Lindsay Crandall

Movin' On

2011-08-29T14:07:00.000-05:00

What's the fun news? I'm moving over to my own website: lindsaycrandall.com. There you'll be able to find new blog entries, links to my writing, and galleries of my photos.

Be forewarned, though, that the portfolio section still has some glitches to be worked out. I've engaged it in a wrestling match that I seem to be losing. I'm hoping to have the kinks worked out soon.

Go take a peek and let me know what you think.

August Break is Almost Over

2011-08-26T12:15:00.000-05:00

Today is my last August Break post.

Monday I have some fun news to share.

Today's news is that my last Curator contribution went up today, a reprint of my essay, "Why I Shoot Film." I will very occasionally write for The Curator, but it's time for me to move on to other projects.

And let me say thank you to all of you who read my work and send encouragement. As always, I'm grateful.

Happy weekend!

The Fish Hatchery

2011-08-25T13:28:00.000-05:00

On August Break.

Joy!

2011-08-24T13:11:00.000-05:00

On August Break.

Teacup, Reflection

2011-08-22T18:43:00.002-05:00

On August Break.

Cafe Window

2011-08-20T14:18:00.002-05:00

On August Break.

Feeding the Ducks, Again

2011-08-18T12:25:00.002-05:00

On August Break.

Arcade Gamin'

2011-08-17T15:24:00.000-05:00

On August Break.

The Babies

2011-08-16T08:54:00.002-05:00

On August Break.

Peeking Out

2011-08-12T18:11:00.003-05:00

On August Break.

At Day's End

2011-08-11T15:46:00.000-05:00

On August Break.

Say cheese!

2011-08-10T09:14:00.000-05:00

On August Break.

Breakfast, Cafe

2011-08-09T16:04:00.002-05:00

On August Break.

At the Pier

2011-08-08T17:01:00.000-05:00

This week, I'm on August Break.

Nosy Little Neighbor

2011-08-05T16:06:00.000-05:00

I'm on August Break.

Thankful For

2011-08-04T07:45:00.000-05:00

It's a rainy afternoon and I am sitting on the couch, book in hand. Lily looks at me and says, "I'm Lily!" I shoot Adam a smile and tell her, "Yes, you are."

I start turning pages and she climbs up into my lap with a book she frequently pulls off the bookshelf. I tell her, "Read your book and I'll read mine," and we sit together reading. I read about gratitude and joy; she points to Roman numerals and makes stories of her own.

She climbs down and I look up from my book to see her and Adam sitting at the dining room table. He is playing a game on the computer and she is coloring in a coloring book. I want to take a picture but I don't. Instead I pretend to read and listen as they chat. "What color crayon are you using?" he asks. She fervently continues coloring with the purple crayon.

I read about thankfulness and joy and grace and realize that the memory of what I am reading will be tied to this quiet family afternoon. I have much to be thankful for, but I need to dwell more in gratitude. This moment seems a good place to start.

Gratitude

2011-08-03T13:09:00.001-05:00

One thing I forgot to mention about all this online business: gratitude.

I started reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts. As I read my mind drifted away to how this book found its way into my hands. A friend mentioned Ann's blog, A Holy Experience, and another posted about the book. Then I read the chapter Ann wrote in The Spirit of Food and finally started reading her blog. Then I read another post about the book, then another. And today I picked it up from the library.

This isn't the first book that's found its way to me like this. In fact, much of what I've read and learned over the years has been because of my little online community, those kindred spirits who seems to always offer support and kindness when it's needed. Maybe I'm being a bit overly romantic here, but it's good to have a place to return to when the world can be so harsh, a place that reminds me that His mercies really are new every morning.

I need that reminder. I am grateful for it.

I'm Still Here

2011-08-02T18:29:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I wonder why I have a blog. Trying to make sense of where I should find my value leads me to question why I keep putting myself out there. So I wade through the doubt to find what's good. The truth is I didn't start this blog for anyone else to read. I started it because I needed a place to keep track of my daily goings-on. I needed a place to cobble together a story about the beautiful things in my life. Along the way people have read and commented. I've made some friends whose encouragement seems endless. I have grown as a writer and photographer and, most importantly, as a person. And I continue to blog just because. I would keep doing it even if no one else looked at it but me.

A friend once sent me this quote:

"Art kept only for oneself is selfish. As human beings, we don't exist in a vacuum; we exist in communities and societies that rightfully demand dues. It's not an option to give those dues; it's a duty."

This space is one of many where I share what I consider to be my art. And there is the sprinkling in of my life, which in its own messy way cannot be separate from whatever I create. What I want for my life is to reflect a small portion of the beauty of the Creator. And that is why I'm still here.

We Were at the Lake and Now We're Back

2011-08-01T18:19:00.003-05:00

Determining My Worth

2011-07-22T13:34:00.000-05:00

Here's something that I struggle with: my accomplishments determining my self-worth. Let me explain.

I first wanted to be a writer because I loved writing. Then I wanted to be published so I could feel validated. Then I was published and people said nice things to me, and I felt good about myself. I first wanted to be a photographer because I liked taking pictures. Then I started posting my photography on the internet and people said nice things to me, and I felt good about myself.

Then I had a baby and realized I couldn't do it all. I inflated my online identity so people would think I was still awesome, and I continued to work even though sometimes it was killing me. When I would get little or no feedback, I was crushed. I needed the recognition.

It all came to a head when I realized I couldn't keep up. Working to get accolades wasn't adding to my quality of life; it was actually detracting from it.

So I stopped. I took a break from writing, decided that I wasn't going to teach anymore, and got a small job working behind the scenes for a website. Of course, this all happened in tandem with our move. In New York, I was determined to slow down, be a stay-at-home mom, and work part-time from home. I also cut way back on my social networking, especially Facebook, which seemed to propel this need for feedback.

When I read The Spirit of Food, I would read through each writer's bio before reading his or her essay. After a while the bios all started to look the same: where the writer went to school, where the writer has been published, what the writer does for employment. These are important components to each writer's life, but when listed one after another, it all starts looking the same. I thought a lot about what my bio would look like, or what it should look like.

Today's Curator includes an essay where the writer looks closer at this idea in the context of blogs and the way the glimpse they provide into other people's lives can diminish our feelings of self-worth:

The height of my Womanhood is not measured by what I do, but who I am. The quality of my character is not measured with a yardstick, nor by the height of my tomato plants. The real fruit of life is not found in traffic numbers or tutorials, but in the qualitative depth of living in love.

It's taken me a long time to finally accept that my value as a person is steeped in my character and in God. Those things don't require anyone to give me feedback and say nice things about me; they require me to love others and accept myself. Whether I ever publish another essay or post another photograph is a separate issue, one that shouldn't determine my value or worth.

It's Hard Being Two

2011-07-19T18:34:00.000-05:00

Lily and I pulled up to the library this morning thirty minutes before it opened. Luckily there's a playground right behind the building, so she swung and we slid until we could go inside. Then we spent over an hour in the library playing on the computer, browsing books, and coloring. When we got home, Lily reached up for my hand and said, "I'm tired." I was tired too.

After a three-hour-plus nap, I woke her. Then it was snack, drink, and toddler terribleness: the uncontrollable crying, the disobedience, the asking to be put into jammies at four o'clock. And, lately, there's something about the thirty minutes or so before dinner that makes Lily absolutely lose it. We're all struggling to keep up.

Today we went round and round about her hitting the dog. I kept trying to remind myself to be gentle with her, but continually correcting the same behavior over and over takes it toll. Recently I read an essay by a woman about embracing who we are as mothers. We are not the women we used to be, and the need to find ourselves outside of our relationships with our husbands or children is futile because they reflect who we are now; they are who we are.

Who I am now is so different than I was two years ago before I was a mother and incomprehensibly different than six years ago before I was a wife. Our move back "home" has only exasperated that point. I am not who I was when I left. When I left I was a grad student who fell in love; I was a writer with no plan. Now I am so much more, and I am so much more because of Adam and because of Lily. Who knew that I would change so much?

