Year In Review 2015 | I'm Kristen Photography

2015 was a wonderful year behind my camera! I enjoyed shooting 15 weddings, plus second shot five weddings, and then three proposals and a couple dozen portrait sessions. This post is just a review of all the weddings I haven't blogged yet this year (Neill and Kate's wedding is here!). While some of my favorite pictures are certainly included, many of these represent favorite memories and moments of each wedding day. As I went through each day start to finish it warmed my heart to re-see the faces.

Pulling a segment from my website: "I don't take and present photographs because it's cute, but because I am a Note Taker, a Story Teller. You are the sonnet, you are a part of the play, and the times of your life matter. It is sincere delight for me to be allowed to walk into the doors of your world, tap into my heart, and let your joy become mine -- whether it be a wedding, a birth, a high school graduation, or a Christmas card portrait.  I know our sessions together aren't the whole story -- the nights without sleep, the gulp in your throat, the lost ones you miss, the insecurities, the numbness -- but I know our sessions are a real, that we are here logging history with a black box and light. It's magic.  I believe in family, marriage, parenthood, new starts, figuring it out, I believe in wholehearted relationship, I believe in lasting love and I know awfully sad things happen in those places. But I believe in fighting for the good, fighting to believe that the best is yet to come, that the struggle is worth it, that being known and loved -- and knowing and loving -- are what give us life and bring us the greatest joy. So, here's to the grand adventure and all the stories, and hope beyond tomorrow! *clink*" Happy Days Gone By, everyone, and thank you for letting me live parts of my life alongside yours.


| The Preparations |

| The Ceremony |

View fullsize

| The Newlyweds |

| The Celebrating |

VENUE RUNDOWN | Trummer's On Main -- Strong Mansion -- Rockland Estates -- Ivy at Dewey Beach -- Woodend Sanctuary -- Newburyport City Hall -- Springfield Barn -- Stagecoach Inn -- Belmont Manor --  Marquardt Ranch -- Morningside Inn -- The Woods Chapel --  White Manor Country Club

A special thank you to all my second-shooters this year! Ellie Be, Elizabeth Baxter, Caroline Ruth, Elise Benjamin, Dom, Ally Michelle and the Mr. Morris himself. Thank you for working hard for my clients and me, for keeping track of the family shot lists, for keeping me hydrated, and for doing such beautiful work! 

Neill + Kate | California Stagecoach Inn Wedding

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
W. Shakespeare

My mom's sister married into the Borden family.  The Borden family is a huge, tight-knit, mostly-female, FUN crew.  When the first cousin, Kate, got engaged everyone was thrilled. She and her twin sister Beth are so close to the rest of the cousins, and the love the between all the Bordens was noisy and strong all wedding day!

Kate is an elementary school teacher, who has a bit of musical theater in her soul. The entire day was filled with songs, performances and "ta-da's!"  These folks know how to make a memory, and how to make you feel like family.  Neill is a warm, joyous man who appreciates the good things in life and doesn't take what he has for granted. He is a perfect addition to the new big family, and he's going to have a creative, memory-filled life with spunky Kate by his side!

Congratulations, Neill and Kate! Your wedding was one of my favorites of all-time!

Reception Venue / Stagecoach Inn
Wedding Cakes / Nothing Bundt Cake

DANIEL + ERIN TEASERS

"And we tore our dresses and stained our shirts,
But it's nice today,
Oh the wait was so worth it"
Jason Mraz

It's probably cheating to post an almost 20-image "teaser" but the rules bend for family, and now both of these wonderful people are indeed my family.  If you've followed along online you might know the gist of the story: Big family on the farm in Oklahoma with eldest twin boys. First twin meets and marries... me! and leaves the middle of the country for the east coast. Second twin, through a half-humorous half-serious matchmaking instagram post, meets a girl on the west coast. And they, as of last week, have married!  

This was a large family event, and we all looked forward to this time with Dan for many years. After the wedding we all chit-chatted about and soaked up the day by remembering our favorite parts. The three memories that came up the most often were their First Look, the ceremony - particularly the way the stories were told and just watching Dan and Erin together, and the toasts at the reception.  Since Ally Michelle (the light of my photography world and all-around Best Person nominee) and I took over 8000 frames, I get a little stuck when I want to post a "quick sneak peek!" It all means so much to me and it's hard to not lay it our in order and tell it all right.

But I'm settling for showing a few frames of some of our collective "family favorite" moments, and so much more is coming soon (including, hopefully, cousins for my son ;) Right guys?)

We love you we love you we love you! And absurd amounts to follow shortly! Cousins!

Years In Review | I'm Kristen Photography 2014

“time was passing like a hand waving from a train i wanted to be on."

  jonathan safran foer

In the way "When are you due!" is the question when you're pregnant, "Are you still doing photography!" is the question when, well, you disappear from the internet and stop posting any current photography. (Yes, I am still doing and have been doing photography. Just, differently.)

The last 18 months have, with no exaggeration, been the "most" times of my life.  It has been much -- from that day in June when our firstborn was delivered, to that day in January when my mom was delivered (from earth), to that day in April when blood on toilet paper met our second-born was no longer with us on earth, to all those days traveling (usually with at least one or two children) and living with other people constantly, to the long slow days spent in the heat and the ice building our home with our own two hands.

