They're genuine.  Just... yes.  Just enjoy their faces and love:

(Ah, yes.  The Pity Head Pats.  I've been victim to those one-too-many-times.  "Poor little girl." Pat pat pat.)

 

Enjoy Project | People | Twins + Violins

you are
home, home
where i wanted to go
clocks - coldplay 

After all the smack-talk and big-mouthing I got about how nothing compares to Oklahoma... I must say I'm very pleased to have successfully convinced two cowboys to join me in the "big city."  My darling fiance' once again shares a room with his twin brother.  In the "big city." Muhaha. ;)

Besides having family in town, the best part of these two being together is their incredible musical gifting and talent.  Combined they have been playing music for 38 years, and it all began with teaching themselves piano.  In an effort to really make a living by playing music, The Other Twin (aka: Daniel) has set up a nice little facebook page.   Please don't like it "just because."  Listen to them and see what you think.  If you like - or dareisay love! - the sounds you hear, let them know!  Share their video or like their page or even send them a message.

They are available and eager to teach lessons as well as play for weddings.  In the "big city." ;)

(They had never heard "Clocks" by Coldplay.  In an hour they were playing this:)

(Caleb still hasn't heard "I'm Yours."  But he can play it.  They are freaks of nature.  In the "big city.")

Maybe I have to give Oklahoma some credit for raising these tall, gorgeous, disciplined, creative men after all.  Maybe they were right: maybe nothing compares to Oklahoma.

Enjoying People + Videos | Oh My My My Video Series

when will you learn that there isn't a word for everything?

nicole krauss

Originally I had intended to show you friends one of my all-time favorite date nights.  I had recorded some video footage during the date and yesterday I set off to make those clips a brief and jolly moving memory.

Instead, however, I looked through nearly every video in my library.  I believe in the power of a still, silent photograph, but the movement and sounds in a video... wow.  It was very emotional!

So I changed my plans.  This video is one to coincide with part four of my story "Oh My My My." If you haven't read it yet, you should catch up while it's still relatively short and then come back and watch the video ;)

If you have read up to part four, you'll enjoy 180 seconds of the green kitchen, the blue-gray house, the last few days before "the good-byes" and the official departures of both families.  I had completely forgotten that I took videos of both their moves!  It is almost uncanny to watch now knowing what has happened since then.  God is great, life is good and people are crazy ;)

Enjoy People | Entering the World | Edith Grace

"it was a year or so after the wedding,
that dad confided to mother his secret conviction:
that all of their children would be girls."
cheaper by the dozen | frank + ernestine gilbreth

Baby Sister has felt very earned.  Her mama, Janet, and her "aunts" and "uncles" and grandma and daddy and even older sister waited and worked very hard for her.  Bedrest, contractions, meals, early labor, babysitting, late nights, cleaning, contractions, bedrest, midwife appointments, hospital trips, hospital returns, and trips that were coming dangerously close to Baby Sister's birthday kept us all on our toes and pinkies.


But on March 31 at 2:09 am (barely an hour and a half after checking into the hospital) Baby Sister was welcomed to this big, beautiful world by her thrilled and doting parents, excited and heroic Aunt Becca, and kind and nurturing Aunt Jenne.

A few hours later I dropped in to meet the newest (and nameless) girl in my world.  When I arrived she was having some emotions. Janet told me that this little girl knows who her mommy is, and knows when she wants mommy.  

Her squawks lessened and she was groggy.

She made eye contact with her mom.

Pathetic whimpers trembled out. "Roooo. Roo. Ree. Roooo." She had to tell mom some pretty sad things, I think.

Janet loved and snuggled and talked to and laughed at Baby Sister.

"She loves her hands! What a wonderful self-soother I have!" Jan noted.  This little person smacked and slobbered on her knuckles like a dog with it's tennis ball. 

