Red Dirt Life | Personal

"and drivin' down the road
i get a feeling that i should have
been home yesterday, yesterday"
country roads - john denver

On the border of Logan and Lincoln County, forming the third point of a triangle with Meridian and Shiloh, is the forgettable "town" of Merrick.  The roads here are all numbered, not named.  780.  3300. 800.  105.  As orderly as geometry graph paper, the lines of the red dirt go straight, in both directions, for more miles than you could drive in a day.  Likewise for the cross roads.   God help the soul who gets lost out here (and don't worry, God does, through His friendly and blessed people who call these paths "home.")   The only memorable town trophy is the old school house.  It's been closed for decades, but the former students who live nearby (all grannies and granddads now) have a monthly town dance in the empty, square building.   If you happened upon the right lumpy lane, and knew where to stop, you'd see these trees:

These trees look like the rest of the trees lining sunburned roads in Merrick (and Meridian and Shiloh and Frost and...).  But these trees our our trees.   Almost three years ago, long before he met me, my husband bought 25 acres of trees.  At one point the path through them had been cleared out, but spending almost two years in Maryland gave the grass and reeds ample time to reclaim their territory.  Behind these trees, about a quarter mile straight in, is the beginning of our house.   There is a concrete footing and foundation, as well as concrete exterior walls (I was there for that stage), with cut-outs for the windows and doors.  In a couple weeks, we're headed to Meridian, and we'll be passing the old school, and we'll pull up to these trees.  During our month long stay, we'll trample down most of that helpless but persistent greenery on the ground.   We've been saving for over a year - counting pennies, not taking trips we could have taken, waiting - and now it's time to put a roof on the house.   Caleb will spend 10-16 hours a day, nearly everyday, making this roof become real and not a drawing.  Early mornings, late nights, sweet rest, unexpected costs and satisfying progress are sure to be our story.

This was never how I imagined my first year of marriage.

No, I wasn't exactly a Red Dirt Bride in my mind.  Before I met Caleb, I imagined staying in my outskirts-of-DC-location for a few years, and then maybe moving somewhere quaint down south.  South Carolina was the location of choice.  Beach, class, lower cost, East Coast (near route 95 and all the beloved cities who live up and down it - from Boston, New York, Philadelphia, DC, Charlotte, Charleston and on).  Close enough to not drastically change my photography clientele, but far enough away to change my world.  Close enough to spend long weekends with my family, but far enough to miss my birth city.  I also dreamed of quick California fixes.  The California coast is my favorite and best place in the whole world (well, that I've had the honor of experiencing so far.)  My mother and her family is from and still near and around California.  I have friends - so many friends - out there.  When I was still younger than 10, we moved out to San Diego for a year and a half.  It was the longest vacation I've ever taken.  I'm a summer girl, who craves a beach and tacos and fashion and a dry heat world.  I imagined that.



But I met a red dirt man.

"... somebody with arms strong enough to rustle a calf and yet gentle enough to cradle his own grandchild... somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait lunch until his wife’s done feeding visiting ladies and tell the ladies to 'be sure and come back real soon' — and mean it... Somebody who’d bale a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh and then sigh, and then reply, with smiling eyes, when his son says he wants to spend his life ‘doing what dad does.'"

He dreams of carrying on the family business he and his father and brothers began years ago.  He bounces in his seat, and gets flushed when he explains to me the plans for his, er, our, home.  We often nestle into bed and begin using our hands to "draw" a new idea we have.  Usually this turns into lights popping back on, and someone googling or doodling to "see" the idea better.  I made a few changes to his original plans - a woman's touch.  The kitchen has been moved and there are far more bedrooms now.  He's talked me into some ideas I didn't love initially (*ahem* stone, turrets *ahem*) and I've gotten him quite excited about acrylic chairs, glass and crystal, and bright and white over dark and "cabin-y."  Dark wood floors, wood-beamed ceiling and a white-exterior with black accents have been our chocolate fondue melting pot. 

So we begin.  Living this life as "one," a Hollywood half-blood crossed with country wind and grit.  There is more preppy in him than he was aware of, and I've discovered there is more small-town in my heart than I had ever understood.  Our neighbor across the way, for example, plants two gardens every year: one inside his fence for he and his family, one on the outside of his fence, by the side of the road, for anyone nearby or passing-by who needs an onion or potato.   Every year.  Just to be kind.  Yes, there is room - much room - my heart for living life with people like him.  Caleb's favorite shoes are either his Cantor Low Ralph Lauren canvas sneakers, or his classic brown Sperry Top-Siders.

I love being changed, and watching someone else change, and yet somehow still retaining ourselves in the process.  I love being a Red Dirt Bride.  It's better than I imagined.

---

Our road-trip to build the roof starts the first weekend in March.  We'll be cruising through country in my little white Corolla, and we'll live in Guthrie (the latest stop for the Mumford&Sons tour! What what!  "The biggest thing to happen to Guthrie since The Land Run.")

I'd love to meet new friends in the surrounding area.  E-mail or get in touch somehow if you're available to chat and hang-out during the month of March.   We can mingle at Hoboken!  Or if you'd like a photoshoot of some sort - I'm available for a few sessions :)  

Copious | San Francisco Photography

co·pi·ous: fullness, plentiful, rich

"i'm very used to playing 'the tomboy' or 'the sarcastic cynic.' that's my go-to. playing 'the vulnerable of a real girl that's in real womanlike situations'? where it's romanticized? i'm a little nervous about that."kristen bell

Copious is for the people.  A friendly marketplace on the streets of www dot lane.  A familiar place, where you can buy and sell beautiful clothing and art, where you can make friends along the way.  Pinterest and Facebook and eBay and a lookbook all lumpshed into one.  "You are not alone!"  It's the place where you pass by, and look into a strangers eye's and say "Good morning!" instead of avoiding human interaction.  It's where artists can sell their thread creations, where Spring Clean can mean a few extra spending dollars, where your same-ol' same-ol' becomes somebody else's brand new inspiration.  It's where stories are told about clothes, and why people care about what they wear. For this shoot, Copious pulled from it's closet.  They wanted to represent a group of girls, not necessarily from a specific city but from any place.  Miami?  Seattle?  Dallas?  New York? San Francisco?  A hard-working girl, a girl making her way in life, on a budget, but ready to impress.  Social, sharp and beautiful.  Walking out the door for lunch with her girls before the big presentation at the office.  Enjoying life, in her "brand new" Copious outfit - that fits her body, her personality and her flair. 

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!

The Shape of Life | Strong Mansion Portraits

"he was trying to show me the shape of his life, 
and what might become the shape of it."
wendell berry

"He was seeing the time to come as a possibility, and as a life that he loved.  And though maybe neither of us fully understood it, he made me love it.  It wasn't as though I was being swept away by some irresistible emotion. 
It was just... the thought of resistance never entered my mind.  When I imagined him entering the life he saw, I imagined myself entering it too.  It was a possibility that belonged to both of us.
It is entirely clear to me now.  We were coming together into the presence of something good that was possible in this world.  And it just seemed that, as we waited together for the coming of this life, it had become wrong to sit apart." Wendell Berry, from Hannah Coulter









Happy Monday!

Gender Reveal | Meet Our Baby!

"what He desires, that He does.
for He will complete what He appoints for me,
and many such things are in His mind."

job 23

My striking and courtly grandmother was the first and only child in her family.   After she married my tall, brainy grandfather she had a son, but he died suddenly at 10 days old.  Shortly after, she was pregnant again.  My mother was born, and was the living eldest in her family of six.  Three girls and one boy and two parents.  Though my mother was sure I was a boy (and my nickname was "Baby Moses"), she delightfully found out her first child was a daughter.

My childhood was spent far more in imaginary settings than in reality.  I was endlessly playing games and making up families and stories.  Dollhouse, Barbie and invisible friends were my favorite activities.  My imaginary family consisted of me as the mom, and my four daughters (dad had died in war.)  I had one Ken doll, but he mostly just sat in the kitchen while the ladies kept busy preparing for the ball or searching for the missing bunny rabbit!  Though I was athletic, I was a girls-girl to the bone.

And my mom and I were a team.  Just like she and her mom.  Grandma (Bacca, to me) and mom had the sweetest, best friend, mother-daughter relationship.  Bacca had an envious relationship with all her daughters - and all her daughters had first-born daughters (in fact, my two aunts only ever had daughters!).  But I always thought of my mom the way she thought of her mom.  I had friends who wished they had an older brother.  I never did.  I loved being the oldest, and I loved being mom's pal.  We would take the latest baby with us on weekend shopping trips.  I, and just I, went with her when she found Bacca was dying.  We flew cross-country while she was nine months pregnant, and while we were in the hospital parking lot, Bacca died.  We got off the elevator and were told the news by mom's sisters.  And I was there.  Not my dad, not all the other kids, and now not even her mom.

I'd take the baby so mom could sleep.  Mom never missed my games, mom taught me how to cook and loved to let me learn, mom tried to help me with fashion and I refused to heed her advice.  Mom went to Chicago with me before my first big trip "alone" after highschool.  Mom and I get ourselves into the most ridiculous debacles, and we're so similar: messy, unorganized, big-hearted creatives... we are full of ideas, love to relax and make things beautiful, but usually do things the hard way.  I spent a week in the hospital with mom nearly a year ago.  She was the first person I called when I got engaged, the only family member waiting up for me when we got home that night, and the most excited about wedding planning.  I had two must-haves for the wedding: to marry Caleb, and for mom to be there.  The day I found out I was pregnant, I ran upstairs to find my mom and tell her... literally ten minutes after Caleb and I found out ourselves.  Mom came with us to the gender reveal ultrasound yesterday, and we're planning on her being there for the birth (we both need her.)  And that's just how it is.

In my mind, I always, mmm, wanted? No, I can't even say wanted... I think assumed.  In my mind, I always assumed that my first born and I would continue on what Bacca and mom, and mom and I shared.  It just seemed natural and how it would be.

When Caleb and I started planning our futures together, we both agreed we had a gut instinct that our first born would be a girl.  I was surprised when he said that, actually.  I thought he'd predict a son first. But he was oddly convinced we'd be a family of three: dad, mom and little lady.

After we actually found out we were expecting, we never even talked about "Do you think it's a boy? Or a girl?" it just was a girl.  All along.  We have a list of names we love, but one of the girl names especially seemed to fit this baby and we unintentionally started calling her that name.  When we announced at church that we were having a girl, a dear older man who has spoken into our lives through prayer and vision from the Lord, had a distinct picture of our daughter, and the phrase immediately associated with her was "what a joy! what a joy!"  I cried during his prayer for her - his prayer of not just being a joy to those around her, but having a deep and unnatural sense of God's joy.   Marked by stone-strong joy.

As the weeks went on, I thought it'd be fun to do all those little tests.  The Chinese gender calendar.  The string-and-needle-test.  The cravings test.  The "way you're carrying" test.  Girl. Girl. Girl. Girl.  I had strangers stop me out in public and tell me I was having a girl, because of such-and-such trait or quality I apparently had.  I had a few friends tell me "I don't know, you're awfully confident, but I have a feeling it might be a boy.  Just because you're so sure it's a girl.  Little boy is going to prove you wrong!"  I'd honestly try to imagine what they would be like.