Despite what any marketing class or business principle might say, I've somehow shot dozens of weddings, and dozens of other sessions (and hosted a workshop!), while doing relatively no "promotional work."  Getting clients their images in a (mostly) timely manner is the most important, and after that, I simply haven't had more to give my business.  I blogged 27 times this year, and 28 times last year as opposed to 130 times in a year before.  My facebook page hasn't seen many more followers, my online hits have dropped (as is the case when sites are neglected), my e-mail isn't filled with inquiries, I have a blog but not a website.  Everything should be pointing to financial 'failure' and damaged business.

Yet, as always, things just kind of... fell into place. (Huge special thanks for the support and relationship with the folks at Strong Mansion.  More than half of the weddings were set there, with Twins + Violins playing music.  You'll recognize a certain set of steps very quickly ;) It's been great working together so often.) And such deeply beautiful clients have come my way, welcoming me into their holy days, and showing me the power of connection weekend after weekend.

Photographing a wedding has become a thing of healing for me.  Some days it was very, very hard to show up with my "game face" and be a sparkling professional woman.  Preparing my tools the night before, putting on make-up, doing my hair, sometimes pulling my bloody big-girl panties on (as I shot weddings one week after giving birth to Rowdy, and one week after miscarrying Ryan), sometimes crying or staring blankly in the car on my way too and from, sneaking off to empty my body of milk-filled pain, wearing a pretty outfit, feeling so strong and confident each time I finish, proud of my mind and body, grateful for my current ability and health, depositing checks in the bank and taking the money out to hang drywall or see the sea, letting myself get lost in the bliss of others, the weird and hard and thrilling work of creating, reviewing photographs, giving newlyweds the story of that day.  It is healing.  It is healing to be sensory -- to see, taste, touch, smell, hear -- when often I've had emptiness or "nothingness" this year.  It quickens me.  Being able to live, and move, and have my being, while working for, through and with God on these days of heaven-and-earth, keeps my eyes wide open when I can want to squish them shut.

I was often drawn to the middle-aged and turning-elderly women.  Sometimes it was the mother of the bride or groom, but other times it was just a group of guests or unruly aunts.  I watched them.  I watched them just be moms -- they worried, fussed, finagaled, cried, glowed, stared adoringly, got a little tipsy, kissed cheeks, choked on joy.  One dear mama carried down the aisle a photograph of she and her now-groom-then-toddler-son cut into a heart.  They fed me and, without a doubt, I would release that uncomfortable, nostalgic feeling with some tears.    One lovely friend told me my photographs were "a spiritual act."  Her sentiments blessed me.  Similar to the way that praying both honors God and brings me peace, photographing honors the stories of these people and brings me happy hope.

It is hard mental, emotional and physical work to be present and involved in the details.  I'm so honored that, again, someone, some people, trusted me to do that work.  And as all good hard work is, it is an actual joy to create for them.  Here is a (tough, tough, tough to narrow down) vault of the places I've been, flavors I've tasted, faces I've met, and souls I've linked hearts with this last year and a bit.  From Montreal to the eastern shore, from Texas to twenty-minutes down the road from home; the six-figure events and the four-figure events; the humid hot days and cold rainy days; the baby flower girls and the century-old grandparents; the mothers and the fathers; and everything in between.  Thank you, from the fragile places of this woman's heart.  The amount of intense (though sometimes teeny) human history I witnessed is nothing less than medicine.

ps. Thank you to my second-shooters this year: the spunky Ellie Be, winsome Hannah Nicole, and baby-daddy Caleb.

Tim + Ica | Jefferson Park Maryland Wedding

i've never been quite as happy as  i am. 
me & mr. cassidy - as happy as i am 

All seasons, not just the Christmas one, should have carols.   Those festive songs, made for jubilant connection and noisy celebration.  Her name was no mistake, she's a living carol - a human version of elated song.  Irene Carol has been dancing and prancing, laughing and quaking, feeling and giving since she was born.  Her twinkly almond eyes could inspire paintings, and her spontaneous, full-body, arched, boom laugh could be sold in bottles.  She'd make millions.   And when this songbird of a lady planned a wedding day, it could only have gone one way: marvelously.  Not just a nice spring day, but a perfect spring extravaganza.  Not just cute, but sensational.  Not just emotional, but unrestrained and ardent.  It was a day where all the birds were heard, all the smells were enjoyed, all the colors were vibrant and all the hearts swelled.

“...she had that something which fires the imagination, that could stop one's breath for a moment by a look or gesture that somehow revealed the meaning in common things. 

She had only to stand in the orchard, to put her hand on a little crab tree and look up at the apples, to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting at last. 

All the strong things of her heart came out in her body, that had been so tireless in serving generous emotions.   She was a rich mine of life, like the founders of early races.” (willa cather)

Ica, and her whimsical fashion-sense and chatty brain, met Tim on a blind date six years ago.  They were young munches.  And they played long and hard, and laughed even more than usual.  Tim goofed up on his great "pick-up line" and the chapter started, there was a beginning of "them."  The guitar-playing, energetic, prayer boy had to be with this girl, whose Facebook profile pictures were full of animal print, scrunched noses, confetti, sunsets, beach trips, so.many.friends and that iconic smile.