But then the big bad doctor came and peeled her away from mommy.  Her little face in the baby bed sawed my heart in three.  She literally rolled her head over towards me and put her fists up on the glass and... just looked so sad!

Knuckles to the rescue once more!

(I call her PopTart because of her nose.  It pops!)

It's a very, very bad situation being a baby girl ;)

OooOOh. OH. Those fat soft arm folds!

So many emotions. So many emotionals. Guess who was ready for mom time?

Janet's sense of humor is one of her best qualities.  Baby Sister grunted and gnawed on her shirt and it totally tickled Jan.

Flakes and teeny white nose bumps and scrunchy fingers.

"Giiiiive meeee my haaaands."

Omononommnom nom.

Shortly we received word that Grandma (G-ma) and Big Sister, Audrey, were on their way!

Audrey is an unnaturally bright child (I'm not her mother, I can say that!) and she has been very excited about meeting her sister.  We all have been quite curious to how she'd react to Jan's belly being gone and a baby being here.  Though Audrey is constantly around babies, we wonder how much she "gets" that this one is hers. 

Meanwhile PopTart was feeling much calmer.  Her heart was soothed.

And her hands were clasped. 

Jan looked at her little face and practiced names on her.  It's a very important decision to make!

And then we heard a high-pitched voice down the hall.

I love Audrey's faces.

Audrey seemed confused.  Not upset, not bored, not thrilled, but very thoughtful.  She watched every move Baby Sister and Mommy made.

"Do you want to hold your sister, Audrey?"This one makes me cry.  When they handed A her sister she immediately looked straight into Janet's eyes - needing some reassurance and affirmation. "This is your sister! She's our baby! Can you say hi to her?"Audrey thoughtfully looked at PopTart. PopTart gnawed those knuckles.(fuuuuunnny!)Once G-ma had Baby Sister, Audrey seemed less confused.  And rather excited!

As I was heading out the door I turned around and saw this scene. Audrey locked on Baby Sister.

Audrey whispered to her mama "That baby sister?"

Mama confirmed "Yes, that's Baby Sister!"

Audrey snuggled up. "Oh, she's so cute."

You are so cute, Edith Grace Remsnyder.  And loved by all shapes and sizes, near and far.  You are wanted, treasured and wonderful to us.

Welcome to your life! Hang on tight :D

"...when a mother has delivered a baby, 
she no longer remembers the anguish, 
for joy that a human being has been born into the world."
john 16:21

Enjoy People | Graduating High School | Ellie

i said a prayer and fell asleep
i had a dream
priscilla ahn - dream

One of my first consistent baby-sitting jobs was for a sweet family with four little girls.  Their first born was fair-skinned, talkative nine-year-old named Ellie.  Nine year old Ellie loved to make me cards, and crafts, and signs, and mini-scrapbooks.  Every single time I went to baby-sit I was greeted with a gallery of art made specifically for me.  I loved these little girls.  Sometimes when they went to bed I'd stay up and make crafts for them to find in the morning (once I think I even made a whole "good morning" scavenger hunt with clues!)  

When I bought and began practicing with my darling Nikon D50, Ellie was curious.  She'd long gotten used to me bringing over a point-and-shoot to take pictures of our adventures, but this new black camera had won her affection.  She always wanted me to bring my big camera.  She asked many questions.  She posed for me.  One night as we crafted away (and I held the newest Berry baby - their fifth girl!) Ellie and I talked about working together someday in business. At the time I thought I was just being nice to a friendly little girl I really loved, but it's funny how God allows conversations like that to occur.  This past year Ellie has been my number one second-shooter.  She's just as friendly and eager as she was as a child, but now she's a lady.  She's a lady with a tender heart, daring plans and earned talent.  

I love working with her, knowing her and enjoying this dear friend God put into my world.  Ellie, thank you your friendship.  I really mean that.  And go have fun exploring the world with your black box, making brave decisions and living your life.  You're going to have a ball. 