What if this baby is a boy?  Wow.  It never really crossed my mind.  And I couldn't even begin to grasp that.  What if Little Clementine Joy Girl is... a he?  Trying to imagine that felt like trying to imagine Little Clementine Joy Girl being a fox, or butterfly.  I really want boys... in fact!  I'd love to have six boys after this first girl!  But, that's just not who was in me right now.  Between dreams, memories, desires, predictions, and plain ol' gut instinct, Caleb and I have always known she's our "she."

After basketball a few days ago, I was talking to one of the moms and she asked if I knew what we were having yet.  I responded, like I always do, "We haven't had the ultrasound yet, but I know it's a girl."  We talked for a few minutes about when she was pregnant with her first baby, and how she knew it was a girl.  "Actually, before I even got married I knew, and felt like I had it on my heart from the Lord, that I was going to have three daughters.  And I knew my first three were girls.  I couldn't really explain it, but I just knew."  I got a little misty, and felt heart-tugs "Yes! She knows what I'm experiencing!" (Oh, and she ended up having five daughters!)  Before Behr Kless was born, "we all" knew he was a boy.  Becca "knew" for years before she was even pregnant, and had even bought baby boy things! (Though, to be fair, I think she had one or two girl things... just in case.)  The first Kless baby was always "he" in my heart and mind.   We could never have fully imagined or prepared for Behr, but in the ways that we could, he was exactly "who" we were all picturing.  I know my mom often didn't have a strong feeling one way or another (and she waited to find out what it was when she gave birth), but I've been sure.  100% sure.  Just as much as I knew Caleb was "the one" for me, I knew this baby as a girl.  I would have been more shocked to find out the baby was a boy, then to find out it was twins or triplets.  In my heart of hearts, deep down deep, for maybe no rational reason.  I would probably even get a little offended when people would "tell me" I might be wrong ;)  But, how could they know and feel what I knew and felt?  They couldn't.  And that's okay.

I couldn't sleep much the night before last, and I was counting the hours until we got to go see Baby Love's face.  It took forever - like waiting for the boy you like to text you back.  But, time never stands still.  It always moves forward.  And it was finally time to (hopefully!) get the medical proof of what we've known in our hearts.

Without further ado, our baby:



Yup.  I was dead wrong.

When I saw that blue paint, I think I lost my breath.  The only thing that even comes close to comparing my shock was the feeling I had when Caleb proposed:  SHOCK.  I was very happy when Caleb proposed - very!  But at first, what I immediately felt?  Shock.  Surprise - but, like, more astonishment.  Lightning bolt, this does not feel like my own life, I think I'm going to open my eyes in a few seconds and wake up, WHAAAAT?!?!  My response to proposal shock was instant and hard tears.  Turns out that was my response for Baby Boy, too ;)  I cried the whole drive.  And kept saying "I'm shocked.  I'm just so shocked.  I feel dizzy.  And like this isn't really life.  I'm shocked.  There is NO WAY."

Then the shock turned into sadness.  Hear me out on this.  I was not (am not?) sad that we're having a boy, but rather, I was emotional that it wasn't a girl.  Literally decades of hope, imagination and instinct were proven wrong ;)  And it felt like I was missing someone.  The firstborn daughter I thought I not only had but who I also knew ("better than anyone else!") was "gone."  Yes, yes, I know she was never there.  But in my heart she was.

Caleb sees he's never seen me this emotional.  I had to go coach practice and was shaking when I arrived at the gym, trying to play it cool and not burst into tears in the middle of explaining 70-overload and breaking half-court traps.  Throughout practice I'd feel the little twists and spins of my baby inside. My mind kicked into auto-pilot "Hey girlie!  I love to feel you!"  Then I'd remember.  Right.  No.  Buddy!  Hey... little... guy.  I love to feel you, too!  Er, YOU.  Not "too."  Just you.  I love to feel you.

After practice we road over to Target to get the goods for our "sweet treat announcement."  I cried all through the aisles.  I little boy jumped out of the popcorn section and said "wa-la!"  Caleb laughed and whispered to me "We're going to have a little guy like that!" as we passed him.  I cried more.  Praise Jesus irrational crying is pretty much the most normal part of being pregnant.  It's just what happens when you feel anything, and it makes it very very hard to know what you feel.  "Are you sad?"  "I don't know!  I don't think so!"  Caleb was perfect and told me that it was totally alright to be disappointed, it didn't make me a bad mom or mean that I didn't love my son.  It just meant I was really taken off guard, so crying is normal.

After we told my family, my mom and I just sat there, dumbfounded.  The best way I can describe it would be if someone came up to me and handed me smooth, grey, brick-sized stone and told me "This is your pet puppy!"  I'd be like "Um, no.  It's not a puppy.  It's a... rock."  "No, no!  It's not a rock!  It's a dog!"  And then, all of a sudden, the rock starts wagging a tail and jumping around and licking my arms and it's somehow definitely a dog.  Even though - THAT GUY HANDED ME A ROCK?! HOW DID IT TURN INTO AN ANIMAL?!  It basically felt bizarre.  "No, it's not a boy.  It's a girl." "Well, actually, it is a boy." "No way." "Yes way." "Oh wow, I guess you're right.  It is a boy.  Wow.  How'd that happen?!" ;)

So now, almost 24 hours later, I've settled into the idea and reality of my son a little more.  When I feel baby doing his flip-turns, I think "Aw!  He's getting some morning exercise in!" I have looked at his sonogram pictures dozens and dozens of times.  His full lips, his rosy nose, his jaw just like daddy's.  His super long legs, like grandpa and Caleb.  His huge ribcage, just like me.  His perfect set of man-shoulders and boyish, lifted chest.  His big feet - and big self!  He's already measuring larger than his due date ;) He does look like a little boy.  Caleb even said so before we knew.  He looks like Caleb.

I read Numbers 13 and 14, with my boy in mind.  "Caleb quieted the people... 'The land, which we passed through is an exceedingly good land.  The LORD delights in us, and He will bring us into this land and give it to us!... do not fear the people of the land.  The Lord is with us; do not fear them.' ... Then the Lord said 'Caleb has a different spirit, and has followed me fully."  Known for his loyalty, devotion, his companionship.  For his incredible power of observation, for his fearlessness despite all odds, his whole-heartedness and sureness of God.

Oh crazy surprise boy, we did not "decide" to have you or make you.  God did, centuries ago.  He planned you, and then He made you.  And He made you you.  A boy.  A firstborn boy.  A stubborn boy ;)  Our boy.  I don't know much about you yet.  You're a flipper and spinner, not a kicker (I don't know what that means for real life, though.  I'm done with my instincts!).  You refuse to wake up if you're still sleepy.  Goodness, you had me laughing at the ultrasound.  There is no way you were actually staying asleep with all the poking and prodding.  At first you were making crying faces and had your mouth wide open "yelling."  But then you "flipped" into a ball, with your long legs STRAIGHT over your head so we couldn't "get in" and see you very well.  You held that position perfectly still for almost an hour, with the occasional good hard kick when the probe got too close to you.   We, obviously, think you are very cute and look kind of like a kitten in some of the 4D images.  The tech was pretty impressed too (and she TOTALLY is not impressed with all the other babies she sees), "Wow, you have a very cute one.  Such a cutie."  Psh.  Yeah.  That's my kid.  My son.

You'll be the big brother to the rest of our children.  When they think "family" they'll think of you.   Both dad and I are the oldest in our big families (your family!) and we can confirm: having little brothers and sisters is the best.  You'll get to know them before they know you.  You get to be the hero in their eyes, and the boss. (Muahha.)  You get to love on them, and see how much fun it is to bless the little guys.

pc: resolved to worship blog

Your Maryland uncles will teach you all about sports, and your Oklahoma uncles will teach you all about country life.  They know how to build airplanes on the farm! ;)  Dad (and I, but especially dad) can't wait to show you all the best places to set-up a fort, how to catch a fish and how many things you can make out of sticks.  We're even working on a house for you right now.  A real house.  But that story is for a different time.
Oh man, you're gonna do all sorts of things to make us smile and shake our heads and thank God you came into this world.  If you're affectionate like your ol' man, I wouldn't be surprised if you're a bit of a flirt.  Don't worry - we get it.  Kissing is a blast.

Ah!  This is so much fun!  I hope you come up with some crazy costumes.  And think you're Butch Cassidy or a snake or, like my brothers, an entire sports team all wrapped up in one-person (including referees and coaching staff.)

You're welcome to be as adventurous and curious as you want.  There's only one rule: you can't die.  Okay?  I already love you too much.  You have to wait until you're a fat old man.  (Also!  I'm a cool mom - I'll let you adventure barefooted.  I love being barefoot.)

Speaking of old men, we're going to teach you to be a gentleman.  "Gentle" and "man" are a fantastic pair of words to combine.   Your father is both of those.  Be like him, okay? Deal?!  You're already going to be the best old chap, I can tell. 

But before you can get to "old" you have to get through "young."  Goodness gracious, some little training-bra wearing, wide-eyed toots is going to have a crush on you.  I hope you're clueless for a while ;) but that you enjoy (and not waste) your "young."  I'll help you out with the whole outfit thing, dad has you covered on the how to treat a lady thing, but you're going to have to go elsewhere for dancing tips.  We're just no good. We've been talking about playing with our kids since the weekend we met.  We are just dying to play with you.  Dares and pranks and races and stories and the whole sha-bang. 

pc. resolved2worship blog

I have to admit, there is something about a happy little boy.  Nothing in the world quite like it.  We're going to do our best to give you lots to smile about, but I have a hunch you're going to be the one giving us reason to smile.

I have a lifetime of words to tell you.  I won't bore these poor blog readers here with it all.  But as I wrap up this post - this post I never thought I would be writing - you're doing some great somersaults in me.  Even the process of putting this post together has given me such a vision for being mama to a little boy, mama to you.  So now I'm crying unshocked, unsad, un-missing-"someone"-else tears.  I'm crying happy tears.  I'm so happy you're you and not who I thought you were.  I've never been more pleased to be more wrong.

You have five great-grandparents, four grandparents, 18 (including Joel in heaven) aunts and uncles, and two splendidly in love parents waiting for you.  Grow grow grow, and we await the day we formally welcome you to your family.

   
What a joy! What a joy!