Their love is a tested one.  It nearly slipped between their fingers, and was gone forever.  But they fought.  And they waited.  And they chose respect and patience over every other strong emotion in their chests and heads and way into their toes and souls.  They could have said "Forget this!  We want to be together, and we WILL BE."  They could have pushed and forced.  But they trusted a Love bigger their own, and knew He was good - yes, very good.   Smiles had to be forced sometimes, and colors were muted, but there was joy.  And peace.  They prayed and wondered and hoped there would be a day - someday - in their future where they could marry.  Where they could be brought together, in one union, with one name.  Six years.  Six years. Happy singing!  It led them here:



The bay water wasn't thumping, and birds weren't chirping or rustling.  Blue skies - extra saturated - because, well, color is in their blood and souls.  A heated wind carefully puffed the hungry, crispy, long grass.  But it remained respectful and hushed.  It was as if nature understood the holiness of the moment, and tearily - with baited breath and grinning, smashed lips - was soaking in the moment itself. The distinct lack of white noise was perfect.  Just the clip-clop of Ica's t-straps, the deep, deep sighs coming from either end of the path and an occasional squeak and sniff from the bride.


And then...





... comedic timing took over ;)  The grass snarled with Ica's veil and she broke the eerie silence with roars and "Of COURSE"'s and gasps as she tried to catch her breath.  Tim was dying to turn his back and rush to her.  He swayed and joined in her laughter, even though he didn't know what was happening.  I paused taking pictures for a moment to enter into the scene and untangle the tulle.  She eventually continued on her way, laughing and shaking her head at herself.  It couldn't have been greater.










The jesting and frivolity that easily bonded them, and the strength and depth, that proved to keep them, was all wrapped into that those few minutes.  Like a trailer of their entire relationship.  They prayed and partied.  It was the single best first look I've ever witnessed.

I couldn't stand it if you kids were inconsiderate, or thought of her as if she were just somebody who looked after you.

You see I was very much in love with your mother, and I know there's nobody like her...”  (willa cather)

Before the wedding Becca predicted that there would be "lots of tears - in a good way."  After the wedding Lydia and I agreed that it was one of, if not THE most, teary ceremonies we'd ever been to.  During Tim's vows even the groomsmen were losing it.   They prayed together at their first look, prayed together during their ceremony, and ran down the aisle, with cheers and hoorays!, to a quiet moment behind the barn so they could pray.   But don't think so much spiritual discipline in action meant for blah or overly-somber.  Oh no.















This wedding was as vivacious and passionate as weddings get - and it don't hurt that they have spicy, bright, outspoken, sassy friends ;)






































Though I love to write, and am convinced that beautiful writing can enhance a visual story, I sometimes think my words will only hinder the intensity and happy the couple themselves declare.  Maybe that's my creative way of saying: I just don't have words to explain the hope and delight and celebration I saw in the eyes and faces of this new husband and wife.  You'll just have to go back and look at them again.  If you can't see it - if you don't see what I see - then I probably couldn't describe it any better.  But in a word, they were in bliss.



























































Mr. and Mrs. Remo, you're near to my heart and this wedding was the answer to truly thousands of prayers.  How sweet it is to experience these days of life?  The "yes's!" from God!  The feasting and the beautiful days!  The "heaven" days - the ones who anticipate and look forward to and await quite eagerly.  You're incredible and will not be leaving this earth unmarked or unloved.  It was a good thing that the Lord brought a Living Carol and a Excited Schoolteacher together... go enjoy singing your life song <3>

ps. I shot this wedding seven months pregnant - which I'm pretty proud about - but I'd be a jerk to not thank Ellie for second-shooting, Lydia for keeping me fed, and Caleb Husband Love Dude Man for doing just about everything else (driving, bag-carrying, battery hunting, and foot-and-ankle-rubbing for the next three days.)

New Blog Design + Giveaway 2013

"toto,

i have a feeling we're not in kansas anymore."

dorothy - wizard of oz

I once read about a study done to test human "follow" patterns and herd mentality.  There was a test subject put in a room with 19 people.  The test subject was under the impression that these 19 folks were other testers, but in reality they were "in" on the experiment.  They all did a brief written test, then they had some group projects to do.  A simple math problem was put up on a board (something like 63 + 24).  As the group discussed, they all instantly agreed the answer to the problem was 97.  The one tester was quiet and hesitant.  He counted on his fingers.  But in the end, he just said what everyone else did.  "Yeah, 97."  You've probably seen those youtube pranks where a large group of people will turn a corner and come running and screaming down the alley.  Often the clueless passerby will join in and run with them!  Why run? I DON'T KNOW! BUT EVERYONE ELSE IS! NINETY SEEEEVEN!!!

Launching a new blog design at the beginning of the year feels a little flock like to me (I'm obviously rounding up the group in the back).  Winter, after holidays, is obviously the most practical time for a primarily spring to fall photographer to get other business tasks done.  Last winter I was set ablaze thanks to Alt Summit and I decided to re-do my blog and start writing out my love story.  I also instituted the Enjoy Project.  I wanted to start taking the gradual turn into expanding my vision for this blog, as well as my vision for my career and daily life.  I was single, renting a room with my friends and on the verge of so many bigs.