Still, being the mother of a toddler is taxing. I went back to look up this passage from The Baby Whisperer for Toddlers (which I read so long ago, I'm not sure I remember much). It's an email from a mom to the baby whisperer:

One way that we were able to deal with the "terrible two's," as they have so ineptly been labeled, is to call them "the terrific two's." I thought of my son as having PMS round the clock for a year and was able to identify with his tantrums, meltdowns, and "poor" behavior. I thought of myself during PMS and how helpless I feel, how hormonal I am, and how my emotions are up one minute and down the next. Just think, being two years old and having no idea why you feel the way you do and all these people getting mad or frustrated with you and you can't explain how you feel or what you really want because you have no stinking idea how to feel better! I'm 32 and know what I'm going through, and still feel as though I can't handle it. I cannot even begin to imagine how a toddler feels. So we would just pray and love our son through it all. We had given him a lot of nurturing beforehand and so to love him through the frustrations, to redirect him when he was in danger, to reason with him as best we could, and to support each other through it all was just another simple progression.

In the moment, it is difficult to keep this in mind, but now is the time for loving and training and correcting. Even though the end of the day may leave me wanting to throw my hands up in the air, it also leaves me with a little hand placed in mine as we watch another episode of Sesame Street and work our way toward bedtime. As hard as it can get, it can get just as sweet. That is a very good thing.

How to Hang Photo Wires

2011-07-18T07:23:00.000-05:00

It's no secret: I like to hang things on strings. Especially photos. At the end of my life, I want someone to find a shoebox of photos in the back of my attic that show that I lived my life well. So getting prints of my photos is important.

Displaying my photos is also important. Looking at the computer is one thing, but sitting on my couch and glancing at them is another. So when I saw the long wall in the dining room that faced the couch where I'd spend a lot of my time, I knew that's where I wanted to hang a photo wire. I can look at it all day and swap it out whenever I want. Handy.

Hanging one is easy. You need twine (or actual wire, if you're so inclined), a few nails, a yard stick or level or something to help you line up your nails (I used our Swiffer's handle), and clothespins. Figure out how far apart you want your nails and center them on the wall -- eyeballing usually works, but you need a helper. Mark the wall with pencil, hammer your nails, and tie off one side of your twine. Leave some give for your swoop and loosely tie the other side, then start hanging the photos to see how much give you have in your twine and how much of a swoop you want. Adjust from there.

When it's how you'd like it, tie the knots tight and position your photos. It's easiest to get the pictures to hang straight if you clip the photo and the twine into the lowest part of the clothespin (below the gap where the clothesline should go). It will give you the most control so you're photos aren't hanging this way and that.

See how simple (and colorful) that was?

Another Post from the Lake

2011-07-14T17:39:00.001-05:00

So here we are, after another chaotic day. It's good to have a place to go, somewhere to rest and relax, where we can enjoy glory and beauty and each other. I am so thankful.

Last night's sunset was wild. I can't wait to see tonight's!

The Spirit of Food

2011-07-12T19:15:00.001-05:00

My copy of The Spirit of Food came just in time for our move. I read it through our stay at Adam's parents' house, in small pieces when I could cobble together a contemplative moment. Many of the essays required just that as they explored the relationship between food and faith: how we come to the table, what we eat, when we fast, and how we feast.

As a person whose tastes are about as uncultured as they can be, I am endlessly fascinated by those who take eating and cooking seriously. I secretly want to be a foodie, but I don't have the desire and attention required to develop into one. I pride myself on my ability to make simple foods and to revel in their simplicity, but I have always thought of food as fuel and not as an experience of camaraderie and love.

Many of the essays in The Spirit of Food meditate on the table and coming together to break bread, two things where, as a wife and mother, I try to focus my attention. We sit down, we give thanks, we eat together. We are practicing what we hopefully remain a family habit for years to come. This inward hospitality will affect our relationships with each other and God.

Of the several books on food I've read, as part of my secret ambition of being a foodie, none have paired food with faith. Though I appreciate a collection that does, reading essay after essay that hammered home the same ideas and used the same scriptures to make their points made me able to only handle a bit at a time. However, I think this may be a good thing: this isn't a book to be rushed through, but rather (for lack of a better term) chewed on. A slow perusal is necessary to process and internalize what's being said.

What resonated most with me was the writing itself, as essays written by talented writers always do. They reminded me of the importance of telling my story, not only about food but about my life. The essays that resonated most with me were the first-person accounts, the glimpses into the writers' inner lives. Some essays are meant to be read for information, while others leave the reader with more. It's that interpersonal connection that draws me most to this collection, that when I walk away from reading it I am reassured that the world is a beautiful place and that I am not alone in it.

Hot Links

2011-07-11T18:52:00.000-05:00

If I thought we were going to escape the heat by moving north, I was wrong. The other night, when Lily wouldn't fall asleep for anything, I called my dad to see if he would bring over his air conditioner window unit. Thankfully he did and thankfully Lily went right to sleep after we installed it. Afterward he stood in our foyer and said that he didn't know how they did it when I was a kid, except that they didn't know the difference. Back then, few people had air conditioners and for so many summers, we suffered through the stuffiness that comes with a house that baked in the sun all day.

Then I moved south and got spoiled by air conditioning.

Now we have an air conditioning unit in each upstairs bedroom, but the bottom floor is sticky and hot. Every fan in the house is at full speed and cooking is not an option. Today it was ninety degrees. In a few days it will even out again.

So, I thought a few links were in order. Here's what I've been into lately:

This essay makes me want to start writing letters again.

Slow parenting? I like this idea. A lot.

Adele has been on constant rotation in our house. This song give me goosebumps every time. This one makes me get up and dance every time.

I want to make one of these and hang it over my bed. And then make another for the living room, and another as a present. Looks simple enough, doesn't it?

And I have high ambitions of knitting this before autumn.

This weekend I got not one but two "tattoos", both on my left hand. The first was a smiley face; the second, a house. Both were from the Corn Hill Arts Festival. Lily liked turning my hand over and checking my tattoos; I liked washing them off.

I'm gleefully into Howards End, but can't help but compare it to Zadie Smith's On Beauty. Not sure if that's a good thing yet.

Flowers on Film

2011-07-09T17:55:00.000-05:00

Of the three rolls of film I got back recently, which comprise eighty-four or so shots, the number of photos of flowers was a bit astounding to me. These number nine and, yes, there are more. I think having a second spring sent me into a flower-seeking frenzy, but it might have more to do with my lack of inspiration when we first arrived. Flowers are easy and pretty and photogenic. However, I now realize that if you've seen one flower, you've seen them all. Oh, well.

Settling In

2011-07-08T18:46:00.000-05:00

We have been in our new home for four days. When I walked into the house for the first time, I sat down on the green couch and almost cried. I know this will probably sound superficial, but I missed my stuff. I missed my couch. I missed my plates. I missed the dinged-up old dresser. I missed our older-than-dirt TV. Why? Because they are ours, because they mean we are home.

Almost all of the boxes are unpacked. Some of the pictures have been hung. Most importantly, the books have been organized. We are home, indeed.

Gentleness

2011-07-01T18:16:00.000-05:00

Today was yet another in a series of days that began too early, and today was the earliest of all. A few minutes before five o'clock, Lily woke calling for me. And she wouldn't go back to sleep. At six we finally got up. She was overtired and I was overtired and, by the time Adam returned from work at 7:45, I had already had my fill.

My first impulse when tired is to be sharp, impatient, and rude. This doesn't work with a toddler. It doesn't work with other people either, but other people are able to back off and leave me alone. My daughter can't, and she shouldn't have to. I snapped at her once and realized I had to hold it together. I clung to a word I think of often when mothering: gentleness. Being gentle with Lily is always easier, for her and me. That I should be gentle with everyone, not only my child, is something I'm having to learn, long after I should have learned it and long after I knew that it is always the better way. "Let your gentleness be evident to all" reverberates in my mind.