Enjoy People | Married for A Long Time

"here’s no secret to our marriage, 
we just did what was needed for each other and our family."
mr. + mrs. fisher

Zelmyra, oh-so-lovely in pink, is 101 years old and Herbert, quite stylin' himself, is 104 and they have been married for almost 86 years. For atey sicks years.

I'm very aware of "marriage advice" these days.  Don't we all want to be Zelmyra and Herbert? I read this sweet article about them and just had to share.  This has to make you smile.

---
Is there anything you would do differently after more than 80 years of marriage?

We wouldn’t change a thing. There’s no secret to our marriage, we just did what was needed for each other and our family.

You got married very young – how did u both manage to grow as individuals yet not grow apart as a couple?

“Everyone who plants a seed and harvests the crop celebrates together.” We are individuals, but accomplish more together.

Does communicating get easier with time? 

The children are grown, so we talk more now. We can enjoy our time on the porch or our rocking chairs – together.

At the end of bad relationship day, what is the most important thing to remind yourselves?

Remember marriage is not a contest – never keep a score. God has put the two of you together on the same team to win.
---

I love their theme of "together."  Enjoy together. Celebrate together. Take care of your family together.  Rock on your porch together.

Noted, Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, noted.

Enjoy Project | How Us People Got Engaged

"life is so constructed, that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation."
charlotte bronte
This is a once in a lifetime post that is understandably hard to know where to begin.  Last week I began the story of "us" on this blog, fully expecting I had plenty of time to build up to this post I'm typing right now.  I had no idea I'd be engaged the very next day.  By "no idea" I mean zero minus nothing subtracted by absence take away nihility and then get rid of oblivion and that is how little of an idea I had that this would be happening.  I'm not sure how much detail I should include in here, but my heart and head and knee-caps are still quivering and I have lot to say ;)  Feel free to skip down and look at all the perfect pictures (taken by Lydia Jane.)  If you'd like to hear this the whole goozy-girly way, snuggle up ;)
Friday: I had spent a full week at the hospital with my sick Mama Bear in Florida.  We had found out the previous week that she has cancer, so I flew down to take care of her in the hospital.  I bought a one-way ticket and wasn't sure when I'd be heading back to Maryland (where I live).  On Wednesday Caleb and I finally firmed up plans for him to come visit for the weekend.  He told me he couldn't miss any work, so he would need to take a late flight to Florida on Friday, and be home at a decent hour on Sunday.  In the hospital mom and I booked his flights.  Our plan for the weekend (actually, correction MY plan for the weekend... MY idea for the weekend... MY suggestion for the weekend... MY dream for the weekend...) was to go to DisneyWorld with my whole family and Caleb, the-never-been-to-Disney-ed.  You have to understand something about Disney Parks and my family: my grandparents, California natives, went to Disneyland opening week.  My mother was born a few years later and she grew up at the park, as did her three siblings.  As they grew older and married and had their own families, Disney was always the dream vacation location.  I will still never forget my first trip to Disneyland (a Christmas present for us kids).  My aunts and uncles and parents saved up to take big Disney trips together, with coordinating outfits for the album pages.  My aunt used to have a Disney room and her e-mail addresses over the years are always Disney related.  As a child watching and hearing your parents and adults in your life so excited about Disney, and literally like giddy little children in the park, well, it's completely contagious and particularly happy.  When I was nine my parents moved from the Washington DC area back to the Southern California area.  We got season passes to Disneyland and though we only lived in San Diego for 15 months, we went to Disneyland nearly 20 times.  We quickly found ourselves back in Maryland, but my parents moved to Florida about 18 months ago.  Without hesitation they bought season passes to Disneyworld.  My cousin met her now-husband at Disneyland and also got engaged at Disneyland.  AND my favorite movie (not Disney movie, movie) is Cinderella.  I love Cinderella's castle and character and mice friends ("GusGus! GusGus! NooOoo. Lucifey not funny.  Lucifey meaaaaan.")  I can quote all the lines, sing all the songs and I still laugh at the witty lines.  I love Cinderella.  I love Disney.  I only have happy, sing-song, smiling-parents, excited hearts, beautiful memories at Disney Parks.