One year later,  I'm a wife who shares a happy apartment with a stud-muffin.  I'm a mother, who shares her body with a little son.  I'm writing more, cooking more (well, I was cooking more... now I'm eating more. haha.), I'm taking steps to figure out how to actually turn a blog series into a real book.  We're taking our hard-earned cash to Oklahoma to finish building our house.  We're talking often about that soup & sandwich shop we want to open someday.  I'm taking fewer weddings, and more "other shoots."  I realize that I love wedding photography, but I don't love a lot of wedding photography.  I hope to shoot weddings until my hips break, but I find myself far more interested, inspired and emotional when my shoots vary - from promotional shoots, maternity shoots, documentary style shooting, portraits, babies, weddings, home life.  This goes against what I had been taught.  "Don't try to be average at a lot of things!  Focus on ONE thing! Specialize in one area!"  For some people, that is probably great advice.  But for me, I need the variety.  I do better in all areas when every week has brand new events.  Maybe that is why I loved sports?  You practice and practice, but have no idea what to expect come game time.  A music recital isn't like that.  You practice and practice and practice your piece... and then... you play... that same piece!  Just like you practiced! (hopefully.)



All of that to say, I needed a site that could keep up with my varied interests and pursuits.  A place that looked like, you know, a grown woman's site.  It was time.  97! ;)  The dear, talented Hannah Nicole took over my giant dream.  She is the one to thank for the new branding and design.  Please sing her praises and love her a lot.   Hannah, you're absolutely one-of-a-kind and dazzling.

But WHAT is a new design, without a giveaway?  Come on!  That's the way to share the love!  One lucky man, woman or child is going to be the proud and delighted owner of these four gifts:

$100 Southwest GiftCard
$100 Etsy GiftCard
Smitten Kitchen Cookbook
Soft Leather Journal 

You pretty people have ONE week to enter!  Next Monday the winner will be announced!  Cheers throughout the land!  Let the dancing in the streets begin!  (And you all better hope I don't keep these for myself.  I all of these prizes for myself.  Especially the cookbook.  How well do you trust my character... muhahah? ;)

Six Stupendous Social (like an ice cream club!) Ways To Win The Prizes!

Tweet about it: follow me on twitter + then retweet my giveaway tweet to your pack of wolves! (make sure my handle is included so I see that you did it!)
Instagram about it: Screen-cap the new blog design or giveaway list, and let the photographers of the land know about the giveaway (make sure you mention me... and if you're instagram is private, follow me and leave me comment on my photo so I see your entry!)
Pin it: Re-pin the giveaway list and tag me in a comment!
Blog it: Feel free to steal my giveaway list jpeg and post it on your own blog, linking back to my blog.
Facebook like and share it: Like my page on Facebook! And then share

*Comment [required]: And tell me what you'd do with your winnings! (Where would you like to fly off to with your Southwest giftcard, or what you have your eye on over at Etsy?  Who do you want to wine and dine?  Any fun reasons to have a new journal?) (you can also comment separately and let me know how else you entered, if you want to be sure I see it!  I'll be keeping a tally system with each name, but I know how it is.  If you're going to do all the hard work, you want to be positive it is getting you a shot at the paaah-riiizze!)

Alright!  I'm... happy.  This is fun.  I hope you enjoy it all!

Donovan House | Wedding Mixer

"i've just always liked hotels. 

i like the bed and the sheets and everything that comes along with it."

d.b.

After I posted some shots of our impressive Kimpton honeymoon hotel, The Donovan House, Nick Sowle from Donovan House got in touch with me about using some pictures.  We started a nice little dialogue over email and I ended up getting invited to a small brunch for wedding vendors + Kimpton Hotel staff.   We sipped mimosa's, took advantage of FREE manicures and even had a massage on the pool deck.  NOT a bad monday morning.   They even gave away three nights for free.  I didn't win the raffle though.  So not cool.  ;)

Donovan House, as always, you were a gentleman and a scholar, and as charming as ever.

Nick, Holland (from Hotel Rouge), Chris (Kimpton DC catering director), Marc (the masseuse) and Bernie (the darling manicurist) - thank you for showing us a good time and giving us the epitome of "Kimpton experience."  Kimpton or bust!

(ps.  Kimptons are all over the country!  You should try to visit one on the double.  And brides, need a ballroom/getting-ready-room/location-to-take-photos?  You know where I'm sending you.  To a Kimpton.)

Ten Words | Flashback to 2007 | Enjoy Project

Lesson: Shipwrecked:

Ship Sailed:




Cannot win them all.  Sail anyway. 

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 8

we cut through the lowlands

all hands through the salt lands

change of time - josh ritter

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

Yes.  Caleb was in the air, flying from Tennessee to Tampa, to spend Christmas with me.  I'll tell you what I didn't know then: how did that happen?!

It had been about ten days since I called and told him that we couldn't talk anymore.  He had found a mustard yellow scarf that I accidentally left behind on my trip and he carried it around with him.  He missed me.  He was flattened.  Deflated.  And decided.  He didn't fully understand why I couldn't (or wouldn't) talk with him anymore.   Caleb chose to continue talking with my dad - a couple phone calls and texts throughout the week.   My dad was excessively impressed with this boy, but he also understood my conflicted heart.  

As the days went on, and Caleb's favorite holiday in history, Christmas, approached, he felt less than holly jolly.  With plans to spend time with friends in Kentucky for Christmas, the Morris family packed up and headed out on December 23.  Caleb spend most of the 15-hour drive scrolling through Facebook looking at pictures of a girl he couldn't talk to, sleeping and texting a dad in Florida.