We ended up spending the afternoon feeding the ducks and walking along the canal. We walked to cafe, ordered a coffee and chocolate milk, and waited for a train to pass so Lily could tell me, "I love choo choos." On the way back, I pushed her stroller and she walked. She waved and said hi to everyone we met. She petted dogs and counted bicycles, and I reminded myself to smile and simply enjoy this. I may be tired as all get out, but it shouldn't overshadow this beautiful life. This little girl, who also was tired, was making the best of it, living in the moment like only a small child can.

In the Country

2011-06-30T18:08:00.001-05:00

Living in the country has been a fantasy of mine. Ever since I read Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, I wanted to live in a farmhouse on a country road with a coop of chickens and an extensive vegetable garden. I also like the idea of solitude and the romanticism of living off the land. When Adam and I have talked about buying a house, we have often talked about a house in the country.

Then we moved back to New York and have lived in the (semi) country, and I have quickly realized that I'm more of a city girl than I thought. Of course, here there are no chickens or livestock to tend to, no gardening to do, no tractors to ride, no good country things to keep us busy. Instead we have a thirty minute ride to get just about anywhere, which makes simple tasks like running to the grocery store a huge annoyance. I miss being able to walk everywhere or to run down the street for a bottle of wine in less than ten minutes. At least the scenery on these long rides is pretty.

So it seems fitting that we'll be urban-dwellers once again, though I can't totally rule out the possibility of a farmhouse in the future. Maybe in a few years. I do want my own chickens, after all.

Learn to Love the Questions

2011-06-29T13:29:00.001-05:00

I'm not sure what it is about New York, but we always end up near the water. We set out to feed ducks, got sidetracked at the photography store where I bought a new (awesome!) lens for my camera, and ended up wandering by the creek in the park. It's a chilly day for the end of June.

Yesterday an email from one of my professors reminded me to try to enjoy the uncertainty of things and, as Rilke says, to learn to love the questions. The Rilke quote is an important reminder:

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.

A Bluebird and ATV

2011-06-28T07:29:00.000-05:00

Lily asks to go out on the deck and I agree: we should get some fresh air before dinner. I grab a book, one I've been working through for weeks and that I'm determined to finish before we move. The guilt that I'm not doing even the littlest of things like reading has weighed heavily on me. A few weeks ago I let it go, but it still creeps back. I sit, open to the next page, and begin.

The neighbor boy is riding around the yard on his ATV. "A motorcycle," says Lily. "Sure," I say. With one eye on the page, I am attempting to follow what I'm reading. "Where did it go?" she asks. The boy drove around the back of his house. "He'll be back," I say. And then he is, and she is surprised. We have the same conversation several times as he drives from the front to the back. I put down the book; this is just too important.

A bluebird has nested in the birdhouse on the deck. I've seen it time and again and, even as I write this, he is perched on the post just outside the window. He swoops and dives from one tree to the next. His godawful song is annoying as can be, but his color. I am stunned. My book sits in my lap, and I am watching a nine year-old ride an ATV and a bluebird fly from tree to tree, all with my daughter who chatters on and on.

Sally Clarkson writes often about how important it is to be attentive, not just to a child but to the world around us. The dishes can wait, the laundry can wait, the reading can wait. But the magnificence of life maybe cannot wait. Surely I have seen dozens of bluebirds. Surely the neighbor boy will be back on his ATV today. This does not make this moment any less important or special. A long time ago, I was reminded that sometimes it's important to do less. Now is certainly one of those times.

Passing the Time

2011-06-27T12:56:00.000-05:00

At farmers markets gathering bread and cheese to add to our strawberries

Getting dressed up to celebrate our sixth wedding anniversary, eating tuna and steak, drinking red wine and limoncello

Walking along the canal

Taking too-long naps in the middle of the afternoon

Eating crepes for breakfast and feeding the ducks

Setting a date for our move (next Tuesday)

Making plans for the Fourth of July

Strawberry Fields

2011-06-21T12:49:00.000-05:00

We ended up with four quarts of the ripest of strawberries. Count this among the reasons I love living in New York.

Motherhood and Peace

2011-06-20T14:37:00.000-05:00

This weekend I had to go back and reread this article. I've been feeling a little wound up, much like I did a year and a half ago. I've been trying to find a way to articulate how I've been feeling and to define why I am the kind of mother I am. Last week, all I wanted was to quiet everything -- the books and blogs I've read, the advice, the alternative ways of doing things. I kept asking myself, Why do I stay home with Lily, really? Why do I focus so much on her, often at the expense of other things I'd rather be doing? I picked up my copy of The Mission of Motherhood, read a few pages, and had to put it down. As much as I believe there are eternal consequences to my daily acts as a mother, it was starting to make me a little batty.

Adam took Lily to the lake for a day and a half, and I had the weekend to myself. After my initial excitement wore off (and it took awhile), I had some time to sort through things. The biggest reason I want to be at home with my kid is so we can have peace. I lose sight of that too often. I want my family to have a home base, a safe place where we can all rest and know that things are taken care of and where we can all be loved. I am the one who provides that for us. I am the one who sets the tone, either of peacefulness or of batty-ness. I need to keep that better in mind.

Back to the article. The last time I read it, I was deciding whether to continue teaching or to solely stay at home. I chose the latter, but eventually steered back to the former. In many ways, it seems easier in many ways to find other work that offers worldly affirmation and a distraction from the difficultly of mothering. But it's all about balance, which I struggle daily to find.

This quote struck me most this go-around:

Sustainable faith comes from having a coherent worldview, mentoring relationships and community. As I think about motherhood as a vocation from this lens, I can see where all three are essential for women—young or old—to find peace and sustainability in what is arguably a rather chaotic enterprise.

We are missing the community/mentoring aspect right now, as we try to find a church and rebuild relationships here. Having other folks to talk to, face to face, will no doubt help even things out. In the meantime, I've got to remember to relax and keep the peace.

Running Around

2011-06-17T12:19:00.001-05:00

This morning Lily and I had breakfast at a diner with my mom. Then we walked up and down the canal path, looking at boats and waiting for trains to pass nearby. When we were done we returned to my mom's house and ran around in the yard with my brother Alex.

The idea of home is so lost on me right now. We're living, yes, but we're not home. Not for another two weeks, it looks like. But there is still the familiar. The Erie Canal is one of them. Of course, my mom's house is another. The story of who I am is tucked inside of these things, and sharing them with Lily is precious. For her, it's all new and, in many ways, seeing familiar places and people feels new for me too.

When we got out Lily's toys and all started playing together, I thought of things I haven't thought of in a long time. Like the summer nights we'd all spend shooting hoops until dark or playing catch in the front yard.

Lately, Adam and I take Lily and Penny out in the yard after dinner. Adam throws the ball, Penny chases it, and Lily runs around squealing at it all. The other night, I kicked off my shoes and chased her around, blue skies overhead and sun still hours from setting. It is good to have a place to run around and people to run around with. It is good to have a glimpse of home even if you're not there yet.

***

My latest essay is up at the Art House blog, about home, family, and baseball. You can read it here.

A Day at the Lake

2011-06-15T19:42:00.000-05:00

Real tea over ice
Watching Sesame Street on Netflix
Naptime for all of us
Rough waves all day
Lollipops and chocolate cookies
Pushing baby in the stroller
Monkey jammies
Hot sunset
Opening windows at the end of the day
Red wine, white wine
Late bedtime

The Eastman House, Film, and Photography Love

2011-06-13T13:54:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I took the afternoon to wander around the George Eastman House, looking at photographs and taking photographs. Many times I've visited, but never with camera in hand, never with a real interest in any of it.