So, for me to want to bring Caleb to Disneyworld with my whole family, especially the little children and especiallyespecially my mom, is a huge deal to me.  Not to mention facing this new season of mom being sick, I really was begging everyone to make this trip work.  Mom said she felt well enough to go, and half the kids were planning on going with friends that weekend anyway.  But somehow, come Friday, everyone had backed out... including my mom.  My dad insisted my little sisters not miss their soccer tournament.  My brother had to work.  Mom was much more tired than she thought she'd be.  My other sister needed to drive soccer carpools.  It just wasn't working anymore.  I didn't want to go without them.  My mom pleaded with me to go.  "It would make me so happy.  You've had a long week.  Go with Caleb and enjoy it.  Take lots of pictures and come back and tell me all about it."  I wasn't convinced.  I told her I'd talk to Caleb and see what he thought.  When we chatted on the phone about it he was equally reluctant to go.  "Man, I would almost rather just stay home with your mom and spend time with her than go without her!"  But somehow my parents swayed me and I said I would ONLY go if it was absolutely what my mom wanted.  
After about three hours of sleep Caleb and I loaded up and left for Orlando.  Let me re-phrase that: after three hours of sleep I loaded up and Caleb slept in. (I note this not to bash Caleb... I love when he gets to sleep in!  But I certainly did not expect him to sleep peacefully and well the night before he proposed.) Let me also add here one important note: I have always only wanted one thing when I got engaged, and that was to be completely surprised.  I didn't care if it was in public or private, with a big or small ring, with friends around or totally alone.  I just wanted to be caught off-guard.  Sweet.  
Caleb and I are now at Disney.  And I'm in full-out Disney mode.  I got my maps.  I got my schedule of events.  I'm large and in charge and woman hear me roar.  Coordinating fast passes, show times, our little cash budget, and pointing out all sweet little children in costumes was keeping me oh-so-busy.  Not to mention smiling from ear to ear.  I told Caleb half-way through the day that my cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.  We were having so much fun.  My mental countdown knew he was leaving in X hours and I couldn't bear the thought.  I was so happy being in such a cheery place and not in a hospital.  I was so happy that mom was home and resting well.  I was so happy that Caleb loved all the detailed buildings, charming employees, manicured landscaping, constant music, colorful atmosphere, and surreal mood as much as I did.  We ooo-ed and awww-ed about crown molding and scalloped foot-paths and coffee ice cream floats in the French Quarter.
As they day went on Caleb and I often stopped to scout out our ideal place to watch the fireworks.  He wanted to be on the side of the castle.  I insisted that we be in the center of the castle.  "Trust me!  It's the best view! You have to see this from the center!" then we'd skip over to Tom Sawyer's Island or The Haunted Mansion.  By dinnertime we found ourselves at Liberty Tree Tavern, my favorite restaurant in the park.  Mostly because of their green beans and gravy.  I LOVE THEIR GREEN BEANS SO MUCH.  Caleb also happens to love good green beans.  All day long I talked about the crisp, garlic-y green beans.  I googled the menu to make sure green beans were still on it.  I announced that I was going to order five plates of green beans.  I literally brought up green beans five or six times throughout the day.  Once we got to dinner I asked the waiter if the seasonal vegetable was green beans.  He said "Yes, they are."  I bopped in my seat and clasped my hands together.  Five minutes later Caleb looked up and noticed the food on the table next to us.  "WHat! They have green beans here?!" he exclaimed.  I must have given him "the" look we girls give.  "Caleb.  Are you seriously asking that?"  I wasn't actually annoyed, more shocked.  Has he really missed that much today?  How could he not remember me talking about that so often?  We continued on with our meal, Caleb made multiple trips to the bathroom, I even caught him on the phone in the hallway not in the bathroom, he didn't eat, he was acting weird and aloof.  All the signs everyone tells you about ;)  But I wasn't suspicious of anything.