Caleb thought about how badly he wanted to be in Tampa, not in Kentucky.  He thought about how great it would be to see that "city girl" and meet her family.  The thing about Caleb is that when he sets his mind to something, he can't be derailed.  And all of a sudden these hopes and "I wish"s were turning into "This might work…"s and "I might try!"s.  After arriving to Kentucky in the wee hours of the morning, Caleb helped the family unpack and unload, and fell asleep after his restless night.  When he woke up a few hours later, he was jazzed.   All it took to push him off the edge was a half-joke half-dare from my dad over text: "We have an extra seat at the dinner table…" Caleb called him.   "Can I come? I want to come."  

My dad loves the chase, the story, the good guy and the suspense more than Nicholas Sparks.  He welcomed Caleb.  The Kentucky house turned into a scene from The Amazing Race.  Everyone was searching for flights on Christmas Eve.  The flights were astronomically expensive.  It flurried inside, instead of outside.  The Morris family and their friends searched any and all websites they could think of, on any and all devices that could get signal.  Someone finally came up with the idea of driving the 2.5 hours to Nashville, because the Nashville flights were radically less expensive.  Done.  They found a flight that had Caleb landing in Florida around 10:00 pm.  

A car full of family and friends escorted the Excited Desperado to his twilight flight where he'd be whisked away to surprise the girl on his mind and heart.  He'd never flown on a plane before.  He'd never traveled anywhere alone before.  He'd certainly never pursued a girl like this before! And he didn't really think much about what would happen when he arrived.  He just went.

His mom snapped a picture of lackluster Caleb at home with his little sister, yellow scarf in hand.

So there I was, standing next to a pot of beans, tomatoes and meat, with all eyes on me.  Caleb was in the sky with Santa Claus.  When I read the text I felt extremely, completely and overwhelmingly… nothing.  I went blank.  "I need to take a shower.  Wait, right now? He's coming right now? I need to take a shower.  But now? He… this is now?"  My poor mom wasn't sure what to think - mom's have always been more sensitive to emotions.  In slow motion I walked to the bathroom and turned on the hot water.  I had the wherewithal to text my best friends back home. "So, Caleb is coming for Christmas?"  My phone exploded.  I didn't have the brain or the words to answer their questions.  

While I showered, fears started to wiggle back in.  I started to "feel" and I felt afraid.  "I don't want to hurt anybody.  I'm not sure quite how I feel about him.  I'm nervous.  He's coming to meet my family and I've only talked to him three times on the phone!"  God truly interrupted my thought process in one of those unforgettable moments.  "Just pray."  I prayed and prayed and prayed.  Like the water running down my head, peace ran down my heart.  I left the bathroom with a calmed and even delighted heart.  A complete transformation from when I entered.  "This just might be a little bit fun!"  Peace and courage, peace and courage, peace and courage.  They cycled over again and again.

My dad and I talked as we drove to the airport.  The drive was only about 20 minutes.  I don't remember what exactly we talked about, but I know we joked and that I felt carefree.  Years ago my dad made me a promise: "Kristen, I will never ruin anything that is good for you."  My dad reminded me that this guy was a good guy, and that I needed to have fun and not over think the situation.  We pulled up to the "Arrivals" lane and my dad let me out so I could greet Caleb alone.  As part of my Christmas surprise, Caleb had my yellow scarf sent back to me, so I decided to wear it to the airport.  I sat at the bottom of the staircase, watching the TV screens.  I went to the bathroom to re-fluff my hairs.  I went back to the screens.  I un-tucked my shirt. I un-zipped my jacket.  I re-tucked my shirt.  Re-zipped my jacket.  I tried to tie my scarf a couple of different ways.  I put chapstick on.  Cherry! Mmm.  I went back to the stairs and screens.  Oh my feet.  His plane has landed.  Oh my.  Cue butterflies.  I truly remember for the first time in my life wishing I had a paper bag to breathe into.  It was a hands on the seat, arms straight, deep breaths, close your eyes, hold very very still few minutes.  

Passengers filled the staircase.  I watched behind a pillar for a skinny blonde.  The first wave of folks died down.  Another wave erupted and I waited some more.  No sign of the Caleb Dude.  After a third go-round I spotted him, but he didn't see me.  My did he look precious.  He had a small, in my opinion feminine, tote bag.  He seemed a little frantic.  He was just as long and lanky as I remembered.  I snuck to the bottom of the escalator he was riding down and just stood there.  He looked at me a couple of times but completely didn't "see" me.  When he made it to the end we finally made eye contact and he almost fell over he was so shocked!  I guess my dad thought it would be a fun surprise to not tell Caleb I was coming to the airport!

And there we were.  In person.  In Florida.  For Christmas.  With a yellow scarf.  Many emotions. And no clue.  

Our "hello!" was as strange as you might imagine, but also deeply sincere and memorable.  You'll remember that we hadn't said a single word to each other since "I can't talk to you anymore" and now we were standing beside each other on Christmas Eve.   The obvious and only first questions were asked "How was your flight?" "Not too bad!  Not bad at all. How is your family?" "They're great! Yeah, great.  Yours?" "Oh, good.  Just… recovering from the long drive." "For sure." "Yeah."

We also quickly side-hugged.  Side-patted?  It was something I would tweet about if I saw it happen.  Just…awfully silly and stiff.  We made our way, with pleather lady bag in tow, to my dad's car.  Caleb was wide-eyed.  He seemed exhausted.  As excited and eager as he was to come, I think it was starting to hit him "Now what?"  