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 14

"because some of us are pirates 
and some of us are damned.
but all of us, need all of us to ever find the land.
and though the passage of good hope may seem
like a needles eye.
we're floating on tranquility
on this beautiful night."
josh ritter - beautiful night

There are varied and colorful reasons a person might decide to "be in a relationship" with someone else.   More than these, but these:

The together-ness of it.  "A lonely existence is fate worse than death," after all!  
The flattery of it.  The need to be wanted, the want to be needed.  
The game of it.  It's madness, and the human heart loves hopeful, spirited contention.  
The fear of it (or the fear of not having it).  The "what if's" and "could be's!" and "I hope not's" and "I'm scared's."   
The hard-to-get-ness of it.   The one you can't have, the bad boy, the challenge, the hide-and-seek, hunt-and-chase, the tag-you're-it, the "timing isn't right, but our love can make it work! It will survive!"   
The chemistry of it.  The "bam!" person (people?) who change the game once and for all.  Who actually drive you wild and… stupid.  The ones who make you forget or forego your standards.  The ones you "just can't say no" to.  The ones who introduce you to your, ahem, drive.  
The expectations of it.  What you assume or predict or plan to happen.
The bragging rights of it.  Being able to walk into a room with him  on your arm, and post bitterly-adorable-heaven-on-earth-special filtered phone photographs of you two, and to have someone to talk to all your gals about.  It's fun!   
The pressure of it.  "Everyone" thinks it's meant to be.  "Everyone" "knows" you are made for each other.  "Everyone" thinks you're an idiot to pass it up.   
The enthusiasm of it.  Like when it snows in October.  It's out of the ordinary, it's something to talk about, it's unboring. 
The "it's so perfect on paper" of it.  The lists.  Oh the lists.  Burn the lists.  (In the meantime, have personal conviction).  
The confusion of it.  Puzzles are confusing.  That's why it's so satisfying to put it all together.  Victory! Perseverance! Now we dance!  
The safety of it.  What is known is far less horrifying than what is unknown.  "There could be better for me, but there might not be."  
The imagination of it.  The soggy, schmaltzy, triumphant make-believe you do believe is on the verge of happening, of becoming  tangible.    
The idea of it.  It's quite a delicious concept.  Me and you, you and me, against the great, big, bad world.  The place you belong.  Being "more yourself with him than without him."  It pulses.

And sometimes, it's the "him-ness" of it.  He's not an illusion, trick, game, hoax, hole-filler, activity, chore, nest, or dream.  Maybe he comes with a side of deep ba-chow-pa-chow fireworks, or irresistible good looks, or arresting vocabulary, or charm that could hang off a dainty silver chain.  But it's him.  He is who you want, and why you're together.

Anna brought confusing clarity when she said 

"I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it, but I didn't, not really. Only the smudgeness of it; the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn't realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. 

I didn't know, don't know, about the in-between bits; the gory bits of you, and the gory bits of me."  

The gory bits of me and you.  The gory bits of him.  Before our comical Strong Mansion first date, I had gone on two other "first-dates" with a boyfriend (those other boyfriends, by the way? BOTH relationships combined didn't last four weeks.)  Caleb was my third actual boyfriend.  And the second "him."  I crushed on, and was fooled by, and pondered, and played the game with, and accepted the attention of others.  But on that Strong Mansion date, I was 21 and had made my way through a decade of middle school, high school, and "college age" with less hugs from males than fingers on my right hand, and without holding hands with a boy, having a first kiss, or saying "I love you."

But, I went to coffee, lunch and dinner (alone) with different guys (those are dates, right?).  I "talked" with guys.  I "tried" to see if there was anything there.  I "waited patiently" when something was there for me, and then… the guy dated and married someone else.  I was a strange combination of smart and clueless.  Of experienced and naive.  Of sharp and innocent.  

So when it came to Caleb and I, I knew I liked him.  I wanted to date him.  I wanted to fall in love with him.  (As opposed to "just wanting to fall in love.")  He, rather than the idea of he, had my respect and affection.  He was my good friend (so important so important so important).  He was a man of conviction, and action.  He lived and loved with a soothing and honest modesty.  He was excitable, but intentional.  He seemed to have the most perfect balance of "work hard, play hard" of anyone I'd ever met.  He was a gentleman and also a little boy and also a grandfather.  Honorable, energetically delightful and patiently reassuring.   He had a beautiful mind, but didn't give away thoughts easily.  "… these stories were't routinely told.  These stories one had to earn."  He had a nearly word-for-word identical vision for future, marriage, family and life that I saw for myself.  He was generous.  He listened to me.  He, in one sentence, could hush and challenge and inspire and affirm me.  He was tearfully real with me about his personal insecurities and fears.  He was flexible and content and faithful.  I felt like I had known him longer than I really had, I had feelings for him, I daydreamed about making-out with him.  He was my friend.  We were figuring each other out, and didn't know each other well yet, there were "the in-between bits" left to discover.  But I knew I had my sleeves rolled up and my work-boots on, and I was in this for the gory bits of him.  Not the thought of or fun of or flattery from him.  
(By the way, female readers, don't confuse "what he does to you" and "he."  Also, don't ignore "what he doesn't do to you" and "he."  I know that sounds complicated, but it's important.  You should feel something, but you shouldn't be willing to DO ANYTHING because of said feeling.  If it looks good on paper, but you have no desire… don't do it.  If you have more desire than you ever imagined, but have no/broken trust/meaningful-friendship… watch out. Seriously.  Beware.)

But here is what I did not know.  I didn't know if it was enough.  I didn't "know."  Which.  I know I know I know! You don't HAVE to "know" right away.  But I was aware that you can have a great friendship, and emotional romance, and sizzling fires… and it doesn't mean you should or will spend forever together.  And since I had been hurt, since I had relationships not work out, since Caleb himself had "broken up" with me once before, I was somewhat frozen in my square.  Like playing a board game, and genuinely enjoying it, but when it came time to roll the dice and move forward, I just… stayed put.  I didn't want to not play, and I didn't want to lose. Because he was so… good… I could talk to him about all this "stuff."  I told him that I thought he liked me more than I liked him, which was quite a flip from February.  I told him I was nervous, but that I definitely wanted to be in this.  When I was being silent, he'd force me to talk.  And when I couldn't shut up, he'd force me to be quiet.  Not "forceful" in a controlling way, but in an unstoppable way.  There were a few qualities of his that still were different from what I expected and hoped for.  Mostly it was this:  he wasn't the funny guy, the life of the party, the quick-witted, loud energy, "full of things to say" man.  He wasn't like my dad.  He wasn't like most of the other guys I ever liked or "considered" or connected with. He certainly wasn't the personality of the man I imagined for myself.  Was this okay?  Was all he was "enough"?  Was I okay not having that quality?  These questions were another reason I knew I liked him.  He was not my type - at all.  He wasn't what I would have picked for myself if you gave me a line-up.  And yet, in all of that, there was a wholeness I clearly couldn't deny.  Was it my heart fighting my mind?  My mind fighting my heart?  I don't know.  I couldn't let go, but I was scared to hold on.  A phrase I said often was "I want him to be 'it' but I don't know if he is."

These sentences are what, looking back, I wish I had understood a little better.  Or maybe they are exactly what I did come to understand.  

“I used to think that finding the right one was about the man having a list of certain qualities.  If he has them, we'd be compatible and happy.   Sort of a checkmark system that was a complete failure.  But I found out that a healthy relationship isn't so much about sense of humor or intelligence or attractive-ness.   It's about avoiding partners with harmful traits and personality types.   And then it's about being with a good person.   A good person on his own, and a good person with you.   Where the space between you feels uncomplicated and happy.  A good relationship is where things just work.   They work because, whatever the list of qualities, whatever the reason, you happen to be really, really good together.”  deb caletti - the secret life of prince charming

"He blessed them… and behold, it was very good.  And they were naked and unashamed."  [Genesis 1 +2]  Acting openly, without guilt, embarrassment or fear.  Without protection, defense or anywhere to hide.  Vulnerable.  Free.  It was good.  Ironically enough, feeling open and unrestrained with someone else is not a particularly exciting or "jazz you up" feeling.  It's not the peak and pinnacle of all sensation.  Like walking into your mother's kitchen, with her household famous homemade meal waiting for you.  Where she can already tell you had a hard day, and saved you a plate because you were home late.  You can take a deep breath and "Aaaaaah…" and relax.  Rest.  Savor.  Enjoy. Spill.  Not think.  Or think too hard.  Be.  

I had never experienced that with someone else, and I often wondered if that sense of comfort, home and total safety was a cop-out?  If it was boring?  If it was "normal"?  Is it supposed to "feel" like this?  I sometimes over-explain myself - which is probably more a sign of poor writing than misunderstood readership.  BUT. I'm not using the words "naked" and "unrestrained" in a dating relationship with the meaning "DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! ALL THE TIME! NO RULES! NO CONSEQUENCES!  NO WORRIES! HAKUNA MATATA!"  I'm simply meaning: I'm not faking anything with this person.  I'm not keeping anything from this person.  He knows ME.  And I'm learning him.  Not a game-playing him, or "yes-man" him.  The REAL him.  And the space between Caleb and I was uncomplicated and happy.  He was good.  And we were very true with each other.  And all of that didn't "feel" like things I had experienced before.  Not because these "new feelings" were louder and bigger than other ones, no, no.  That's what I was expecting, to be honest.  They were quieter and calmer. (And they were there.  I'll repeat until I die: they must exist.) This caused disharmony in me.  

Our dates were always filled with good food, cute outfits, special adventures, and happiness.  We saw each other every single day.  Because we both  wanted to.  I was quite thrilled when I was with him, but I'd wake up and start asking all my questions and have to talk myself off the ledge, and then - without fail -, when 4:00 or 5:00 o'clock rolled around I was anxious for that text that he was finishing up work.  I had to see him.  After a few weeks of double-dates, movie-nights at friend's houses, hiking trips, group church activities he had made some new friends in Maryland, but I realized he was with me all the time.  I felt bad, so I told him to go have a guys night, to go do something by himself.  He decided that he wanted to hang out with his new friend Josh, who is married with three young kids, and lived about an hour away from our town.  Caleb loved talking with Josh, and genuinely loved spending time with families and guys "ahead" of him in life. 

 I didn't see Caleb before work.  I didn't see him during work.  I didn't see him after work.  By dinner time, I was physically hurting.  I missed Caleb heaps and handfuls.  I was trying to be "good" and not text him 12 or 13 times.  I was trying to enjoy hanging out with my dad (he was in town and staying in the apartment with me.)  I made him dinner and we caught up.  Josh's wife was being wonderful and texting me the funny things they were talking about it.  Laughing at Caleb's drink choices.  Around 7:30 or so she texted and said Caleb had thrown up.  WHAT! Thrown up! "Yeah!  He was fine one second, and then the next he excused himself - quickly - to the bathroom.  And then he was puking!"  She told me he seemed to be feeling better.  Until.  He threw up again 30 minutes later.  "He's laying down on the couch now.  He says he can drive home.  But I'm not so sure…I'm sorry I poisoned your boyfriend!"  I immediately left.  "Tell him I'm coming.  Don't let him drive."  

I arrived after 9:15, and he was limp and sweaty on the couch.  It was all humorous (and the makings of a great story) but still so so sad.  He looked pathetic.  Not "man-cold pathetic." But actually really, really bad.  Slumped over we helped him to the car.  He ever-so-sweetly thanked Josh for having him (with drool slugging down his cheek.)  Every bump and turn caused a panic.  "Please drive slow!  Please be careful!"  We made it back to my house in the nearer-to-11:00-hour.  He had thrown up again a couple more times in the car (thank you, Kelley, for the bags you sent with us!)  He propped himself on me as we inched up the stairs and into my living room.  He wilted into the cute white couch and moaned.  I left to get him a blanket and pillow, then I heard scampering and awful heaving.  He slammed the bathroom door and had himself a time.  I brought him some ginger ale and crackers once he laid back down.  "Try to eat a little?"  He refused.  Ice-hugged-washcloths were the next need.  I held the cloths over his head and under his neck.  "Please try to eat something?"  He nibbled a cracker and fled to the restroom again.  While he was in there, I got a bucket for him so we wouldn't have to make "the run" every time.  Within the hour, he "emptied out" into the bucket.  I cleaned the bucket in the bathtub.  He was freezing now.  I hunted for a warmer quilt.  And Pepto-Bismal.  He exploded again.  He asked for popsicles and he was too hot.  His face was bright red and raining.  I sped to 7-11.  It was nearing 3 am.  I came home to him dry-heaving and pleading with God to "make it stop."  I tried to rub his feet to help calm his body down?  Relax him a little?  