We left dinner and I changed plans: instead of riding a ride and then going to find a spot for the parade, lets just go to main street and get a really, really good spot:I marched across the street and informed Caleb that this center view of the castle, off the curb, next to a garden (away from people) would be the best view of the fireworks.  Aren't I a helpful little fiance'-to-be?! He loved it.  And though he had planned to do something a little different (in grass, not in a gated PERECT flower garden) he didn't want to give anything away so he let us stay there. We had over an hour to kill before the parade (at 9:00, followed by the lights show at 10:00, followed by the fireworks display at 10:30).  I talked and asked him why he wasn't listening to me ;) and talked some more and tried to stay warm and wondered why he was looking all around and talked and asked him if the mints he was pulling out of his pocket was really a ring. I'm a lot to handle.The parade finally started.  I asked Caleb all kinds of questions.  He gave me one-word answers.  I told funny jokes and he really didn't laugh.  I assumed he was tired. And we arrive at the fireworks portion of the evening.  I can hear Caleb's heart beating violently.  I think nothing of it.  Instead I went into a huge rant about firework preferences.  "Caleb!  What is your favorite kind of firework? My favorite fireworks are the gold shimmery ones that look like willow trees!  Not the ones with lots of little lines that shoot out but the soft drippy ones.  Like THAT one! It's sooOOOooo pretty!  What's your favorite kind?" He doesn't answer, instead he's looking over his shoulder again.  "Caleb.  It's an important thing to know about your boyfriend.  What is your favorite kind of fireworks?" He managed an answer: "The big ones."  I scrunch my face and start to question is answer "The big o--..." but as I started talking he scooped my up and set me over the fence, right inside the flower garden.  "MY PURSE!" He told me not to worry about my purse.  And that is the last thing I clearly remember for the following five minutes.Once I realized I was leaving my purse behind I knew what was happening.  I lost it.  Full on ugly bawling.  Quivering second-chin and smooshed-nose and sputtering, goat-like sounds.  He got down on one knee.  He said a few things.  I don't remember any of it. I started to fall over and crumple.  He held me up.He asked me three times to be his wife.  I had no words.  I didn't forget to say yes.  I couldn't say yes.  I felt like I was about to fainting and fly and turn into a vapor.  I've never experience so much physical reaction to a single thing.  Every part of me was firing off and going ballistic.  I didn't know how to even begin to reign in the emotion.  It would be like try to hold off a tornado with a spoon.A "yes" tumbled out eventually.
Apparently the fireworks continued on, dozens and dozens of people cheered and whistled and clapped and photographed us, Lydia (who secretly flew in to photograph this!) snapped away.  I didn't hear or see any of it.   I did cry a lot, however. And I finally "came to" as the finale started to fire away.  The first thing I said was "This means I'm going to be Kristen Morris!" - two words I had never said side-by-side, out loud.  I literally felt my knees knocking together.  The fireworks were nothing compared to my insides.  He did it.  He surprised me at at Disney, in front of Cinderella's castle.  I'm still undone. I didn't look at the ring until well after the fireworks stopped.  It's just utterly gorgeous.  The most beautiful, glamorous, lovely, special, perfect ring.  He spent months making that ring happen.  Five months.  He worked so hard on it.  He spent so many hours and nights.  As much as I love that ring, I love how ardently he attended to that ring.  The jeweler who finally made his dream come to life told Caleb that in 52 years of business he'd never seen a man put so much care into the ring being perfect.  I stand by it: no one on earth loves as excessively and fully as Caleb does.  I don't know how he gets to be mine.   I'm so glad I stopped crying at some point ;)  Because I was so happy.  I literally had no idea it was possible to be this full of joy.   The ring just got better and better the more I checked it out ;)