I had read in the paper that Steve McCurry was giving a lecture at five o'clock about his shooting the last roll of Kodachrome film that was ever developed. Count this among the reasons I'm glad we're back in Rochester. The lecture was fantastic, energizing, and humbling. I have so much to learn about taking photographs and honestly I was far more fascinated by his discussion of craft than his descriptions of his subjects. The story behind this photo, though, was as captivating as the photo itself.

I don't know what, if anything, I'll ever do with all this photo making. All I know is that I love taking photographs. I love that there is so much to learn. I love the trial and error. I love the good shot and the bad. I love that it's often simpler than writing but just as profound. Mostly, I love the deep satisfaction I get from capturing the beautiful things in this world.

Waterside

2011-06-11T14:19:00.000-05:00

I read last summer that time spent beside large bodies of water is good for your mental health. Perhaps this is why I've found myself waterside several times this week. Not only are we in the in-between of this move -- waiting to move into our own place and for Adam to get put on his new schedule of four nights on, four nights off -- but this week my grandmother died. I'm not really sure how to process it all. I am aching for relief from this limbo, this in-between-ness, but I don't think I'll find it for awhile. None of this is what I expected.

I've spent a lot of time in prayer and staring off into space. That's where the water comes in handy, though of course Lily doesn't let me drift off for long. I want a routine, something we can rely on, but more changes are coming and all I can do is wait as patiently as I can.

So we head out the door to explore our (new) hometown. We walk along the lake, the river, the canal. We feed the ducks and play on playgrounds and make the best of it. Because, really, it's not that bad. This is the life we wanted.

Farm Walk

2011-06-09T13:00:00.000-05:00

I haven't been to Lollypop Farm since I was a kid. We would occasionally drive out to see the cats and dogs available for adoption (though never actually adopted one) and head out back to the petting zoo. Now it's more expansive with an entire farm walk where you can see horses, cows, pigs, and other barnyard animals, in addition to the petting zoo with the sheep and goats.

Yesterday, in the ninety degree heat, Lily and I wandered around looking at the animals and practicing what each animal says. I'm glad to be able to show her what these animals really look like, a stark contrast to the cartoon versions in most of her books. And she doesn't skip a beat. She knows a horse when she sees it, and by the end of the walk, she was leading me around like an old pro.

Letting Go

2011-06-08T13:33:00.000-05:00

It's hard to come to terms with how much time I wasted before I became a mother. With all the time in the world, I did very little. I wanted to write, but rarely ever did. Instead I read a lot, watched television a lot, slept late whenever I could, and generally took for granted that someday when I was struck with inspiration I would write.

I didn't know that my life as a writer would intersect so much with my life as a mother. In many ways, both began at the same time. And then this whole photography thing started. Sometimes all I can do is hang on for dear life.

I tend to be very demanding of myself, and I'm learning to let go, mostly because there is so little I can control. I have to be patient; there are still so many changes ahead. But it's nice to be able to look back, at something so simple as a photograph, and remember why I'm doing all this.

***
These photos are from Lily's birthday, on film.

At the Ball Park

2011-06-05T19:14:00.000-05:00

Huddled near the dugout are a handful of folks, cameras in hand. They have lenses longer than my arm and can no doubt get the closeup shot I never will with my dinky 18-55mm lens. However, I'm here to say that no matter what camera you have or what average lens you use, you don't need fancy equipment to make a photo unique and special.

I'm not here to toot my own horn, just to say that spending thousands of dollars on special equipment doesn't necessarily make you a good (or better) photographer, and it isn't required to take a good shot. What is required is creativity and practice (seriously, practice is key!). I'll say what I've already said a thousand times: the 365 project changed the way I take photographs and made me a better photographer. I am grateful for what my little kit lens can do, though I have my eye on a new lens, which I hope to get very soon.

At any rate, my brother had a baseball game today and it turned out to be a beautiful day for baseball. It was seventy and sunny, and though the game ended in a loss, the day was lovely. In fact, this weekend was pretty perfect: we bought a car, went on a date, slept late, and took a long drive to an exciting baseball game. Yes, it was very, very good.

One Month

2011-06-01T07:54:00.000-05:00

The word everyone says when they ask about us these days is "settled." Are we settled yet? No, not even close, but it's coming a little at a time. Adam started his new job yesterday, which is both exciting and nerve wracking since he takes off with the only vehicle we own, leaving Lily and me to figure out how to keep ourselves busy at his parents' house. The next very important step to getting settled is getting another car. We're working on it.

A month from now we'll be moving into our own place, a place which we can make into a home. This seems critical to the idea of being settled and normal again. I was surprised that when we were at the lake this weekend all I wanted to do was come back to the homestead (what I've been calling my in-laws' house) and sleep in my own bed, the only thing I have that feels like home. Not even the lake in all of its glory could remedy my need home. One month to go, then we can talk about getting settled.

Writing and the Lake House

2011-05-28T12:33:00.001-05:00

I set up a chair, facing the lake, and read an essay I've been meaning to read for days. I have so much work to do, other work than reading and staring at the water, but Lily is asleep upstairs in the house and the lure of lapping water and peeking sun is too much. I have so much to write, so much to do -- when will I ever find the time?

What I didn't realize about living with my in-laws is that it would be so social. We eat together, converse into the evenings, share stories and laughs, and at the end of it all, I feel grateful but drained. I need quiet time, to reflect and recharge. Otherwise I end up biting everyone's heads off.

Almost none of the neighbors are out today, despite the holiday weekend. I'm glad. I can sit quietly and read. I can climb down on the rocks to inspect some seaweed floating by and touch the crisp water as it unrolls toward me. Everyone is inside and, most importantly, it's naptime, so Lily is asleep and I have a chance to relax.

I would like an entire day to stare out at the water, read, and write. Preferably without anyone talking to me. I mention this to my mother-in-law, and she tells me to wait thirty years. I don't have thirty years. I have a story to tell now. But what can I do? I work, I rest, and I trust that it will all come together eventually.

Things I Did Today

2011-05-27T14:25:00.000-05:00

:: Opened a bank account
:: Ate peanut M&Ms
:: Drank a beer at lunch
:: Held a screaming child
:: Did a load of laundry
:: Had a meltdown
:: Ate strawberries

Lying in the Grass

2011-05-25T19:01:00.000-05:00

Since we've been in New York, all I've wanted to do is lie in the grass. The grass is different here, softer. A totally different kind, Adam says. All I know are the memories I have of walking barefoot through the yard, or plopping myself outside of the dorm on warm spring days beside friends, the grass tickling our toes. That the grass was different elsewhere never occurred to me, but it is. In Alabama I rarely walked outside without shoes. The grass and the ground felt different beneath my feet. I feared snakes and fire ants, so I kept a safe distance, usually from a chair on the patio.

Last week, the first day that it didn't rain since our arrival, Adam got out the riding lawnmower and Lily and I walked the empty lot beside his parents' house picking dandelions and watching him whiz by. I showed Lily how to blow the seeds around the yard, then we sat in the grass and I chained the yellow flowers together. The grass was long, waiting to be cut, and we left an imprint where we sat.

I haven't picked up a book in over a month, but today I grabbed one I've been meaning to read for awhile and a blanket and headed out into the yard. The sun was bright overhead. I stretched out on my stomach, book in front of me, and took in word by word. For a few moments, that is, until Adam came out with the two dogs to throw balls for them to chase. I glanced over and noticed our dog Penny's muscular body as she zipped across the yard with the ball and barked until it was thrown again. Brownie, my in-laws' dog, is just as her name describes: brown. She is an extra-large labrador, a hundred pounds, give or take, and her gait is singularly her own.

I rolled back over to finish the essay I was reading, and my father-in-law Tom pulled his truck into the backyard to load up his four-wheeler. The dogs ran around the yard and my mother-in-law Sandi came out of the house. Adam held the dogs and helped his dad. Sandi talked to me about the landscaping and what we should have for dinner tonight before walking over to her husband and her son.