We chit-chatted and got updates as we drove back home.  Caleb very formally and professionally introduced himself to my family.  He looked everyone straight in the eye and used his full-name.  "Hello, I'm Caleb Morris.  It's nice to meet you." *shake shake.*  He sat on the couch like he was sitting on a cactus - upright and light.  It was late and the children had important sugar plum dreams to worry about, so they all jumbled to their beds.  

Little did I know that he'd be in my house just a few days later!

Caleb watched and helped me wrap my last presents.  He was appalled at my scattered wrapping technique.  "I'm a perfectionist.  I would never wrap anything like that."  I laughed.  "Well, I just might drive you off a cliff.  I'm far from a perfectionist.  I'm… a free spirit! Like a modern day Pocahontas."  He didn't exactly laugh.  

I can't remember what else we talked about that night, but we soon went to sleep.  The next morning was a happy buzz of sausage smells, children, colors and enthusiasm.  Bless his heart, Caleb sat on the couch next to me and didn't say much.  He watched, stared and responded politely when spoken to.  In the meantime, my brothers and sisters were jumping on each other.  My dad was making jokes about sports and Seinfeld.  Grandma told him he was fat.  Someone was talking about "passing gas."  We ganged up on Kevin.  Shannon screamed.  Dad yelled "NUEMAN!" Mom apologized to Caleb.  Dude ran off to play his new video games.  I was wearing shorts.  Timmy laughed about how skinny Caleb was.  "I walked into the room and didn't even see him on the couch!" We joined in.  Then we made fun of Timmy for stealing Dad's clothes.  Katie took pictures of everything.  Lauren stepped on someone's foot.  Someone spilled water.  Someone else's stocking was missing.  Aunt Pam and Mom gave Caleb a stocking they had filled for him so he would have something to open on Christmas.  Caleb gave me a brand new, bright white, beautiful North Face jacket.  I patted him.  Dad started cleaning up all the wrapping paper.  Mom called from the kitchen to make sure he didn't throw away an instruction manuals.  Dad called the kids to get all their stuff or else it might get thrown away.  Grandma disappeared with her gifts before the kids could break them.  

Our first "real" picture together. Yikes.

My eyes were eNORmous. WHAT did he just say?!?! Not that I'm a prude or easily offended, but I'm he had NEVER said ANYthing like that before, and this was certainly not an appropriate time to be asking such a question.  Besides, I didn't even know what he meant?! "I'm sorry… What did you say?"  Caleb repeated "Do y'all use safe sex?"  I looked over at my mom.  Was I hearing this right? Is he about to go into this right here, right now, in the middle of family Christmas, with children all around? My mom was BRIGHT red, rolling in her wooden chair, with her hand over her mouth.  "I know what you think he said! AAAh! HAhahah!"  Well, yes, I know what I think he said, too.  And I'm fantastically confused.  Caleb had no idea what I thought he said.  And I had no idea what he really said!  And mom was laughing too hard to be of any help to either of us!  "Sacks! Do we save sacks! Ah! HAhahahaha!"  Caleb turned back to me "Yes, do y'alls save sacks?"

Then I let loose with my giggling.  Caleb still didn't know what was so funny. His ears were turning redder by the moment.  When we calmed down enough to explain it to him, he become sickly white.  I thought he was going to faint.  Poor little Christian boy.  Just trying to help.  He couldn't stop repeating over and over and over that that is not what he said.  "Sacks! Like bags!  I said 'sacks!' I promise! Sacks!"  I know, Caleb, I know.  Don't worry.  It's perfectly fine.  Just not what we were expecting.  

I loved how innocent he was.  I wondered if he knew how rare that quality was in a 20-something man.  The rest of the trip was lovely.  We took the little kids to the playground one afternoon.  It was the first moment on the entire trip where I felt like I saw the real Caleb.  We split up into teams and played tag.  A few kids wandered up and watched us play.  You know how little children are when they are shy?  We asked them if they wanted to play and they said no, but clearly they were dying to join in the fun.  Caleb finally stopped and told them "You can be on my team."  He ran them through the rules.  "Base is on the slide, you can't touch the mulch, jail is on the picnic bench." He was bent over with his hands on his knees and the little boys still had to look up to meet his eyes.  They nodded their little buzzed heads and scampered off.  Caleb counted really, really loud to let everyone know that time-out was over.  And the playground was released to be crazy once again.  Kids ran, Caleb jumped and chased, I played but mostly watched Caleb.  It was a wonderful hour or so.  We also went to Busch Gardens together (last time I had gone my dad interrupted his lunch to talk to Caleb on the phone!).  The little kids loved competing over who would get to sit next to Caleb on the roller-coasters.  He so easily, patiently and happily payed attention to them.  He didn't make snide remarks about them behind their backs, he didn't try to shuttle ourselves away from them to get a break, he didn't ever snap or respond harshly to them.  Instead, he joined in their theme-park pleasure and bet one of my brothers "a big chicken basket" if he could ride a huge coaster with his hands up the whole time.  

I've always always always always loved this moment.  I'm so glad I took a picture of it.  But even if I hadn't, I would have never forgotten it.

For every abnormally impressive quality of Caleb's, I had a somewhat odd concern.  He really struggled to have long conversations in person.  He also sounded like a script.  I'd tease him and tell him that I knew there was more he was thinking than what he was saying.  If I'd ask him a question he would sit quietly and think for a long time (sometimes minutes) before he would answer.  He truly looked like a deer in headlights, or like a toddler caught red-handed, but he wasn't in danger! Or in trouble!  I kept wanting him to relax and "open up" (to use a term from The Bachelorette.)  Despite his trepidation and strangeness, we still spent our nights talking late into the night… just at a much, much slower pace than I was used to.  