In between his "sessions" he'd sort of fall asleep, only to be abruptly awoken.  I cleared and washed his bucket over and over.  By 5:30 am he had fallen asleep for real and at 6:00 am, I wrapped up in a sheet and slept under the kitchen table with a few pillows.  We both woke up around lunchtime.  I was in the same clothes as the day before, with various juice, medication, soap and puke dots all over me.  My make-up was mostly rubbed off, and the bags under my eyes were too big to carry-on.  I smelled salty and bloated. And that was the morning he "fell in love" with me.  My dad laughed at our appearance.  "Good night, huh?"  Perfect night, actually.

I, of course, didn't know what had happened that night for quite some time.  But for him, that series of events, caused him to "fall hard."  He was in love.  

The night before his disastrous food poisoning, we had whipped around Washington DC for a nearly perfect date.  He got off of work early and told me to "dress nice."  I had a dress I had been waiting for the right occasion to wear.  This was the perfect time.  We drove to the metro and took the train into the city.  After being captivated by the detail and grander of Union Station, we walked and talked all the way to dinner.  He had reservations at the restaurant I'd be talking about for months: Founding Farmers.  We agonized over the menu.  It's so hard to just pick a couple items!  We moaned with delight when our food arrived and we could finally taste it.  We spent most of dinner talking about his new plans:  his new "I'm not leaving Maryland" plan.  Though we had only ever talked about and agreed to him coming for 4-6 weeks, once he was here, I kind of forgot he wasn't staying?  The conversation was richly meaningful, but also, you know, scary ;)

He told me how he thought he could get more work here once he finished his project.  He talked about selling his house and land in Oklahoma if he needed to.  He didn't want to, but he was willing to.  I was almost alarmed.  His land? And house?  That place was his lifelong dream, and was half-way into being complete!  And… he would consider giving that up to stay here with me?  To make things work with me?  The idea shook me to the spine.  I felt honored and horrified.  We then talked about his house.  I asked him all about it.  He told me every little detail and plan and idea he had for it.  He told me why it was located where it was, why he didn't put the house in the original plan (on the hill), how he ended up getting the land, where he wanted to build a gazebo and stage to play music in the summer, about the deck for big BBQ's, about the tall ceilings for a 15-foot Christmas tree, the stone fireplace, the spiral staircase, the wood beams ("to wrap garland around at Christmas time!").  He spoke of these plans like he was telling me about the glory days in war, or recalling the night he met his sweetheart, Shirley, at the local bandstand.  He was lost in world, with swift movements and hungry eyes and animated descriptions.  He loved that land, and what that land meant to him.  It was the first night I ever thought "Maybe I could live in Oklahoma.  Maybe."  

After eating, we walked to the Capitol building.  In the summer there are weekly free jazz concerts put on by different military branches.  We sat on the white steps of the iconic building, and clapped and hoo-rah-ed and watched the sun go down, with the reflecting pool and Washington Monument in the distance.  Not too long after, we took our shoes off and walked around under giant trees in the soft green grass.  We found a spot to sit down, and I pulled out my favorite ND Wilson book.  He'd been wanting to read it with me, so I opened to one of my most cherished chapters and took off into the story.  I read aloud for a few pages, leaning my back on Caleb's shoulder, rubbing the grass with my none-book-holding-hand.  Then I noticed Caleb seemed really stiff.  He was fidgeting and not comfortable.  "Are you alright?  Am I hurting you?" "NO! NO. I'm good.  You're fine.  Yeah. Keep reading!"  I read on and he arched his back a little.  It almost felt like he was holding his breath under water.  I stopped again. "I can move!  It's okay… want to find a tree to sit against?"  "I'm really fine.  I promise!"  I picked up where I had left off and… a rain drop fell onto my hand.  And my dress.   Another one landed in the middle of the paragraph I was reading.  

I looked up at the clear, hot, summer sky.  Dry as could be.  I turned towards my date.  My literal hot date.  He was not a normal shade of flesh-color.  And he was sweating, big time.  It was a particularly humid night, and summers in Oklahoma are dry like never-used diapers in Egypt.  He was not used to dealing with this much perspiration.  "Oh my, that's disgusting.  I'm so sorry.  What a gentleman I am!"  I dropped the book and rolled around laughing.  "Take off your button-up!  You have a t-shirt underneath!" He was so relieved to hear me say that.  He didn't just have "pit-marks."  He had chest-marks, neck-ring-marks, wrist-marks and pit… pools.  Slightly cooler, and slightly more relaxed, he came nearer to me again.  As we were preparing to re-settle, he, um, cut the cheese, burned the bench, stepped on a duck, experienced some thunder from down under.  It was silent.  But venomous.  My first thought was that we had accidentally arranged ourselves into a nest of dog poop.  "Is this dirt?! Or is it… UM. CALEB. Did you just…?"  He leapt away from me and sheepishly apologized.  He, thus far, had been nothing but proper, classy and gentlemanly.  Well-spoken, clean and fresh-smelling.  And his image was unraveling at the seams.  I felt like I was witnessing Kate Middleton walk around with her dress tucked into her pantyhose.  This was not like him!  And his mortification only made it funnier.  He didn't play it off or make a joke.  He was in SHOCK.  He tried to wave his BO-laden J.Crew button-up around the air to fan the smell away.  While doing that, he let loose again.  

"CALEB!" I screamed, mostly teasing.  He looked so defeated and ashamed with himself.  I laughed and laughed.  "YOU!  You of all people!  Are sweating all over your date, and rubbing body odor on her!  AND FARTING!  In her FACE!  HAHAHHA!"  Once he saw my pleasure in his crudeness, he started laughing too.  I loved seeing him "come out of his box."  Not be perfectly groomed, cut and polished.  I loved seeing his reaction to embarrassment.  I egged it on more and more.  Maybe it wasn't all that funny, but the tickle-bug hit and we were stumbling around re-telling the story to ourselves, imitating our faces, roaring on the lawn.  

We finally sat down on a bench and tried to re-group.  He told me he was glad - "like, major glad." - he was staying.  He hoped I was too.  I was quiet for a moment.  

"Caleb.  What I'm about to say might seem ludicrous to you.  And I don't expect you to understand it.  But, I kind of really believe it."  I had certainly perked his attention.  "When I was 15, I had a dream.  And.  I don't know.  It was different than other dreams.  I had met this stranger in my dream and we were together and I fell in love with him.  But it all happened at this one moment.  Like, it was a specific 'thing' that happened.  Well, maybe I fell in love with him over time, but I didn't know it.  Until one specific time.  And I won't tell you any details of the dream, but I remember it perfectly.  I could draw it out for you right this second.  But when I knew, I knew.  And.  I think that's going to happen to me.  I think I'm going to KNOW.  And, I don't know yet.  And I want you to know that.  I really am happy and am loving all of this.  And we've only been together for two months, so I know there is no rush.  I'm not trying to speed anything up or put pressure on us.  But since you're staying, and saying very big things about how you feel about me, and what you'd give up for me… I just thought it was fair that you know."  

He was, rightfully, confused by my eloquent speech.  "So, you have to have 'this moment' like in your dream before you… marry someone?"  "Well!  Kind of!  I mean, I'm not even saying marriage, per se, I'm just saying… I've never KNOWN with someone.  Except that time in my dream.  And I want to have that sureness, that total 'Yes. I KNOW.' before I committed to something big, you know?"  He asked, rightfully, if I didn't have 'that one moment' if I'd maybe "know" another way.  "God works in many ways.  You might know with someone, but it might not be like it was in your dream."  I agreed.  And I had no biblical or conviction-al or even helpful support to back up my dream theory.  He could tell I was closing up.  "It's okay!  You don't have to know anything yet.  I don't know yet.  We're just dating.  We're having fun.  It's okay.  You're not leading me on.  Don't worry.  You can take your time, crazy lady.  There is no deadline for this.  I know what I'm risking, and I want to.  Don't feel pressure.  I mean it."  I got chills and almost cried, but decided to change the topic and take pictures instead. 

Just hours later, he was puking on my couch.  I couldn't help but tremor inside when the in-betweens of he and I made their way onto our stage.  Unpracticed, disgusting, raw, human us.  On display for the other to see!  It was good.  And June was telling the story of such goodness.  We'd come a long way since December.  We had a long way to go.  But I was starting to the CS Lewis sentence come to pass, "Real friendship will have naked personalities." 

And I had the gory bits of "him" very much in love with me.  Tale as old as time.  True as it can be.


to be continued...

Too Many Announcements | I'm Kristen Workshop + Extras

cause all I know is we said "hello,"
and your eyes look like coming home.
taylor swift

I've been a bustling toaster over here - doing more than just eating + reading birth stories on mom blogs! (though my husband might question that...) - so I have LOTS to share today.  First of all!  TODAY is the details of "The StoryTime WorkShop day"!  We have dates! And applications! And... things!     

April 26 + April 27 + April 28 

(three full days... it'll be a long, full, joyous weekend!)

The price includes "lodging," three meals a day, and all workshop materials.  You will be responsible for any "extras" like travel, trinkets, snacks and shopping.   To apply, please fill out this application and e-mail it to me (if the link is being wonky for you, e-mail me and I'll send you the application in an attachment!).   The last day to apply is February 2, 2013.  I will announce the group the following week, so everyone can make plans accordingly.  I'm also offering a payment-plan instead of a one-time-time-payment-chunk, so if you are interested in that, please note in your application!  I know how hard many (most!) of us are working to save, spend smartly and make decisions about what is best for us at the time, and I want to do all I can to help, not hinder.  

As a reminder, this workshop is geared towards photographers and also more "inspirational" than technical.  Though we will talk photography and do shoots, the goal of this is to really spark and thrill our minds and hearts, and help our delight in stories spill over into our photo-taking.  If you are looking for a business-start-up or "how-to"session, this likely won't be the answer to your dreams!

GUYS. I'm really very excited.  I hope you are too!  Please spread the word if you think any of your pals and gals would be interested in joining the hootin' and hollerin'!  And apply!  Ps.  There are no "rules" on how to apply... if you want to make it "fun" and answer these questions through a more creative means than an e-mail (video/blog post/graphic) by allllllll means!  No pressure.  E-mail works brilliantly too.  WONDER WONDER THIS IS FUN!

Also, coming very soon is the super-trendy-"off-season"-blog-revamp.  I can't wait for you to see!

But here's the kicker (and why you should be PUMPED about the new blog design) is that when the new blog appears... there will be a giveaway.  This isn't happening yet.  But it's happening.  For real.  And one lucky little person will win these FOUR prizes.  Grand slam, if I do say so myself!

As cool as all this is... I'm most happy about finding out what our little person is: a he or she :)  Also.  My basketball team is undefeated (the only team in the school who hasn't lost!)  OH!  And I've baked two days in a row, which is a record for me.  This week might be more fun than wedding week... Gracious.  