Some sweet whistlers-and-clappers just had to see my peach sapphire goodness ;)  And they are officially the first people I got to show-off my ring to!

I adore that man.  "Can one die of happiness?"  

I'm ever-impressed with Caleb and his detailed, quiet, patient, specific, happy, fearless, dreaming love.  I love him.  I love him so much.  I love that he's so different from what I imagined for myself.  I love that he is an excessively talented musician and you'd never ever hear that or believe that by talking to him.  I love that he packed up his pick-up truck and moved across the country to date me, that he wasn't afraid.  I love that he sings "Tale Old as Time" constantly.  I love that he brings scripture to bear, for the Word of the Lord is living and true.  I love that he plays with me. Oh, we have so much fun playing together!  We love to play.  I love that he doesn't make excuses for himself, he doesn't put any burden on me, but always comes along side me to help carry the weight or he removes it all-together, I love that he brings my glasses of ice water at night.  I love that he loves children and that they love him.  I love that he can't wait to be a father.  I love that he talks about building his daughter's a dollhouse.  I love that he always is up for anything; he's so flexible and easy-going and selfless.  I love that he's a perfectionist and has to have things done a certain way.  I love that he falls asleep anywhere (just like me... It's a big family thing, I think.)  I love love love love his accent and jawline.  I love that he's humble, happy and loves a good challenge.  I love that his hands are calloused, his biceps are hard, his eyes tear easily and that his smile is constant.  I love his country upbringing, his family and his vigor.  I love him.  I love that he schemed and planned and played it cool and worked so hard on this proposal.  I love how well he had to know me in order to pull it off.  Cowboy, you far exceeded my expectations.  

"I hold myself supremely blest - blest beyond what language can express.  I know no weariness of my Edward's society: he knows none of mine, any more than we each do the pulsation of the heart that beats in our separate bosoms; consequently, we are ever together. To be together is for us to be at once free as in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but more animated and an audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character - perfect concord is the result.” (Charlotte Bronte)

"You have done wonderful things, plans of old, faithful and sure."  God did this, and this is for Him.  Our joy is a morsel of our joy in Him, and mostly His joy in us.  Our Happy King delights in us and with us, and it is good to be His.  So so good.  Because He gives His children good gifts.  Gifts like falling in love and Caleb and DisneyWorld and grandparents and fireworks and Walt Disney and best friends and shiny stones and wonderful mama bears and marriage and green beans.


(Um. And I'm going to get married? And be a wife? Because I'm engaged... to be married... what other kind of engaged is there? HE'S GOING TO BE MY HUSBAND!)

Enjoy People from Oklahoma | Meeting Niagara Falls

"It was one of those smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it,

that you may come across four or five times in a life.

It faced - or seemed to face - the whole eternal world for an instant, and then

concentrated on you 

with an irresistible prejudice in your favour.

It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood,

believed in you just as you would like to believe in yourself,

and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best,

you hoped to convey."

f. scott fitzgerald

My Oklahoma boi-fraaaan has spent the majority of his 24 years in the states of Oklahoma, Texas and Arkansas.  Thanks to family road-trips and school conventions he made it to surrounding midwest states: Kentucky, Tennessee, Colorado and the like.  Basically, he's been everywhere I haven't.  Because, I, on the other hand, have spent the most of my 22 years in a giant U of North America: New York, Philadelphia, Washington DC, The Carolina's, Florida, Georgia, Mexico, Arizona, San Diego and LA, Nevada, Monterey and Northern California, Washington and Seattle, and finally up to Vancouver.   (Not to mention the various European and island jaunts to Panama, Aruba, The Grand Cayman Islands, Costa Rica, Jamaica, London and other English cities, Northern Ireland, Ireland and Scotland.)