What I didn't know was that he was hounded internally with questions.  Questions about me - the way I acted, what I listened to, what I joked about, the loud-crazy-ness of my family.  Questions about his own convictions, questions about facts versus feelings, questions about what he was supposed to, questions about God's will and how he was supposed to know it.  Questions about Taylor Swift.  Questions about social skills, sense of humor and personality.  Questions about different beliefs, opinions and what is "right."  My family was so different from his own, yet welcomed him like a brother.  I was so bold and forthright, and he felt so trapped and unsure (when it came to worldview and conviction.  Because he felt bold and forthright about his interest in me, while I felt quite unsure.)  

I remember sitting in our living room on the last night of his trip watching him work through a thought he was trying to explain to me and I thought "There are things about this man that no human has ever known.  He doesn't even know.  He isn't hiding anything. He's figuring out everything. And nothing would go against his safe, nervous, calculated decision making process than abruptly jumping on a plane to chase after a girl that he isn't *sure* he's supposed to marry.  This is huge for him.  And he's trying. He's trying so hard.  I want to know what is going on in there. I want to know what he's feeling and thinking.  I wish I could understand. I want to know him."

This picture describes our relationship at the time very well: cute, stiff and a little blurry ;)

We were drawn to each other, despite what would seem like weird "chemistry" or "connection."  It wasn't effortless and lingering and flawless witty banter followed by deep, heart-pouring.  We had to be very patient with each other.  We both really weren't sure what was going on.  But we both had that "something," "whatever it is" (Zac Brown Band anyone?) that kept us fascinated.  And we also were fiercely committed to family being central, critical and blissful in our current and future lives.  We loved to talk to each other about our families, our dreams for our future families, our best memories with our families, our lessons we've learned from families, and so on.  It was our strongest point of compatibility ;)

That final night we talked until I fell asleep.  He snapped a picture, tucked me in and went to his bed for a couple hours.  We woke up at about 4:30 am to make my 6:50 am flight.   He smelled like cream cheese and hair gel.  I  looked like cream cheese and hair gel (white and pasty?).  We both smashed our possessions into luggage.  While it was still dark we silently and sleepily rode to the airport.  I said good-bye to my parents.  He shook hands.  

As we checked in for our different flights (me back to Maryland, he back to Oklahoma) I bragged to him about my many, many travels.  "Oh yeah, I was first on an airplane when I was six months old.  I've been flying ever since. I fly allllll the time.  I know all about airports.  Here, let me help you."  He tried to make fun of me and my pride, but I bulldozed right over him.  "You'll pick it up pretty quick as you start to travel more.  It's super easy."  He just smiled quietly and nodded his head.  He hadn't learned to fight back with me yet ;)  

We took our boarding passes and idly walked to security.  Once there I knew just what to do.  Shoes off, laptop out, jacket off, in the boxes, carry on up! Boom!  Caleb fiddled and looked around and asked questions and had too many grey boxes.  "What do I need to take out? Do I have to take my belt off?"  I zipped around like an arrogant bumble bee showing him how it was done.  

As his bag went through the conveyer belt I noticed the officer call for a bag check.  Oh dear.  They took Caleb over into the corner and waved a wand up and down him, then patted him down.  His dear eyes looked worried, and he was genuinely confused, but so genuinely wanted to be helpful and honest.  Oh dear dear man.  The officer pulled out a pocket-knife (one of Caleb's stocking stuffers.)  Caleb sadly had to have it thrown away ("But Mikey gave it to me!  I love it!").  Once we were free to go, and re-assembled we charged to my gate.  I was the first flight of the day and there was no plane at Gate C21 yet.  We settled into two side-by-side chairs and reflected on the weekend.  We measured our hands to each others (obviously without touching them even slightly!!!) I asked him if he had more pocket knives in his sack.  He glared at me and said he'd dump a bucket of chicken on my head.  I occasionally would check back to see if my plane had pulled up yet (it hadn't) so we continued on, lost in conversation (for the first time on the whole trip.)  I was starting to dread this whole good-bye thing.  We were getting into a groove!  This was wonderful!  He's wonderful! I like what's happening! How are we going to leave each other?  He doesn't hug me… or touch me… or anything.  He doesn't even say 'I like you.'  This will be special.

"Hey, did you just hear your name?"  I stopped talking.  "That sounded like 'Kristen Snyder.'" I listened but didn't hear anything at all.  "No? I don't think so?"  We decided Caleb had been hearing things.  I decided to use the restroom.  I walked down the terminal while Caleb waited with my things.  I felt airy and lovely and light.  Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror.  Wow.  I looked like spinach with mold on it.  Ragged and bumpy?  I easily found an empty stall, entered it and locked the latch.  

Waiting for that plane to come up on the left ;) Just a waiting and a waiting.... ;)

"Well, young lady, you got here with seconds to spare."  A droplet of sweat slid behind my ear as I handed her my boarding pass.  I looked back and saw Caleb still running.  She scanned the paper and opened the door for me to enter the plane. "Hurry, hurry… everyone is waiting on you, Miss Snyder!" I walked into the walkway and looked back one last time.  Caleb had finally caught up.  I waved good-bye.  He stood there and stared.  "Hurry, Miss Snyder!"  The door closed.  And our trip was officially over.  Without so much as a word.