Today | Personal

"I so do not hate you."
Caleb, coming up with a "new" way to say "I love you."

There are days that you realize how much you love your person.  I've never been one to say or even "get" the phrase "I fall more in love with you everyday."  Maybe that's just me.  I don't mind that other people say it or mean it.  I love Caleb everyday.  Better and sweeter still, he loves me every day - and that's a life-changing, weird, "how do I get to be this girl?" experience.  But then those days come.  And you just... yeah.  You feel love for them so much more than you ever have before.  That doesn't happen "everyday" for me.  But when it happens, I really feel like I'm "falling in love" all over again and not experiencing actual life and I just have to bake him muffins and take pictures of him and daydream at my desk and... tell someone.    

“And I want to play hide-and-seek,

and give you my clothes,
and tell you I like your shoes,
and sit on the steps while you take a bath,
and massage your neck and kiss your feet,
and hold your hand,
and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food,
and meet you at Rudy's and talk about the day,
and type up your letters and carry your boxes,
and laugh at your paranoia,
and give you tapes you don't listen to,
and watch great films and watch terrible films,
and complain about the radio,
and take pictures of you when you're sleeping,
and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish,
and take you to the eye hospital,
and not laugh at your jokes,
and want to see you in the morning but let you sleep for a while,
and tell you how much I love your hair,
and sit on the steps 'till your neighbour comes home,
and sit on the steps waiting till you come home,
and worry when you're late and be amazed when you're early,
and be sorry when I'm wrong and happy when you forgive me,
and look at your photos,
and wish I'd known you forever,
and tell you you're gorgeous,
and hug you when you're anxious,
and hold you when you hurt,
and want you when I smell you,
and whimper when I'm next to you and whimper when I'm not,
and smother you in the night,
and get cold when you take the blanket and hot when you don't,
and melt when you smile and dissolve when you laugh,
and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest dove who flew across the ocean because she loved you,
and write poems for you,
and want to buy you a kitten because it'd be funny,
and keep you in bed when you have to go,
and cry like a baby when you finally do,
and get rid of the roaches,
and buy you presents you don't want,
and wander the city thinking of you,
and want what you want,
and think I'm losing myself but know I'm safe with you,
and tell you the worst of me,
and try to give you the best of me,
and answer your questions when I'd rather not,
and tell you the truth when I really don't want to,
and try to be honest because I know it's best,
and try to get closer to you because it's beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort,
and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse,
and somehow somehow somehow communicate some of the unconditional, all-encompassing, heart-enriching, mind-expanding, on-going love I have for you.” 

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!)

Josh + Brielle | Linganore Winery Wedding

“part of me is made of glass, and also,
i love you.”
nicole krauss

Summer sun makes promises.  Especially promises about love.  Brielle spent a summer day and night at a beautiful vineyard reception.  Wine! Dancing! Cheer!  Maybe he liked her.  Maybe he definitely liked her.  She left that wedding a summer or so ago frustrated ("Is he going to ask me out? Or do I need to get over this?") and ardent ("I want him to ask me out.  I don't want to get over this.")  The summer sun set. 








With the capacity of an entire team, a young Brielle has been administrating at her large church for years (yearssss) now.  She isn't just "good for her age."  She's good.  AND she's her age.  It's hard to walk into that building and not see a little blonde-bun-ned, walkie-talking and power-walking Brielle.  Her capable ability is a genius match to her blunt, radical, sharp, independent personality.  She is a think-a-head-er.  She's a do-er.  She thinks of the problems before they arise, and prepares for solutions before they are needed.  Brielle is not an airhead or ditzy blonde.  Though she be little, she be fierce!  She is not a drizzly, naive, "tender", or high-maintence.  I would be willing to bet that she's heard the phrase "you seem so much older than you really are!" weekly throughout her life.  I love her Brielle-tough-ness, her confidence, her crazy great sense of humor, her strong beauty.

I remember when Josh "first came to town."  He started teaching at the church's Christian school.  He was fresh out of college, energetic, consistently involved (in everything), and... single.  I was sure he'd pick one of the many pretty, available faces and get married within six months.  I was wrong.  Josh really invested himself in the roles God put before him.  Summer camps.  Sound booth.  Classroom.  Wrestling coach.  Church meetings.  It was a joke around there that Josh had a secret bedroom in the church scaffolding ;) "Does he ever leave?"  He, in particular, has spent great amount of time and life with the youngins.  The respect and friendship the kids share with him is undeniable.  But that great quality could sure be confusing when you're a younger girl... who likes him!

And yet, even though it maybe took him a *little* too long, Brielle found out that her crush was not an unrequited one.  And there was indeed something more between them.  "From time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom or yet describe takes place, like falling in love, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges and absorbs the impact.” They fell in love.  And last summer, he proposed in the church auditorium... where they have spent so many years of life together.  This winter, they married in that same church.  A legacy of giving, loving and pouring out themselves together continues and also begins.  













This was during the worship song... they weren't really singing ;) But they had some cute jokes for each other.





But, here's what I love.  Mr. Slow-Mover-Hard-Thinker-Teacher and Miss In-Charge-and-Super-Mature become so... kiddish when they are together.  I watched Brielle all morning and just thought "She seems so grown-up."  And then I watched Brielle in a chilly field with him and I thought "Wow, she seems like such a little girl."




Beautiful, yes.  Adult, yes. But the whole energy and environment changed.  Not only was she more relaxed, but she seemed completely carefree.  It was a side to her that I've personally never seen quite that way and also so enjoyed.  And Josh.  Josh was crazy over her.  I had a hard time getting them to stop talking and joking to take pictures... which is a dream come true, in my book.



















After celebrating with (what seemed like) the entire church and school, the evening crowd drove over to nearby Linganore Winery - ironically enough, the same winery she emotionally fumbled at that one not too far-gone summer.  With new rings on their hands and surrounded by the people they have loved on - for years - there was jubilee and partying for them.




The dance floor never (not once.) slowed down for over two hours.  Who was out there, keeping their kicks in the air?  Mostly Josh's students... plus many good friends and dear family.  It was certainly one of the longest, loudest, fastest, constant-est parties I've ever been to :)  Hoards of high-schoolers should come to every wedding!

 


Happy wedding day, you two kids.  Enjoy your Cancun summer sun, and all the promises you're reminded of while you're under it :)

ps. special special thanks to lydia jane for second-shooting with me + for a number of her lovely images used in this post :)

Story Time 2013 | An I'm Kristen Workshop

“stories never really end...even if the books like to pretend they do.  stories always go on.  they don't end on the last page,  any more than they begin on the first page.”
cornelia funke - inskpell | STORYTELLING |  the conveying of events in words, images and sounds,  often by improvisation, imagination or embellishment.  stories or narratives have been shared in every culture as a means of  entertainment, education, cultural preservation and to instill values. 
crucial elements of stories and storytelling include  who is in them, where it happened, and the details of the plot. | STORIES MUST BE TOLD | This spring, and also this fall, we will collect and with our hearts, stories and cameras, come to enliven and influence each other.  I suppose this is a photography workshop, but please don't be deceived or disappointed.   This is more about listening for, caring about and wanting the story.  We will watch moving pictures, read out loud, hear music, be together, be alone and take photographs.   Like the children who gather around grandpa's big chair, waiting for a tale, we will listen for the story.  We'll have a photoshoot every single day - with different people to work with and learn about.  This will be no "Follow me around, see how I posed her arm, I'm on f-stop 2.5" shoot.  This will be a "Study your subject, and figure out a way to tell everyone else what you learned about her with your camera."  
The stories are everywhere.  Every portrait shoot.  Every wedding.  Every household.  Every shop.  Every person.  They're there.  Are you looking?  We'll be looking this spring in a three-day workshop.  More details to come soon.  Very soon. -- Here's to the story about the pull-up-ed-jell-sandal-ed-flower-girl waiting to see her aunt in bridal glory. Here's to the wrinkles. Here's to the first morning of life and Edith and Meepers.    

Here's to the story about marriage, penny-pinching, good coffee and opening a shop.

Here's to the last winter in Florida and sun that never stops.

Here's to my own life.

And here's to her life!

Here's to the story of an 100-degree-wedding-day and a baby-girl becoming a bride.

Here's to a baby girl becoming a three-year-old girl.  And here's to donuts! And ties!

Here's to the food that helps Autumn grow!

And here's the nights that live forever, or so.

Here's to the story of the surprise triplets (and their fingers, and toes, and lips.)

Here's to grandma's pearl necklace, and why she wore it everyday.  Until this day... when she gave the necklace away.

Here's to wrinkles, again.

Here's to the faces that know waiting, but also know joy.

Here's to dads with their baby girls (dads who used to be little boys.)

Here's to big best friends,

and here's to little best friends, too.

And here's to the story about finally finding your way home, after all you've gone through.

Here's to the crazy ones, the elegant ones, the dancers and the thinkers...

Here's to roaring laughter, colored ink, spins and silver bands on happy fingers.

Here's to today and now,

and taking lots of pictures.

Brian + Shelby Leigh | Maternity Shoot | Baltimore MD Photography

sing a song for the ocean, 
a song for the sky
a song for tomorrow, 
love sweet by and by.
john denver - stonehaven sunset

The houses in Baltimore are certainly not as expensive as the ones in and around Washington DC.  But practically speaking, the commute just wouldn't be worth it.  They thought about it though.  Because, I mean, have you seen some of those new, modern, eco homes built near the park?  They're rad.  And would be fun family homes.  Jessica Simpson as a pregnant woman? Jessica Simpson as a woman.  How did she become famous again?  And cheap jeans always stretch out over 7 times faster than expensive jeans - especially cheap maternity jeans.  And, come to find out, I don't really have any questions to ask or jokes to make when talking to an engineer.  Except to tell them about all my highschool friends who went to school for engineering.  But it was alright - Brian is quick and casual and funny.  And seems for more "graphic-designer"-ish than engineer-ish.  And I like that.  He and Shelby seem like they've been together longer than they've been alive.  Shelby roars with abandon (especially when asked to "fake laugh"), doesn't like double-chins as much as I do, and is smart-beautiful (not dumb-beautiful.  Is it bad to call Jessica Simpson dumb-beautiful on my blog?)  She created an impressive photography business.  They're an everyday, tough, committed, witty couple.  And in February, they and Big Sisters One and Two get to meet Little Sister.  They're a family.  And they're just great.

I'm delighted for their Baby Girl.  She is just weeks away from meeting her creative, vibrant, loud, good family.  I'm happy for her - thrilled for her.  It's going to be a beautiful life.  So, Sister Three, here is a little visual story about your mama and dad while they waited for you.






































(... is there a special trick to making pregnancy look so... spectacular?  Dang, Shelby!)





Thank you for letting me watch and work with and enjoy you - you're lovely and hilarious.  And I am just longing to meet your new person.  I have a feeling she is going to have a personality like her dad and eyes like her mom.  But maybe that's me being an overly-emotional pregnant lady myself ;)





Oh, and congratulations ;)

With love,
Kristen Leigh

What Little Behrs Know | One Year Portraits

    Little Behrs live with full-emotions.  Little Behrs don't know about self-control or fear of man or peer pressure.  They know about swinging, though, and they know swinging is really good. Little Behr's don't know about laundry or stains or shipping costs or coupon codes.  They do know about grass and outside and crawling wicked fast.
Little Behr's don't know about hiding emotions or keeping secrets.  They tell you everything they're feeling.  "I AM HAAAPPY!"