I sat on my blanket, part annoyed that I couldn't finish my essay and part grateful for this familial chaos happening here in the backyard with my daughter asleep in the house. Here is this family who has always been accepting and loving toward me, a family whose history I will only partly know and a husband whose past I will never see through clear eyes. There will always be parts of his past I won't know, just as he doesn't know all of mine. He doesn't know about the time I laid in the grass with a friend in college, guilty from kissing a boy the night before whose name I didn't know. He doesn't know how the soft grass felt after walking barefoot on the stone driveway as a kid. He doesn't know so many things, and there are still so many things about him I don't know either.

I finished reading the essay and came back into the house to a crying child, feverish and needing a cuddle from her mama. I left the blanket and my book in the grass, hoping we'd make it back outside this evening. Instead I held her for more than an hour. Adam walked out the back door and returned with the blanket and book, and I knew what I've always known about him: When I need him, he is there. For all the things I may not know, this one makes up for them all.

All Good Things

2011-05-24T14:08:00.000-05:00

The days are all tangled together. Some days are harder than others. Some days are harder on Lily than on Adam or me. Thankfully for her, there is lots of sleep in her own crib with her own blankets and her babies.

We all sleep in the same room. Adam and I are on our mattress on the floor; Lily's crib is two feet away. She wakes in the middle of the night and we take turns patting her back to sleep. I've learned that I need to get to bed early so I can handle her waking in the middle of the night or very, very early in the morning. This morning she woke at 7:30. I was thankful.

Nothing is like what we thought it would be. I've thought (more often than I would have guessed) that we left a good thing. We loved our house and neighborhood. Lily's school was right down the street. Winn Dixie was two blocks over. Yesterday I asked Adam which house he loved the best, of all the houses he's lived in. He answered this one, the one we're staying in now, where he has so many fond memories of tinkering around in the back woods. He asked me the same question, and I said the house I loved best was the one we just left. It wasn't perfect, but it was where I was happiest.

I worried that we wouldn't find that again. Finding a house to rent was becoming problematic and for two days we toyed with the idea of home ownership. But this morning, after deciding renting for one more year really is the best decision for us, we got the call from the only rental house we've looked at so far, offering us a lease. It's a duplex in a nice part of the city, a walkable neighborhood with a playground right down the street. It may not be what we had in Mobile, but it seems just the right fit for right now.

We Made It

2011-05-20T16:25:00.000-05:00

To say that this move has been stressful and overwhelming is an understatement. What I didn't anticipate is how love would carry me through the exhaustion and impatience. I didn't know that I would wake with at 5:30 a.m. to be cuddled and kissed by my two year-old. I didn't know that she would insist that we hold hands walking through the house and through the yard. I didn't know that we would pick dandelions and make necklaces out of them. I didn't know that she would suddenly learn fifty new words that make understanding her so much easier.

Of course there is a flip side to that coin, but it's just too hard to face. If I don't focus on the good things, the lovely things, then I'll never make it. And there are so many good things: girls' nights drinking margaritas, baseball games, long chats with loved ones, cool weather, long drives, soft grass. Normal may be a long way off, but we'll find it again, I'm sure. Our journey is just beginning.

Seven More Days

2011-05-06T14:43:00.000-05:00

This morning I woke up with knots in my stomach -- good knots, excited knots. This is the last Friday I will live in Alabama. I've been waiting for the rush of adrenaline that will carry me through to the end, and it's here, able to be summoned at whim. I suspected it would come at the end of the semester, and it has. Classes ended yesterday. My students sent me off with smiles and well wishes. They don't know how exhausted I've been or how burned out I feel or how ready I am to just go.

It was three months ago that we caught wind of the job that started this whole thing. Three months is a long time when you're waiting. Then, earlier this week, Adam received the offer we've waited all this time for. It was like I could finally exhale. I slept well that night.

I didn't know when I met Adam that we would be so adventurous. We didn't know all the leaps of faith that we'd take; all we knew was that we wanted to take them together. Yesterday, as we were talking about how stressful everything has been, he told me that he wouldn't want to move home with anyone else. We're in this for the long haul, and the adventure is far from over.

We still have seven more days here. So we'll wait a little longer -- just a little bit.

Lily's 2nd Birthday

2011-05-01T21:34:00.002-05:00

Donuts, mimosas, baby dolls, lip gloss, splashing, napping, pizza, running through the park. It was a very good day.

Executive Decisions

2011-04-29T15:24:00.000-05:00

So, you know, we're moving in two weeks. Two weeks from today. And, oh my goodness, that is soon. So, we have been forced to make some executive decisions.

Adam was offered to be deployed to northern Alabama to help search for missing people. He said no, which is proving to be good because it looks like all the folks who headed that way will be gone for over a week.

We decided that we would forgo having a yard sale. I'm too tired to get everything ready and haggle with strangers on my front lawn, so a lot of our stuff is headed to Goodwill.

We are also not going to do any more formal grocery shopping. You have no idea what a relief this is. I want to throw away as little food as possible, but I know we'll end up toting some of it north. I just want to limit how much we actually take and don't want to restock our entire supply. (Any tips on how to do this most effective are warmly welcomed.)

This morning we went to the Exploreum, which was a lot of fun. We ended up seeing "giant insects" and a live animal show that gave us the opportunity to show Lily what a horse looks like. A lot different from the pages of her Sandra Boynton books, for sure.

Side note: I wrote a little essay for the Curator about our impending move. You can read it here.

Bye bye, Truck. Hello, Dryer

2011-04-27T18:46:00.000-05:00

We sold our truck. Yesterday we took our last ride in it as a family. It's the truck Adam took me out on our first date in, the truck we shared for almost a year when we were first married. And because we're moving and because we hope to someday become a family of four and because our car is in better shape than the truck, we sold it and now it's gone.

So we're temporarily a one-car family. Hopefully it won't be for long.

On a very good note, our dryer is working again. Turns out that we had the right parts all along, but didn't realize it (this is what happens when you try to save money and install things yourselves). A quick search on youtube and an hour turning screws and the dryer is a-tumblin' again. I'll admit I got a little giddy about it. I ran around the house gathering all of my pants that needed to be shrunk back to size and all of the towels, which were rough from line drying. I happily spent the afternoon doing laundry.

Exhaustion

2011-04-25T20:25:00.000-05:00

At the end of every day Adam and I are exhausted. Even on days when we do very little, the evening rolls around and we're in bed earlier than we'd like to admit. We sleep all night and still feel exhausted. Today we decided it will probably be weeks before we feel rested again. There's just so much to do.

This morning I met a Flickr friend for coffee. It was good to talk, to put a face with a name. While I was gone Adam and a friend were trying to install a new drum in our dryer, the one that broke just before Mardi Gras causing us to give up using the dryer for Lent instead of giving up nothing. Unfortunately, the parts don't fit and we'll be without a dryer for the duration of our stay at this house. And Lily spent her day under the weather with a low-grade fever, which didn't help the dryer not fitting right fiasco.

But what can we do? We're just riding this train from here on out: a yard sale Saturday, Lily's birthday Sunday, the end of the semester next week, Adam's birthday, then we're on our way north. It's sort of incredible that we're doing this and sort of not incredible that we're so tired. So I won't feel bad about lounging around watching TV and going to bed early. Eventually this will all even itself out.

All Things Easter and Otherwise

2011-04-24T20:17:00.000-05:00

This week we did so many things.

We hunted eggs and celebrated a little friend's second birthday. We thought we sold our truck, learned the buyer's loan was denied, and immediately got a call from another buyer who had cash. We packed and ruthlessly reduced our wardrobes. I got a new freelance job, had a panic attack, and realized it will all work out in the end.

Adam and I went out for the first time in two months. We had dinner with friends, one of whom gave me four rolls of film. That on top of the seven rolls I had ordered that were delivered a few days before, and I would say that I am set on film for quite some time. The butter was even bumped from its compartment in the fridge because of all that film!