When MisterMister moved to the east coast in his Amazing Race to win a particularly confusing girl, he was instantly smitten with the new surroundings.  Flat land, dirt roads, short trees, long straight drives and eternal skylines are what he's used to.  He loves the winding roads, the super tall trees, the mix of mountain/river/city/country/suburb the DC area boasts.  He loves the history and the tall trees.  I think his favorite part of Maryland is the tall trees (well, and all the traffic lights. Boy oh boy does he love himself a good long traffic light! Or two! Or three! ;)

Sometime in the summer he had a work project up near Niagara Falls.  Though my dad is from upstate New York and I've been to that state dozens of times, I'd never seen The Falls! Tragic! We decided to channel our inner Jim and Pam and make an experience out of it.  I flew up to Buffalo after his work week, and he whisked me away to America's most famous falling water.  

If you though he had a thing for tall trees, you should have seen his demeanor around tall water! Class act.I'm about half the size of those rocks down in the corner:Happy, blink-y, scruffy, plastic, misty fun.This weekend together changed something in us.  It was our first week apart since dating, we wore ponchos, we picked flowers, we sang to the Tarzan soundtrack, we drove home together in a truck for 16 hours, we concentrated on each other, we celebrated a monthiversary, we enjoyed wonders, we sat on thorns, we ate snow cones, we sparkled, we talked, we people-watched, we created new inside jokes, we sat next to each other in the bench seat of his pick-up, we were silent, we slipped on wet rocks, we didn't drink margaritas, we laughed, we made up scenarios "if you fell into the rive right here, what would you do?" (my plan was always to find the nearest rock or log, his was always to swim to shore), we opened presents, we changed.  

I'll end with the same quote I started this post with:

"It was one of those smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it,

that you may come across four or five times in a life.

It faced - or seemed to face - the whole eternal world for an instant, and then

concentrated on you 

with an irresistible prejudice in your favour.

It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood,

believed in you just as you would like to believe in yourself,

and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best,

you hoped to convey."

f. scott fitzgerald

Enjoy People from Oklahoma | Gingela

One thing I genuinely appreciate is a person who can make me laugh with one line.  Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy funny story-telling, comedic build-up to the punch line, or a long streaming scene of humor that snowballs on itself (like The Office episode where Dwight sets the office on fire and Angela throws her cat into the ceiling "The fire is shooting at us!")  But those swiftly, smartly spoken one-liners have a different skill to them.  You must be sharp and engaged, quick and amused.  


Last year when I stumbled across Angela Sawyer (or "gingela5's") twitter via Pioneer Woman's twitter, I was hooked.  Every tweet made me laugh.  I love her focus on work blues, being a "fat girl" (aka: anyone not a size 0 who eats raisins on Thanksgiving?) and her dogs.  Short story: Her tweets make me laugh.  But they also make me say "YES. SO true! Happens to me all the time!"  Here are a few examples:

- Tip: when you're the passenger on a road trip, before distributing fries, eat some out of BOTH containers. That way you get a few extra.

- My hair never looks cuter than when I'm getting ready to hop into bed.

   

- Yes, I got this cut on my wrist digging through my car because I thought a mayo packet happened to be a fun size butterfinger. :(#fatgirl

I asked this fiercely loyal Oklahoman (all native Oklahoman's are fiercely loyal, I've learned) to tell us a bit about Oklahoma life and guest blog for me today. Enjoy! (And go follow her on twitter!)

--

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOklahoma…where the wind comes sweeping down the plains…


What is there to say about Oklahoma? Not much, so let’s talk about something more exciting. ME!


Kristen emailed me about a week ago and asked me to write a guest blog post for her. She simply told me to write about Oklahoma and told me to run with it and write whatever I wanted to write. Since my life is excruciatingly boring I told her I’d just lie and embellish like I do in real life.