Little Behr's don't know about L-lenses or savings or business investments or faster shutter speeds.  But they do know about shiny, and they would like so much to touch what is shiny.

Little Behr's don't know about betrayal or broken promises or lies.  Little Behr's do know that dada and mamma never ever drop him when he's swinging. He always wants to do it again.



Little Behr's don't know about calories or The Food Pyramid or BMI's or organic.  Little Behr's do know about eating, though.  They love eating.  Eating is a joy to Little Behr's.  However, they still aren't sure if leaves are good for eating.  They'll have to decide later.

Little Behr's don't know about enemies or fake or disingenuous friends.  They do know that Other Bear's are perfect for sneak attack hugs.


Little Behr's don't know about depression, heart-break or hate.  They do know about being sad... and it is very sad when the doggie walks by and doesn't stop to say hello.

Little Behr's don't know about grammar, sentence structure, clever delivery or wit.  But they do know about funny, and that NO one is funnier than dada.

Little Behr's don't know about jail, police men or law.  But Little Behr's do know what "no" means, even if they pretend they don't.

Little Behr's don't know about comparison, self-conciousness, or not measuring up.  They do have big ears, and they drool, and their hair grows un-evenly.  And Little Behr's don't even know how handsome! And cute! And, just, beautiful! they are!  They don't even know.

Little Behr's don't know about politics, or swear words, or judgmental Christian's, or car accidents, or terrorists, or homework, or stealing, or eternity.  But Little Behr's do know that being alone in the night isn't as good as being held by mama.  Come on, Little Behr's aren't stupid.  They also know about teeth.  And teeth hurt a lot.  So don't tell me they don't get it.

Little Behr's don't know about productivity, to-do lists, failure, haters, bills or commutes.  Little Behr's DO know about walking, though.  Even though Little Behr's choose to fall over and crawl when they could walk all on their own.  Sometimes Little Behr's just aren't ready for the next step.  And that's okay... because Little Behr's won't get to crawl around forever.

Little Behr's don't know about a lot of things.  But Little Behr's know a lot more than me, sometimes.   They know about trust, living in the moment, not worrying about the future, smiling whenever, and the joy of almost everything - especially bath time.

Thanks for all you've taught me, Little Behr.  I miss seeing you everyday.  I miss hearing your "Oh wooow!" exclamations.  I miss watching you do and try new things every single morning.  But I love you, Little Behr.  Happy 12 Months of life and living.  Stay little as long as you can, okay? Love, Aunt Titi

Five Guys Bags | Enjoy Writing

sweetest invitation, 

breaking the day in two

i'll wait for you

virginia moon - foo fighters

My mom carefully and happily my younger brother's returned school paper to me.  I think it's the best writing I've read all month.  Or maybe the most beautiful.  Or maybe just my favorite.  I don't know.  Most pre-teens, for a Thanksgiving assignment, would shoot off the easy ones "I'm thankful for my family, my friends, food and a home."  But then again, my brother isn't like most pre-teens.

I'm Thankful For... [By Little But Growing Brother]

I'm thankful for the sound when you open a Snapple, because it's refreshing and relaxing.  I'm thankful for every rainbow I see, because it's a promise from God.  I'm thankful for the people who rented our house, because they didn't use all the firewood we left and now we have some.  I'm thankful for my Call of Duty Modern Warfare games, because they give me some sense to the fact that our country could be attacked.  I'm thankful for today, because I got to experience another great day of my life.  I'm thankful for hearing my favorite song come on the radio because it relaxes me.  I'm thankful for the cold side of the pillow because it helps me sleep at night.  I'm thankful for every time something is cheaper than I thought it was, because it saves money.  I'm thankful for the amount of fries in a Five Guys bag, because it's more than I paid for.  I'm thankful for every time I'm early to somewhere, because I don't have to be nervous about being late.

Do you have any "random" but thoughtful grateful-s today?  Mine is probably the black shutters on our house.  I love black shutters. 

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!

Juliana Kate | Baby Portraits

A couple of years ago Alex + Lauren decided to hunker on down and be each other's always and one and only.   Just before two years of ooey-gooey-marriage-goodness ( ;) ), they found out that they were not just "man" and "wife" but "mama" and "daddy"!  Juliana Kate is now in their arms and in their home.
The first few days of Jules' life turned out to be quite scary.  Right away her breathing wasn't as strong as it should have been.  Baby One was whisked away to the NICU.  The next 48 hours included poor jaundice levels, a possible seizure and some - okay, maybe more - tears.   But now she is eight days old, fit as a fiddle, home and making their world sweeter with every passing hour.   While she was in the NICU Mama Lauren would come rub her cheeks and sing her pretty songs.  Even at this young age, she responds with pure delight when she hears her mother sing.  I didn't really believe Lauren when she told me she smiles a lot - especially during songs.  But, check it out for yourself!


We haven't even covered the beauty of this baby.  Eight days old and almost oddly flawless.  Not a wrinkle, pimple, rash, bump or funny new-baby "issue."  To be honest, I even think the little old man hound dog scrunches or zitty-fresh faces are super cute!  It's just part of being brand new!  But this little looker is made from porcelain.  I didn't edit a single thing from her face.  No blending or cloning or band-aiding.  And she's not even seven pounds.  Tiny, smooth and happy... gaaaah!



Alex and Lauren are dear with her.  He is a broad, dark, ex-hockey-playing, adventurous manly man.  She is sweet, tender, very careful and glowing.   They did everything as a team.  They both know her cries, one holds her head while the other lifts the shirts on, they know the "tricks" their little lady especially likes.



I just... I mean... right?






I love when babies make grumpy faces in their sleep.  I feel like that's my face when someone turns the light on in a dark room when I'm asleep.  I'm all "eeeeeeeh!" with my grump face ;)



Note to self: buy my daughters small white bows.  They're angelic.


Juliana was so much fun because she was SO alert.  She was looking around at all kinds of things!  She had my camera shutter to catch her attention, her mama calling her name, her dad walking around in the back-round... and she was very aware of all the "fuss."  She kept her eye on us... until, of course, that just got exhausting.


Welcome to your family and to this wild-giddy-yap thing called life.  We're so delighted that you're here and that God wanted to make you.  Your parents are super cool - they've prayed so much for you, and they are smitten with you.  I wish I had taken a video of them getting you ready for this pictures.  You probably would have laughed watching it someday... but then gotten a little teary, too.  They love you.  Oh!  And you have some crazy great aunts, uncles and cousins.  Yeah, you're gonna have a good life.


All my love and gentle squeezes! Muah!

The Smart Family | 2012

      With access to the water, the railroad and the sheltering mountains, the Union and the Confederacy pined for control of Harper's Ferry.  Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson eventually secured it for good but it took eight "back-and-forth's" between the two armies.  In intentionally and almost eerily frozen Civil War "feel," the town of Harper's Ferry has rich, sad and long history.  But for two little blue boys, the only part of the town that was very interesting at all was the train.

Well, the train that was supposed to come down the train-tracks.  They waited and watched.  But no train came.  The sun does not wait for little boys and their locomotive-hearts, so family pictures had to resume.  Bigger Boy kept his ears on the look-out... just in case.






Littler Boy (only in size) wanted to go back to the tracks and wait.  He begged with his eyes.




Our hopes were raised a few times!  We heard rumbling and horns! Maybe?!



No.  No train.  So dad, mom and Sister tried their best to distract and engage The Little Blue Boys.




Kisses and shoulder-rides and snuggling are good for distracting.

















It's been six years of documenting this family.  We started back before there were Blue Boys who loved trains.  We've been through maternity shoots, anniversary shoots, new baby shoots and a collection of family shoots.  This year just may have been my favorite, though.

Because after lots of smiling, listening, watching and tickling, as we were getting into our cars to leave... the train came :)  And there was just something that clamped my heart when I watched those kids rejoice over a train.  Maybe it was because in a few years they'll be "big boys" who don't spend the whole shoot distracted by big vehicles.  They keep growing every year.  And one of these years they won't be little at all.

But that wasn't this day.  This day they weren't fighting wars or figuring out parking or looking both ways when they crossed the street.  This day they were still small.  And we'll never forget it.

Enjoy Writing | Oh My My My | Part 13

"and the next time I see you, a new kind of hello, both our hearts have a secret  only both of us know." kathleen - josh ritter

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

The morning after our "change everything" phone call I woke up with flushed cheeks, a happy belly and some texts on my phone.  By the afternoon there was a bouquet of roses for me at the door (as well as Spring Mix bouquet for my mother.  Well played, Oklahoma dude.)  We sent each other pictures of each other.   We talked on his drive home from work.  It all felt back to "normal."  Almost like we had never stopped being in each other's lives at all.

The following day I drove to the beach with my mom, a couple siblings, aunt and cousins who were going on a cruise.  I was spending the night with them to drop them off and then take the car home.  I sent my boyf a text of my toes in the sand and said something like "I wish you were here!"  I should have known by now that if you give this boy a bait, he will bite (Christmas Eve anyone?)... but then again, maybe I did know that and that's why I said it.  His wheels were turning.  It is Friday.  I have to be back in Texas on Monday morning.  But there is nothing I *have* to do this weekend.  Start the fiery finger engines as I turned into a mad, one-focused, iPhone flight hunter.  Sitting in the hotel room with a half-napping, half-swim-suited family, I kept apologizing for being such a brat.   If anyone talked to me or asked me a question I either didn't hear them or would forget to answer.  The internet wasn't working on the laptop.  DUMB cheap hotel wifi!  Scroll scroll scroll on my phone.  Darn. No.  I didn't click that! I was scrolling! Go back. GO BACK. No. Not back two pages.  Kristen, can I have my shoes. Kristen. Kristen, my shoes?  Load load load load. Come on. KRISTEN.  "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!  I just HAVE to see if he can get a flight now!  I hate that I'm being so rude!"  Travelocity and Expedia did not have particularly smartphone friendly websites, and I was anything but patient.  My mom, the voice of reason, asked about the prices.  Are you sure you want to spend that much for such a  short trip?  If I found a flight that I thought was good, I'd call Caleb who was driving home from the Texas job site (nearly 3 hours from his house).  The call would cut out because stretches of midwest desert  like to be in charge and make new, desperate couples frustrated.  After far too long, we came to a noble solution for a semi-honorable price: Saturday morning he'd fly from Oklahoma to Orlando, Sunday night he'd leave Tampa and fly right to Texas.  We'd have about 30 hours together, but when you're young, stupid and in-like, that seems like a forever.

I couldn't sleep at all on Friday night.  I kept watching the clock.  Re-living the last few days.  Reading over our latest texts.  Because there were texts in my phone from him, once again.  Wondering what would happen.  Excitement was full, but my heart was raw.  I was smart enough to know that one letter and a couple of conversations isn't the recipe for a healthy, successful relationship.  We had a lot ahead of us.  And we already had so much behind us.  I couldn't help but travel down the what-if's on both ends of the line.  "What if this really works out?"  "What if we break-up 'again'?" "Oh my gosh.  I'm going to SEE him in seven hours!" I finally rested my eyes and brain for a few hours.