Today I saw the local photo shop is taking old photo equipment for cash. We have a few old cameras kicking around here (including the one that malfunctioned near Lily's birth) and I'm hoping I might get enough cash to buy a few more rolls of film. However, if it's enough to buy one of these, I'd take that over film any day.

Happy Easter! He is risen, indeed!

Of Poetry and Creative Nonfiction

2011-04-19T14:56:00.000-05:00

A few months ago, Adam had our old computer reformatted, the same computer I bought upon entering graduate school, the one where all my documents from graduate school were saved. And, of course, because I didn't think of it in time, all of those documents were wiped away (all but my thesis, which luckily I had tucked into a folder on Google Docs). When I realized all that work was gone, I was pretty bummed. It's not information I accessed often, but it was part of my story, a part that is long gone.

On Sunday, when we pulled everything down from the attic, I rummaged through boxes of papers -- Christmas cards, letters, photographs from college. At the bottom of one box were three folders and a three-inch stack of papers, all work from graduate school. I was elated.

Two of the folders are from classes that I'd rather forget -- Sociolinguistics and Bibliography Methods. The other folder is from my first poetry workshop in 2003, and the stack of paper contained the many drafts of my thesis (with notes!) and two papers from my creative nonfiction class.

Yesterday I sat down and read through all of it, laughing at how terrible some of those early poems were and smiling over some of the interesting images therein. Those poems were written before I had a direction for my thesis. They were little experiments, some which were failures and some which were delightful.

Of all of it, the most interesting for me to reread is a paper I wrote on Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and Vivian Gornick's Fierce Attachments for my creative nonfiction class. Now that I primarily write nonfiction and not poetry, what I wrote in this essay seems particularly salient.

I mentioned Mimi Schwartz who, in her essay "Memoir? Fiction? Where's the Line?", writes that writers of memoir should strive for emotional truth and not worry so much about adhering to perfectly recreated, exact, absolute memories. Then I quote John Irving who reminds the readers of his book Trying to Save Piggy Sneed, "Please remember that all memoir is fiction." About Eggers' book, I wrote:

His life is not seen through a perfectly clear, sharp lens but rather a cloudy, fragmented one, and that the dialogue, characters, and events that have been fictionalized have been changed only in ways that do not distract from the storyline. These elements, in many cases, strengthen the writing because they emphasize the important aspects and collapse the unnecessary.

Why is this so important? Well, I have often started essays about my life and got hung up on the details of it all, which I can't remember. I don't have a tape recorder in my pocket to record all of my conversations; I don't carry a notebook in my pocket and jot down every detail of life as it's happening. Dave Eggers' memoir is just about as radically fictionalized as a memoir could be, but it's still the story of his life according to him. Isn't that what memoir is? It's what the writer felt, saw, and remembered, not necessarily the exact, objective truth of what happened. Who knows the exact, objective truth anyway?

This give me courage. I can tell my story the way I remember it. I can make stuff up if it fits with what I remember. I don't have to beat myself up about the details. I also have courage to start writing poems again, because if I could write bad poems and share them with twelve strangers in a workshop, I can write bad poems again and trust that, with practice, they'll only get better.

Ice Cream

2011-04-18T07:30:00.000-05:00

On a Sabbath that was decidedly un-Sabbath-like, we spent most of the day packing, unpacking, and repacking everything that was in the attic. And our reward? Ice cream at Old Dutch (cross it off the list).

After dinner, we bathed Lily and dressed her in her jammies (please tell me we're not the only ones who do things like this) and took her to get her first ice cream cone, wet hair and all. She really enjoyed it and, surprisingly, was the only one of the three of us to not drip ice cream on herself. The best part was watching her wave to the cars pulling out of the parking lot while saying, "Bye-bye! I lull loo!" I died laughing every time.

Friday Happiness (Again)

2011-04-15T15:43:00.000-05:00

It's been a surprisingly relaxing week around here. There's been a lot of porch swinging, beer sipping, and long walking around the neighborhood. This morning I sat in a coffee shop and finished reading Flannery O'Connor's Wise Blood (not exactly a feel-good book, but it did the trick) and eavesdropped on the barrista talking to the air conditioning repair guy. One was from North Carolina, the other from Maryland, and they were comparing notes about Mobile. It was amusing to me to listen to their likes and dislikes, while I sat nearby with the secret that I, too, am not from Mobile but I'm about to get the heck outta here.

Everyone I tell that we're leaving looks at me incredulously and says some variation of, "I can't believe you're moving somewhere with such cold weather." I shrug my shoulders and say something like, "I can't stand being sweaty," or, "I really miss wearing scarves." And they still don't get it. That's okay. I was born and raised in the cold and, doggone it, I do miss wearing scarves.

I keep trying to think of the things I'll miss about Alabama, things I should savor before they're gone. I'll miss the live oaks and the beach. I'll miss seeing blue skies almost every single day. I'll miss my favorite radio station and this tiny house we've made a home.

The other day, Adam and I sat on the porch swing and I told him that I wonder what I'll miss that I don't expect to miss. What am I taking for granted that I won't have when we move? I don't know. There will be things, I'm sure, and I will be sad about what we're losing when we move. But that comes with the territory, right?

What I do know is that it's Friday. The sun is shining and the beer is cold and I get to spend the weekend with the ones I love. For now, that's all I need to know.

A Little Collaboration

2011-04-14T14:07:00.000-05:00

I am delighted to have been asked to collaborate with my friend Daniel Bowman at the Art House Blog today. Four of my photos and five of his poems are featured. His poetry is lovely, and I am grateful for having such talented friends. Be sure to check it out!

Away We Go

2011-04-13T12:22:00.000-05:00

"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined." -Thoreau

So, it's officially officially official. We're moving a month from today!

We'll be back in our home state of New York, staying with family for a while near Rochester until we figure out job stuff and find a place to settle down. A lot is still up in the air, but it's time for us to go.

If you're in Mobile, hopefully we can find time to connect before we move. If you're in Rochester or nearby, get ready 'cause here we come!

Today I Did

2011-04-12T15:58:00.000-05:00

Today I did not see the water. I did not think or worry or wish.

I did spend most of the day outside, mostly alone. I sat on the porch swing and read a book. I walked through the neighborhood. I stared into space. I drifted off into sleep.

After many stressful days, it was bliss.

The only thing better would have been hearing the water rush up to the shore. But Lily and I did that Sunday, so I'm good for a while.

Round Here

2011-04-07T07:45:00.002-05:00

They are painting the pink house next door a duskier shade of pink. More brown than pink, but maybe I can say that because I've looked at the bubblegum pink it every day for the past year and a half.

Lily asks every afternoon to see the doggies in the neighbor's yard (at the pink house, ahem), but we haven't seen them because of the painters. The painters have quite the salty mouths, by the way, but they listen to some cool classic rock all day.

We've been working on "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and after I searched the song on youtube, this is what came up. I'm grateful that we don't watch much TV.

I do wish we watched more of this. And also this.

I've been in the middle of these three books, but can't seem to find the time or energy to make much headway. I desperately need a day alone in a hammock.

I've written two articles and graded twenty papers in the last two days. My free time is spent watching Lie to Me on Netflix, but I'm anxious to watch the latest season of Mad Men, whenever it gets here.

Lily and I watched this video, a song we've sung many times, but watching this makes me embarrassed about my lack of flexibility. (How does she do that in heels?) I prefer this version. The video is better for my self-esteem.

On Compromise

2011-04-05T07:45:00.034-05:00

Too often I ask myself, why am I trying so hard? I get stressed out over things that are not mine to worry about. I take on too much. I end up with knots in my stomach, unable to rest. These are not good things. These are not things I'm proud of.

Recently we've been attending a church that's working through Revelation. The sermons have been amazing. One Sunday I wrote myself a note: Whose acceptance am I looking for? Are my habits in life dictated by a desire to please God or to be held in esteem by people? The sermon was on compromise.