(to be continued...)

Enjoy Project | Children's Books + Front Royal

"Good night, little girls!Thank the Lord you are well!And now go to sleep!"Said Miss Clavel.  Ludwig Bemelmans - Madeline

"We'll end up hand in hand, somewhere down on the sand, just me and you."  

"We'll drive until the city lights, dissolve into a country sky, just me and you."

For Memorial Saturday we drove over to the Blue Ridge Mountains.  The Skyline Drive starts in Front Royal, Virginia at the Shenandoah National Park.  Caleb smelled good.  He wore his new H&M shirt.

The roads were winding.  The trees were green.  Me and you.

Oh, it was "almost Heaven." We love "West Virginia, Blue Ridge Mountains,  Shenandoah River." "Life is old there, older than the trees!" Older than you and me. 

We have many nicknames.  I call him Slim Jim, Cowboy, Corn Cob, Short Stack, Mister Mister, Cockatoo, Morrison, Lone Ranger, Stallion (and sometimes Mare... but I'm just teasing.)  He calls me Little, Silly Woman, Rose of Sharon (also teasing),  Red Robin, Sweet Elizabeth Jane, Baby Doll, You. 

Sometimes I call him Country Roads.  Sometimes he calls me Mountain Mama.  We don't have a lot of money.  And I'm afraid of mice.

(free - zac brown band // country roads - john denver)

Enjoy Project | Making Things | Memories + Food + Books

"we ate well and cheaply, 
and drank well and cheaply,
... and loved each other."
ernest hemingway | a moveable feast    
(I think I need this for our new "married" house, come August.  It's exactly what I hope our marriage will be.)

For our one year anniversary last month I finally became an official girlfriend/fiance'.  I made a memory book. Everyone knows that the sign of true love is a memory book.  And homemade gift certificates (for things like back rubs, long hugs, homemade meals and "one-watch-whatever-movie-you-want!")  But we did gift certificates aaaaaages ago.  One Year of Together seemed liked the perfect time for this book!

The cover was all cool and trendy and modern and "whoa" with our first yellow-pink plastic spoon combo.  The first time we got frozen yogurt we used these spoons.  It's tradition now! 

Then I had to do a collage.  Because.  Doing 213 of them in middle school just wasn't enough.  

This page is from December 2010! How has it gone so quickly?

I can't wait to tell this part of the story...

And this part of the story!

I can't wait to use this idea again!  Wrapping presents in pages from travel magazines? Uuuh, so fun.

CalebCaleb loved it.  Now we can really get married ;)

The next three pictures are just for the joy of food.  Go make Smitten Kitchen's Roasted Buttermilk Chicken.  And then eat it on your deck.  Or sidewalk.  Or roof.  Or at least near a window.  It's the good life.

Last month I made mini-cheesecakes.  I asked Caleb to put the berries on top.  I was expecting maybe a strawberry on one, three black berries on another, something like that?  Or art.  My little Cheescake Angel.  Bless his heart.

Lastly, a sweet lady named Lori e-mailed a picture of her gorgeous daughter with the cinnamon pull-apart bread I made in March.  (Remember how neat and orderly I was?)  Lori's e-mail made my day!  And I couldn't help but show you all, too!

So I guess this post can really be all tied together with the above pin: "We ate well and cheaply, and drank well and cheaply... and loved each other." Such a good life.  

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. 

Copious Project | Behind The Scenes

"when you're curious,
you find lots of interesting things to do."
walt disney 
The world is a fun little place.  At Alt Summit I met a fascinating and bright woman named Shayna Kulik.  I started following her on twitter.  Around the beloved spring-cleaning time of year she posed a question on her twitter: "Should I sell my clothes on ebay or Copious?"  I did not know of this "Copious."  The moment I went to the website I knew I was hooked.  In the next 24 hours or so I had created an account with this new "social marketplace."  I blogged about it.  No one commented.  No one.  But people clicked on my store.  You all clicked enough that my little blog was bringing in the hits for Copious - at least enough for their stats-guy to notice.  
Kaitlyn Barclay, the community marketing manager, got in touch with me to be a part of the "Copious Closet."  That e-mail turned into a conversation about Copious, a few ideas I had for them and a mini brain-storm sesh.  Within days we had a Skype meeting.  A few more days and there was a trip planned.  In a matter of days Kaitlyn pulled together a full-day campaign ad shoot for Copious.  Designers, stylists, hair and make-up crew, models and a photographer from Maryland gathered together in San Francisco, just a short walk from Instagram's original studio and AT&T Park.  Curiosity and a few connections led to an incredible experience for me.  These women (and men!) are passionate, giving and motivated.  And just truly very, very kind people.  It was certainly a career highlight to be a part of this shoot!
I can't wait to reveal images from the shoot, but for now I thought it'd be fun to show you a few behind the scenes shots.  Enjoy!  And please do check out Copious... that's how this all started after all!  So, thanks everyone!  

Moral of the story?  Don't be down if your post doesn't get comments.  It just might end up being your most important post of your year! ;)


Copious Community Marketing Manager: Kaitlyn Barclay

Models: Krista Gambrel, Cara Cutter, Carole Morey and Nkechi Njaka. Stylist: Lexie TiongsonDesigner: Michael Oh + Ariel SimoneHair + Make-up: Lara Olivia + Bailey Photography: I'm KristenEdited With: VSCO FilmMy Copious Store