When the crew woke up, ready to sail the seas and explore new islands, I got dressed in my swimsuit and totally adorable white summer dress.  After dropping the cruise-group off (and saying good-bye to my mother who was SO bummed she was going to miss seeing [and grilling haha] Caleb!) I drove to Orlando to pick up Caleb.  One of my cousins was with me and on the drive I told her the whole long, detailed, girly version of the story.   My phone was set - well, what would YOUR phone be set on if you were waiting to hear that your new mister had landed where you were? - yeah, it was on high and vibrate and I still checked it at every red light or stop sign.  Just in case we had gone through a dead zone and my phone had missed it.  Just in case.

As I was parking, I got the word!  He was here.  I fluffed my hair.  Checked my arm-pits.  Hairy? Nope. Smelly? Not yet.  Seeing Caleb? YAA GURL!  The only slightly (read: completely) self-concious issue I had was the many, red, leporsy-like, bumps I had... everywhere.  I've never talked about my acne problems on this blog... I wasn't the girl who would break-out occasionally and then have it clear up in a few days.  I was the girl who had face texture like the moon and had more skin covered in zits than "normal," clear skin.  By a long shot.  You might be like "No! Your skin was never that bad! I don't remember seeing that in pictures?" Um. HELLO. I know how to use Photoshop!  And when my skin was at it's worst, I would hide all week and come out to go to church and then scurry back indoors.  The worst was baby-sitting, because at least adults and friends pity you enough to avoid saying anything.  Children are far too blunt ;) Anyways,  at the time, I was in the beginning stages of taking a very controversial drug, that you are only supposed to take once in your life but because my face was so bad, I was taking for a third time.  I was the stage "My flesh peels away like filo dough, my lips are crusty like french bread and my nose has bloody-crunchy-swords waging war inside of it."  The only way to combat the fish-scale-dryness was to baste myself in Aquaphor.  Half-an-inch around my lips, up in my nose, all over my hands.  Pretty!  To boot, my day in the sun where I expected to get a nice little glow - a kiss from the sky! a touch of bronze! a coating of summer! - turned into a nightmare. My skin reacted strongly to the sun and started breaking out in awful blisters (I was careful.  I wasn't out long. I just forgot that I was closer to the equator and the sun is much stronger in Florida than Maryland.  I'm pretty aware of what I can handle and how much sun my body can take.)  The medicine causes these reactions.  But, on top of that I was apparently attacked by demon beach bugs.  I counted over 100 bites on my legs.  To prove that I'm not exaggerating I am showing you - the world - disturbing and horrifying images.


Needless to say, I had to make sure my hair was properly puffed.  The sweet, tall, toned, beautiful boy I liked so much was coming to see one heck of a polka-dotted, greasy, burned little thing.  My hair was my only unaffected feature ;)  Why do I spend so much time detailing my body flaws?  To begin the series-of-laughable-events that take place when it comes to Caleb and Kristen.  We had the almost-missed flight at Christmas, and the delayed flights in January.  We had the "break-up" in February.  And now we're finally at the same airport, together, making our way to each other and I'm a Bible Times Outcast.  But un-hidably excited.  I raced into the baggage claim area, with my cousin trying to keep up.  I ran between the stairs and the claims.  I waited and scanned furiously when a new group descended.  Five, 10, 15 minutes later... still no Caleb.  He called.  Where are you?  I'm here! At the bottom of the stairs! Me too! Right at the bottom of the stairs!  My pretzal-knot stomach was only getting tighter by the word.  I'm at the bottom of the stairs too.  Right by the baggage claims.  And the bathrooms.  And the taxi booths.  I would not have missed you!  Caleb started reading off signs around him. And then I realized: I'm in the wrong terminal.  I took off to find where he was waiting for me.  And after a good seven-minute run/walk I found him at the bottom of the other stairs.  He ran to me when we spied each other.  He squeezed me in a warm hug when I got to him.  Oh it was good to be together.

I'm already trying to cram too much into this segment of the story, so I have to start to re-cap some of the events briefly.  We met up with my dad and the rest of my siblings at the beach.  My dad make a joke about "It's a good thing you're a man of grace now" (since we were at a bikini-filled beach haha I love my dad.)  Caleb just said "Yes, sir" and shook his hand.  After some playing in the ocean, Caleb and I took a walk to the corner of the beach.  In-between large rocks, a family of palm trees and soft white sand, he gave me a silver chain necklace and asked (for the third time) if I'd be his girlfriend.  He wanted to "look in my eyes and see me say it with my mouth."  I obviously said "yes!" and we hugged.  It was a very dear moment.  We didn't hold hands or kiss or even hug "around our waists."  Just over our shoulders ;)   It was April 23, and the day we consider our "dating anniversary." We were awkward and happy and red and feeling on top of the world.   That night we enjoyed a beautiful BBQ at home.  I got sick that night and Caleb brought me tea and onions (he heard onions were the secret to some ailment.  I have no idea.  But it was darn cute.  And he makes the best cup of tea I've ever had the pleasure to drink.)  We stayed up until almost four talking and enjoying each other's company.  Such bliss.  The next morning was Easter so we dressed all fancy and went with the family to church.  A big lunch, easter egg hunt, sweats and Mad Libs were in order when we got home.


Before I took Caleb to the airport he taught me how to play part of a duet to "Glorify Thy Name" on the piano.  We also went for a walk in the hot Florida rain.  He dropped me into a puddle and I screamed and kicked and tried to run away.  We sat on the curb and bemoaned the end of his trip.  We sometimes bumped shoulders and made our insides steam.  We flirted and prayed and had very much fun.

Before we knew it, it was time to leave.  Caleb packed his small, leather carry-bag back up.  I sang country songs while we drove.  Happy songs.  He bopped his head a little and smiled a lot.  He tried to pick up on some of the words.  But he didn't know many country songs.  Hardly any.  I told him he needed to learn.  He smiled.  I drove.  And smiled back.  Awkward and happy and sad and on the cusp of a great love story.  It was magical.

Caleb left for Oklahoma, and I left for Maryland a few days later.  I had a wedding to shoot on April 29 and I was flying to London for a European adventure on May 1.  I would be gone until May 12.  I had a wedding to shoot on May 15.   It was busy... and part of me wanted to cancel everything and buy some Ariat's and drive until the roads turned red.  But another part of me had a hunch that this might be my last summer "like this" ever.  I still lived in my beautiful, window-ed, white apartment.  I traveled often.  Work was wonderful.  I went pretty much wherever I wanted to go, when I wanted to.  I stayed up late, tried new things, met new people, shopped, dreamed.  I couldn't help but wonder - and maybe even fear - if this lifestyle was in the beginning stages of changing forever.  If I was writing the last sentences in a chapter, only to be re-read as a strong, good memory.  

Jamie, my Canadian best friend, met me in London.   Dublin, St. Andrews (the remarkable university-town where Prince William and Kate met), Belfast and Edinburgh awaited us.  Ireland and Scotland were our oysters.   With all kinds of timezone difference, unpredictable service and internet, and desire to make the MOST of this trip I possibly could, Caleb and I had no idea how we'd be able to keep in touch.  E-mails, of course.  Maybe an occasional Skype call?  The night before I left we talked extra long.  The moment I sat on the plane, texting him the final time for 12 days, I got really emotional.  I twisted my silver chain in my fingers and thought about the future and the past.  Before long, I was walking to a hotel on the other side of the ocean to find my travel-friend.  And we spent the next almost-two-weeks doing this:


















Communication was actually even harder than I thought it would be.  Any long-distance couple knows how it goes.  You make plans to talk, something happens, you can't talk when you plan.  Or you can, for only 8 minutes... and then the service cuts out and someone has to go.   You never have time to really talk and tell stories and ask questions and hear jokes.  You just repeat the same basic lines over and over, and try to update a little bit.  "I miss you." "I can't wait to be closer to you." "It's beautiful here... I wish you were with me." "I have so many stories to tell you." "Today was saw beautiful cliffs and countryside.  Ate in a pub." "Come back to me." "Have fun!" "I am!" "I like you." "I like you, too." "Good-bye." "...bye."

This particular morning I woke up around 4:30 am and ran a block to our hotel lobby where there was free wifi.  The rooms didn't have wifi, and were spread out over a couple blocks.  We Face-Timed for not even two minutes.  But it was THE best getting to see and hear him.

It worked out for good, however.  Because our inability to talk long and late gave Caleb enough time to buy a truck, buy an iPhone and GPS, pack his belongings and tools, get a job in Maryland and make arrangements for where to live.  And I literally could not help him at all.
No matter how long a date you're waiting for seems to take, it always comes.  Days always end.  Mornings always begin.  And eventually you get there.  I did get home from Europe.  I did get to talk to Cowboy Sir for longer than two minutes.  I did start to "get ready" for his arrival (aka: get all the cute clothes clean NOW.) The day finally did come where he drove off his farm, waved good-bye to his people and set off for a month or so with me.  The drive is 24 hours and he left Saturday morning.  I was shooting a wedding at Shade Tree and Evergreen on Sunday, so it thankfully kept me (kind of) preoccupied while I anticipated his arrival.  Ellie, my friend and second-shooter, kept me sane by doing little happy dances for me.  Becca laughed at my texts about my arms falling off. (It was, by the way, the first time I'd ever had butterflies in my arms.  Ornery little creatures.)  And, eventually, the wedding was over and I was headed home.  I had to wait about two hours.  I Windex-ed everything one more time.  I made a hearty meal of wine-braised beef, egg noodles and green beans.  I vacuumed, again.  I put on a light, soft black dress with white and purple flowers and little buttons.  I brushed my teeth a few times.   And then... he was here.  He pulled up to the front of my building and walked up to  my second-story front door.  I heard a sturdy knock and JUMPED up.  I opened the door and saw a sweet smile, a bouquet of wild flowers (he stopped on the side of the highway and picked them for me) and the rest of my life.   After a tour of his truck, dinner and dessert and a far-too-quick goodbye, he went to unpack at his temporary home, The Remsnyder's House.  He had to get some sleep before his first day of work and he had some details to take care of before our first date on Monday night ;)  I fell asleep in a peaceful glow and tried to imagine what surprise he had in store for me tomorrow.  This was good.  This felt good.  Next segment I'll detail more of my heart-journal-emotions, but for today all was well.  
I had an exciting day ahead of me.  One bride meeting, two errands, three outfits to choose between, four thousand thoughts to sort through, five nails on each hand to paint and six o'clock pm to await.   Caleb had been a sweet, sneaky fellow.  While I was in Europe he got in touch with my parents and best friends and started asking for date ideas.  He didn't know the area at all, and barely knew where to start.  He wanted to go somewhere meaningful to me.  He didn't want to make it big like a proposal.  Somehow he decided to go on a picnic to Strong Mansion, the place where I shot my first wedding (very special to me.)  He took care of the basket, the pretty picnic blanket, the bouquet of roses, fresh strawberries and lots of sugar-y, sparkly drinks... oh! and expensive bottled water.  My parents tipped him off that my favorite deli was near Sugarloaf, so he planned to stop there to pick up dinner.   What the slow-paced lad didn't know was: Maryland traffic.  He didn't realize that "ten miles away" didn't equal "ten minutes away."  He left work at 4:30 and made a stop at the grocery store before going home to shower.   That process took 45 minutes instead of the planned 15 minutes.  Caleb got home in a boyfriend-flurry.  Janet and Becca were there, and they laughed and helped him organize himself.  He showered and obsessed about trying to pick a casual yet "I care" outfit.  The whole thing just took much longer than he planned, and he showed up 20 minutes late.  I gave him a hard time, because teasing and sarcasm is my natural response to being nervous  and excited.  I so wish my "natural" was kind and gentle. Reassuring.  No.  I'm the one who laughs when someone gets hurt.  Curse my instincts!  
Caleb fumbled with his GPS when he got in the car. "Darn, I meant to put the addresses in here.  I don't know how to get to where we're going.  I have the addresses though!"  I laughed as a slid into the passenger seat (NOT the middle of the bench seat) and asked him where we were going.  I'd direct him.  "Well, to start, Pasquale's.  We're going to pick-up dinner."  I told that we were about 25 minutes away.    So he drove on, and turned on his ipod.  He played "Felt Good On My Lips" by Tim McGraw.  We drove into our Maryland countryside, singing our hearts out, with the windows down.   When the song was done he grinned at me.  "Did you notice?"  Notice what?  "... You didn't notice."  Oh no!  I'm the worst!  Notice what?  Hair-cut? Was there a present in here I was missing? "I knew all the words to that song," he pitifully informed me.  OH! WHY! Yes! You did! I did... notice! "I practiced it the whole ride up here.  I'm sick of that song.  But you told me to learn country songs so I could sing with you in the car.  And I know all the words."  Bless his heart.  And bless mine, which was thumping a little faster.  [Caleb walked up as I was typing this paragraph and said "You wouldn't look at me.  You wouldn't look at me straight in the eyes.  I'd try to sneak glances at you while I was driving or when we were singing.  You stared straight ahead. Especially at the part of the song that says 'I wanna go crazy with YOU!' You'd look out the window then." Hahahah.]
After ordering our roast beef sandwiches, potato salad and chips, we Young Thang's drove even deeper into the country, through winding green roads, lined with fences, farms and tunnels of trees.  The road spits out onto a curvier road, leading to the mountain.  Strong Mansion sits half-way up this mountain.  It was just after 7:00 on a summer night, and we were on our third round of "Felt Good On My Lips" and the sun was thinking about setting and time stood very, very still.  We pulled into the parking lot at Strong.  And I started to get worried.  "Are you sure we're allowed to be here?  Do you have to have permission?  We better eat quickly, because we have to leave when the sun goes down."  Caleb laughed and told me to calm the heck down.  He told me that "Of course we can be here! Why not? And why would we need to leave when the sun goes down?"  Cue my rant about Maryland and Oklahoma being different and that Maryland State Parks close at sunset and that police will come get you if you stay past dark and we could be trespassing on private property which would get us in really big trouble and maybe we should just eat in the truck.  Caleb rolled his eyes and walked on.  "Come on, crazy.  Let's find a spot to eat. WHAT'S THAT?!" "WHAT?!" "Is it the police?!" "Shut up."