And I ask myself, why am I trying so hard? And to what end? I want to use my talents and abilities. I love to write, to teach, to take photographs. I love being a mom and showing my daughter the world. I love reading everything I can get my hands on. But what of these things are most important? If I'm using my talents to write but I'm stressed out fitting deadlines around mothering my child, is it worth it? If what I'm reading is stirring up guilt about the choices I make, should I be reading these things?

A few weeks ago, a good friend encouraged me to keep fighting the good fight. Often I remind myself of just that.

Lily is all worked up before bed. She can't settle down. I go into her room, scoop her up from her bed, and hold her in my arms. She lays her head on my shoulder and I rub her back. She sucks her thumb, I hum softly. When she's ready, she lifts her head, plants a smooch on my lips, and I place her back in bed and don't hear another peep until morning. That is when I know what is important in my life.

To Market, To Market

2011-04-04T14:15:00.000-05:00

Our Sunday plans to head to the beach were foiled by early fog and lots of wind. Instead, we crossed the bay to visit the Windmill Market (cross that off the list). I featured the market's grocery club in an article I wrote for Sense about local CSAs, but had never been there. The building is completely green and features an organic grocery store, arts and crafts, restaurants, and music.

Lily got to color, and Adam and I got to enjoy a beer (his a Heineken, mine a Magic Hat #9). It was warm and breezy. We listened to music and chatted and wandered around. A perfect Sunday afternoon, I'd say.

Chasing Bubbles and Kicking Balls

2011-03-31T19:40:00.000-05:00

Today was surprisingly cool. The last few weeks have steadily gotten warmer and more humid. We spent most of our day at the zoo sweating, and frankly it just seems too early. When the rains came through yesterday, it brought a cold front and today the temps never broke 70. It was awesome.

So Lily and I spent the late afternoon blowing bubbles. But what really happened is that I spent a half hour trying to simultaneously blow bubbles and snap photos of them as they blew all over the yard. It's not as easy as it sounds. Eventually I looked over at Lily. She had stopped chasing bubbles and sat down to eat a snack, which meant, "Mommy, this is getting old."

I admit that it was. Sometimes I pick up my camera and get so involved in what I'm doing that I forget what I should be doing. I stopped shooting the bubbles and started shooting Lily. She got up and grabbed a ball, and I finally put the camera down and we kicked it around the yard. Together.

Things to Do This Spring: A List

2011-03-30T08:00:00.002-05:00

~~Go on a picnic~~

~~Head to Dauphin Island (at least once)~~

Sip champagne

Write a poem about my daughter

Color eggs

~~Visit the Windmill Market~~

Play frisbee golf

Take a road trip

Eat breakfast in bed

~~Take Lily to Old Dutch for ice cream~~

Make and wear a friendship bracelet (or two!)

Hold a yard sale

A Little Bit of Lily

2011-03-29T08:00:00.000-05:00

Lily will be two in thirty-four days, which isn't many days away. I can see her two year-old self already emerging, and if I was inclined to believe in the terrible two's, I'd say we are well on our way. She is in constant flux between being her sweet little self and exerting her will, and there's no telling when a meltdown is on its way. Thankfully, this is only a phase.

But it's not all bad, just different. She wants more interaction from me, so we color or sing or play together. Often her playtime used to be my time to read or sit quietly, but I've all but given up on that. When I'm with Lily, I'm simply with Lily.

I will admit that she is cute and smart and talkative, all things about her I love. And where she used to constantly ask me to sing "This Little Light of Mine," she now asks me to sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" at least twenty times a day. I secretly think it's fun, but don't tell her.

Things We Learned at the Zoo

2011-03-28T14:32:00.001-05:00

Just because you're pretty doesn't mean you aren't annoying.

Cats are lazy, no matter what their size.

If you have wings and know how to use them, no barrier can contain you.

It's tough being a fifth wheel.

Mama's arms are the safest of places.

Holding Daddy's hand is a safe place, too.

Nothing is better than being together, wherever we are.

Holga Love

2011-03-23T16:10:00.000-05:00

After exhausting the limits of my patience by sending three rolls of film off to a lab in Kansas (do you know how long it takes to shoot three rolls of film, two of which were 36 exposures? a long, long time), I finally got my prints back. All 84 of them, including my first roll from my Holga.

I can't even begin to explain how overjoyed I am. Not only did the photos turn out okay (Holgas don't have light meters, which ups the guesswork to the nth power), but they came on a day when the perfect storm of awful seems to be raging at full force. What I needed was time to play on the computer, scan my photos, and post them online, while enjoying a beer in the middle of the afternoon.

It's the small things, I tell ya.

These photos are from a carnival I stumbled onto while wandering around downtown during Mardi Gras. Want more Holga photos? Click here or here.

Telling Stories

2011-03-21T16:02:00.001-05:00

I spent most of my day grading essays. After a week off for spring break, preceded by a week shortened because of Mardi Gras, I left the entire stack for today. Twenty-two essays total.

The essays were personal narratives. Each student wrote three pages about a significant event that somehow changed him or her. It's incredible what they will disclose in an essay: pregnancy, abortion, religion, sickness, death. I admire many of them for their bravery, and I feel privileged to be among each essay's few readers.

What struck me most as I read through the stack was the balance each writer took on showing and telling. Most students spend too much time telling. They explain why someone they loved was important or why they came to a certain belief. Even after much class discussion about showing and letting the story stand, they still rely on telling.

What's most interesting about this is that it's usually their first paragraph or two that does all the telling. Instead of jumping into the story, they write an explanation. Over and over I wrote: This is all telling. Your essay should start here (with an arrow pointing to the second paragraph). Then I would feel guilty that they won't have the time to revise these essays because so many of their stories are beautiful.

It reminds me of what William Zinsser wrote about the importance of writing our stories even if they will never be published:

Sorry to be so harsh, but I don’t like people telling other people they shouldn’t write about their life. All of us earn that right by being born; one of the deepest human impulses is to leave a record of what we did and what we thought and felt on our journey.

Each of our stories is important, which makes it all the harder to write comments on students' papers when they write something heartbreaking and beautiful but that's riddled with grammatical errors. Still, I feel privileged and grateful, and mindful of how important it is for me to tell my story.

For Lily's Birthday

2011-03-16T15:26:00.001-05:00

I know what I want to get Lily for her birthday: a baby doll and a toy camera.

I'm not sure why she doesn't have a baby doll, but I suppose every little girl should have one. Right now she has a beloved stuffed animal we call Buddy, who is the unnamed character from Dr. Suess's The Foot Book. He looks nothing like a baby, but he functions just as well. She carries him around, pushes him in the shopping cart, naps with him.

The other morning when I picked Lily up from the nursery at the gym, she was playing alone. She had a baby doll in the swing, which she had covered with a blanket. The girl working there said she already gave the baby a bottle. It was adorable and I had a rush of guilt that she didn't have a doll of her own. No matter the gender stereotypes. This girl needs a baby doll.

She also needs a camera, which was obvious today when I got my big camera out and she dug out the little point and shoot. Then she flipped it on and started taking videos. This is what the kid of a photography nut does, I suppose. I took the little camera away and pointed it at her, and realized she should have a camera of her own.

In the Backyard

2011-03-15T19:46:00.000-05:00

It's becoming a part of the routine. After Lily wakes from her nap, I pour crackers into a bowl, hand her a cup of water, and we head outside until it's time to make dinner. We are fortunate to live where we can be outside almost every day in the middle of March, a fact I remind myself of often in spite of wishing we were further north. Sometimes I pour myself a glass of wine. We sit in the backyard -- she inspects the terrain and I grab my camera and start shooting.

The yard always feels the same, and sometimes I convince myself there's nothing new to see there. It's how I often feel. I spent two years taking a photo every day, inspecting every inch of our home inside and out. There is nothing new to see.

And then I have a hard day. And another. And I'm suddenly in a flurry of hard days because, let's face it, when it rains, it pours. We make it to four o'clock and head for the backyard; the only solace I find is in snapping a few photos. There is still so much to see.