By the way, my name is Angela—you can call me anything you want but never, ever call me Angie. Ever. I’ve lived in Oklahoma my whole life in a little town called Oklahoma City. Okay, maybe it’s not a small town but I’m sure there are still some people out there that think that we still ride horses everywhere and have to stop for cows when we’re driving down the road. People, we have a Wal Mart—we’re in the big leagues here! Actually, the suburb I live in, Edmond if you want to get technical, is a thriving city. We have not one, but two Targets and (be ready to be jealous) about four Chick-Fil-A’s within minutes of my house. I have a lovely husband and two dogs that make my life miserable, but I love them. While life may not be fast-paced and crazy, my husband and I take time to enjoy the laid-back environment of Oklahoma.


I’ll begin by telling you how I earned my first million dollars…Okay, okay, okay…that would have been a major lie and embellishment. I’ll be truthful and in turn bore the snot out of you from here on out!


We fill most evenings working out (aka kicking my husband’s butt in the gym) or relaxing with the dogs. Our favorite thing to do in the OKC is going to Oklahoma City Thunder games. As luck would have it, my dad got us season tickets this year so we get to go to every home game. Unfortunately, I always spend 90% of the game people watching or catching up on Twitter so I only catch about 10% of the game. I’m sure that’s exactly what my dad intended when he bought the tickets for us.

If you’re a wuss when it comes to weather, don’t come here. Especially in the springtime. While this is one of my favorite things about Oklahoma, many people don’t appreciate the beauty of a tornado. Which I think is crazy—who doesn’t love running to a shelter two or three times a storm season? It’s great exercise. In fact last year we spent three or four hours of my husband’s birthday huddled in a shelter with our dogs and about a hundred other people. It’s actually the exact way I’d want to spend my birthday but he wasn’t too thrilled with it. It got me out of giving him a gift—we came home to our house still standing and I just said, 'Happy Birthday!'


My husband and I are easily entertained, so that’s probably why we love Oklahoma so much. I’m using the word “we” loosely. He has to love Oklahoma whether he wants to or not. That’s just the kind of love I show him… 'LOVE OKLAHOMA or ELSE!!' At this point he’s probably wanting the “else” part of that threat. We love here and if I had it my way I’d never leave. Oklahoma is Okla-HOME-a to me! (If you didn’t roll your eyes, you should have. That was a lame joke.)


Thanks for taking a small, tiny peek at my life in the great state of Oklahoma!"

Thanks so much for the post Gingela5! You crack me up.  Keep on keeping on ;)

Enjoy People from Oklahoma | Carlotta

“no friendship is an accident. ”
o. Henry, heart of the west

Carlotta is an old soul.  That sounds somewhat hokey (and I actually haven't met this pretty little fourteen-year-old face) but she is incredibly methodical, peaceful and observant, beyond her years. Her blog is consistently filled with lovely life details, precious thoughts, creative endeavors and just plain ol' inspiration.  Enjoy the following post from the first of four Oklahoma people I enjoy:

Hey there! I'm Carlotta and I blog over at Pastor's Girl's Ponderings. I'm so excited to be here today...I think we all agree that Kristen is pretty much the best, yes? She asked me to post about Oklahoma...which, considering this is where I live, is a subject close to my heart.

I'm an Oklahoma transplant--I've only been living here four years. But dang, when I moved here I never expected to fall so in love. Oklahoma tends to be an over-looked state--country you just drive through or fly over and never give it much thought.

But it's a state that's rich with history, breath-taking views, and some of the sweetest people you will ever meet. I love the mix of big city (which is large enough to feel cultured but you still run into people you know everywhere) and country, the wide, wide open spaces, and tucked into the valleys, hidden caves and rocky paths begging to be explored.

I love the wild mustangs running free, the abundance of cows dotting the fields, and--yes, I'm going to go here--the wind that sweeps down the plain. Oklahoma is full of surprises and discoveries just waiting to be made. I love every inch of this glorious state...and I feel so blessed that I get to call it home.

Much Love,

Carlotta