We chose to eat in Strong Mansion's neighbor's back yard.  Strong Mansion is a wedding and event venue, but the mansion next door is just a private house.  Where someone lives.  Caleb loved the tunnel of trees and the view of the gardens, so he wanted to eat... in someone else's backyard.  Cue my other rant about someone lives here and we definitely do not have permission to be here, unless you talked to the owners of this house, which I don't even know who they are, like, I know you could call the owner at Strong Mansion because their number is on their website but we don't know who lives in this house maybe you should knock on the door?

Caleb arranged the feast while I fretted.  "CALM down.  Jeez!  I thought you were adventurous!  You'll go to Europe alone and miss trains and walk down dangerous alleys in other countries, but you can't sit on a mountain and have a picnic with me?"  I took the hint.

I soothed myself by taking pictures before it was "ruined" and all eaten.  I was too nervous to eat much.  A scenario that rarely happens to me.  Caleb asked about my Europe stories.  Half-a-sandwich, a few sips of wine, and some tales later I was feeling very calm and peaceful.  We were laughing and recounting our latest travels.  Caleb finished his dinner and I wasn't going to eat anymore, so he suggested we go explore.  He kicked off his ugly black shoes and wanted to race me to the Private Mansion.  Sure, I'll race you.  I'm wicked fast!  He let me think I had the lead for a while and then whipped my rump in a terrible loss ;)  I wanted to race back to the blanket.  He had other ideas.  He wanted to check out this gorgeous, historic house.  He started walking up the stairs to the back-patio.  My insides trembled.  But I tried to be adventurous and go with him.  He then stood up and walked up on the hand-rail, balancing confidently.  I went up the stairs.  He started peaking into the windows.  "Wow.  This house is amazing.  And empty!  Look at that crown moulding!" I looked and then looked for security cameras.  He jumped from one sill to another.  Climbed on ledge and balcony.  Hid from me once to scare me.  Once I felt sure no one was around, I started playing more freely with him.  I loved his care-free, relaxed spirit.  I love that he didn't flinch when he had an idea.  He just did it.  I thought of Noah laying in the street with Ally telling her "Trust.  You need to learn to trust."




All of a sudden I realized it was dark.  I tricked him into racing me back to the picnic blanket.  I told him we should come back in the daylight so we could discover more.  But there was nothing else we could see in the dark.  Motion-activated flood lights popped on when we left.  I turned white as a ghost.  Back at the picnic area, away from any lights, he gave me a very nice hug.  My bare feet were in the cold grass.  My head didn't reach his chin.  He told me that he loved doing anything with me.  And that he was going to prove himself to me.  When he wasn't talking the only thing I could hear was his heart-beating.

"HEEEEEY! HEEEEEEEEEY! HEY YOU!"

Someone was screaming from the woods.  I couldn't see Caleb's face in front me anymore, and we couldn't tell where the yell was coming from.

"HEEEEY! I KNOW YOU'RE THERE! HEEEEY!"

I shook Caleb and told him to not go anywhere.  Please don't leave me.  Please stay here.  What should we do? Answer him? What if he has a knife?

The next "HEEEY!" came over a loud-speaker, complete with red and blue swirling lights.  Their was a police car next to Caleb's truck in the parking lot, and he was after us.  I SCREAMED at Caleb to get up there and talk to him!  Tell him we're sorry!  We're leaving! Act nice! I TOLD you police will come!  MARYLAND ISN'T LIKE OKLAHOMA. Caleb said "Come with me? I don't want to leave you... You told me..." "GOOOO. NOW! HURRY!"  With no shoes on, he went charging through trees, calling back to and waving at the police man.  I stayed behind in the dark and tried to grab all of our dinner.  It was completely black, so I tried to do mental inventory as a I felt around and tossed bottles and cups and blankets into the basket.  I grabbed a handful of potato salad right before I found my shoes.  I could hear Caleb rustling through the trees.  "HEEEEY!  WHO ARE YOU? HEEEEEY!" "I'm sorry, sir!" I grabbed my boots with my mayo-hand and carried the wreck of a basket in the the other.  I stepped in roast beef and a tomato while I fled.  Caleb's ugly shoes were under my arms and my heart was throbbing inside my face.  I was picturing a fine.  Probably just a fine.  Maybe if he's nice he'll just give us a warning.  God, help him not be a brat-cop.  As I tried to maneuver the forest alone, I heard one final "HEEEEY!" and then could see up ahead that Caleb and the cop were chatting.  Sparkling cider fell out of the basket and started rolling back down the hill.  I hoped he wasn't getting put into hand-cuffs.  Before I even got to Caleb, the police care drove away.  "Kristen!  Don't worry! He was so nice! It's okay! It's okay!"  Out of breath and sweaty, he met me in the trees and took the basket.

When we got to the parking lot and some light, I saw that Caleb's eyes were as big as tractor tires.  My shirt was wet from opened water bottles.  Our hearts punched us inside our chests.  I whispered to God a praise about not getting arrested. We stared at each other for a few seconds and then erupted into laughter.  He leaned onto the truck and I knelt on the gravel.  We howled and shook our heads. With cherry smiles we dumped our dinner in the back of his pick-up, I sat in the middle seat and he drove me home.

"WhoooaOOooa, how sweet it is."

to be continued...

A Breakfast Birthday For Audrey | Enjoy Making

you'll never know dear 
how much i love you ricky nelson - you are my sunshine A few weekends ago, Little Audrey turned three whole years old.   She's been daintily, cautiously, sweetly keeping us in stitches, exploring this big-bad-world and wrapping her around her finger since day one.  I had nothing to do with this party other than attending :)  All credit for the Saturday morning, breakfast-birthday goes to Mama Janet and her beautiful mind.


We started the fun off right with scrambled eggs (and fixings!), bacon, fried potatoes and fresh fruit.


There was also tasty "breakfast sushi" that was gobbled up fast.  (Peanut butter a peeled, whole banana.  Roll the banana in rice-krispies and slice!)

But the centerpiece of the morning was obviously the donut cake.

Jan had a classy color-scheme: baby pink and seafoam, with black, gold and white.  She decorated old cans and filled them with baby's breath and succulents.




She also whipped out the embosser a time or two for this party.  I think I know what my next craft purchase is going to be ;)






Ladies of the hour!

So darling and lovely, Jan. Like always.

After food, the kids played a rousing game of Bite The Donut.  It was pretty funny ;)


The cheering squad!


A more vicious approach:


"Behr do it?!"





"Yeeess!"

Next was candles and "cake" - Audrey was really thrilled by this part of the day :)


A few gifts wrapped the morning off nicely (hee. hee.)




Audrey's biggest surprise of the day was her own circus tent, from Uncle KyKy.



We ended the party with our own bags of popcorn and more sweet memories of the one-and-only Audrey.


(Audrey's face is brought to you by the phrase "biiirthday poooop!" which was somehow her favorite thing to say that day?  Oh little girl.)

The Morris' love all of you Remmies!  Here's to many, many more kids, their birthday's and celebrations to come :)

A Very Sweet Thanksgiving Treat from The Morris Family

“do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; 
remember that what you now have was once 
among the things you only hoped for.” 
epicurious 



This year Caleb and I just... are especially grateful.  My mom's cancer number when from 54 to ZERO.  We are married.  Our wedding was thrilling and we have never felt so loved.  We both have great jobs that we love.  My family moved home.  We have a HUGE and beautiful apartment.  We are finding our way as our own little family.  We're coaching together with my dad.  We have incredible friends and family all over the country and world.  We eat well.   And we wanted to share our favorite Thanksgiving Treat this year... don't be turned-off by the ingredients.  I promise it's really really good ;)
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Yup.  As this current school year comes to an end, and pools open and summer vacation starts, we're going to introduce a little person to its life and we are going to be its parents (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).  We are crazy-wicked-thrilled to know, have and love this new baby, gift and friend.  We need you, sweet child, and know that your life already has and will continue to change us forever.  We love to love you and can't stand this wait ;)  We're dying to look at your eyes, make fun of your noises and hold you while you laugh and cry.  Now I'm going to cry.  (Don't worry... I do that a lot now.  It's one of your many "special blessings" to my body ;) haha)








I've tried to imagine for decades what it will be like to be a wife and mama.  This year I'm especially grateful for being able to experience what was once "something I only hoped for."

Happy Thanksgiving!