What I didn't know in those two years of photo taking is that taking photos would become such an integral part of my daily routine. When, at the end of a rough day, I lift my camera and click-click-click, somehow all the bad is erased. A slim and finite moment of clarity emerges from the blurry mess. One photograph replaces the hours of hardship.

Who knew?

Who knew that the changing seasons would mean so much, that a backyard from day to day would reveal something new, that this life, which can feel so dark, can be filled with so much beauty? Who knew? Not me. I didn't know what this would mean or that, two years ago, when I started down this path, it might repair the brokenness in my daily life. I like that. And I'm grateful.

Sense

2011-03-11T14:22:00.000-06:00

It always feels good to see my name in print, especially somewhere new. I've had the privilege of writing for Sense, a new magazine on the Gulf Coast, with my piece featured in this month's issue.

Unfortunately, the magazine isn't posted online, but if you're local, look for it at local coffee shops, salons, and restaurants. The March issue is visually stunning and covers a wide variety of topics, from my article on autism to gourmet food on wheels, a la airstream trailers, to the intermingling of ballet and hip hop. It's really something.

In related news, I have a new article up at The Curator today celebrating craft beer. Be sure to check it out. And I'd love to know what beers you love. Adam and I are always on the lookout for great beer. Cheers!

What Can't Legos Fix?

2011-03-07T19:02:00.004-06:00

Lily was still asleep. She slept late this morning and was back in bed for a nap before eleven. Unusual, but I could tell she wasn't feeling well. I sat at the table with a bowl of grapefruit and yesterday's crossword. The dryer was clunking in the back room, a noise that started this week but one that I was fully prepared to ignore until absolutely necessary.

The clunk got suddenly louder. Ours is one where the dryer sits atop the washer in one unit. One of the knobs popped off the front of the machine. I pulled the door open. Perhaps I wouldn't use it for a while. A few minutes later, when I went to the back door to let the dog in, the entire back of the house was flooding from the overflowing washer. Perhaps having an adjoining washer and dryer is not such a good idea. I said something like, "Oh, s*gar!" and called Adam. Rubber boots on, mop in hand, I got to work sloshing water out the back door.

Long story short: No washer, no dryer.

So when Lily finally got up, after a four hour nap, Legos were in order. Is there anything Legos can't fix? We think not. I make towers of Legos; she pulls them apart. It's a nice balance.

As for the washer and dryer, we'll have to see what our landlord says. Thankfully we can lug our wet laundry and the piles of wet towels to a friend's house tomorrow and use hers. Very thankfully.

See What Happens

2011-03-06T19:02:00.000-06:00

We sat down at the table and ordered a pitcher of beer. It's so close to Mardi Gras, but rain held off the parades, so Adam was unexpectedly home. We went out for a much-needed burger. Lily sipped water from a straw. Adam and I drank Yuengling.

I pulled out my camera, the 35mm one. Last week I bought myself a Holga, finally, so now I am juggling three cameras at once. Knowing which one to shoot is like drawing straws. I lift my camera to take a picture of a row of tables. We are at a restaurant called Butch Cassidy's, and the decor is, in a word, Americana. But it's also Mardi Gras, so there are purple, green, and gold decorations hanging from the ceiling and the bartender is dressed as a Mardi Gras-style Cleopatra.

I tell Adam that I want to stand up and take a photo of the decorations. "That's the owner," he says, looking at the pony-tailed guy behind the bar. I recognize him from the commercials. "Do you think he'll have a problem with it?" I ask. Already I feel like dog with my tail between my legs. I won't stand up. I won't take the photo I want. Instead I snap a photo of our beer and a quick one of the bar when the man is back in the kitchen. I'm a chicken.

Just the other day I went downtown to take photos of Mardi Gras carts and beads hanging from the trees. I drove around a bit to scout out a location, parked the car, and went on my way. And then I was bashful. Should I take a photo now? All these people are around. I talked myself up onto the ledge and then back down. What would I think if I was walking down the street and saw a photographer with her camera pointed into a tree? I would think, that's awesome, and nothing more.

So I stepped into the midst of a carnival being set up and snapped a few photos. I walked right up to a flowering bush and snapped another. When someone looked at me, I said hi. When they walked by, I said hi. It's far easier to psyche myself out of doing something because I feel foolish than to just do it and see what happens. And so I just have to do it, take the leap or the photo or whatever needs to be done, and see whatever might be.

Give It Time

2011-03-04T18:48:00.000-06:00

Lily and I sit on the dining room floor rolling trucks back and forth to each other. It's been a rough week. There is so much I have needed to say but couldn't. Either there was no one to listen or there were no words -- neither option better than the other.

I sat down today to work on an essay I started last week, about one of these things I've needed to say. When I get to the computer, very little comes out. I start questioning everything, mostly that what I have to say has any value. I often think of essays I should write, things that I need to work out in my own life. I make notes so I don't forget. 'Maybe it's still too fresh,' I think. 'Maybe I need more time.' I give it time.

'Maybe I'm too self-aware,' I think. I spent the second half of last year working through issues in my life, journaling and talking to a counselor. I start to panic when I can't remember what I learned in graduate school and resist the urge to get angry that I all but walked away from my writing for some time. But one thing I learned in counseling last year is how to talk myself down off the ledge, so to speak. 'You're a writer,' I remind myself. 'You will write.'

What does that mean? I roll the truck across the floor to Lily and wonder what I should share and what I shouldn't. I can rattle off the names of poets who unapologetically wrote about the nitty gritty details of their lives. I used to believe I'd be one someday, both a poet and a writer who wrote truth no matter how much it hurt. Now I wonder who I will hurt when I write what I need to write.

Most days I am happy with what I have: a husband and daughter who adore me, writing and teaching gigs that use my talents, a growing and insistent passion for photography, and an insatiable love for God and truth. But there is this nagging in my soul to write about my life, where I've come from and where I'm headed, what I've endured and how I have grown.

Maybe now is not the time. Maybe now is simply the time I sit on the floor with my daughter and roll a truck to her and laugh when it passes her by. I watch her crawl across the floor, turn it toward me, and squeal, "Wheeee!" as it rolls back toward me. She inches her way toward me, another truck in hand, until our legs are touching, then rolls the truck a mere two inches and again squeals, "Wheeee!"

Friday Happiness

2011-02-25T18:40:00.000-06:00

From my journal today:
There is very little more to be grateful for than to find Lily sitting on the back step in the perfect late afternoon light. After running across the house to grab my camera, I snap her photograph and all that has not been well in this day suddenly is. I try to hold every moment with her in my mind, knowing I will never remember it all. The camera helps and for that I am grateful. I admire my almost two year-old. She is spunky and sweet. She loves dresses and getting dirty. She loves books and I secretly pine for the day I can buy her a camera and we can shoot pictures together. There is so much ahead of us. So much.

On Bicycling and Staying Home

2011-02-23T14:37:00.000-06:00

There's a man I see everyday. He and his son ride a tandem bicycle down our street twice a day -- once to school and once back. The bicycle is adult sized in the front and child sized in the back. After dropping off his boy, the father rides home, back up our street, and I don't see him again until about 2:15. Then, off he goes.

Which got me thinking about what the father must do for work. It must be something flexible and at home. Maybe he's a stay-at-home dad or maybe he's a freelance writer or designer. Whatever it is, he's always there riding with his kid to school in the morning and home in the afternoon.

Which got me thinking about hard choices. Not to beat a dead horse, but I'm really glad I (mostly) stay home with Lily. It's taken some creative finagling. It's taken sacrifice for Adam and for me. It can be simultaneously fun and mind numbing, but I think it's a hard choice worth making.

Seeing the man on the bicycle makes me happy because I can see that being me in the future. Dropping the kids off at school and doing my own freelance work. Riding my bike or walking to pick up the kids after school. Keeping a flexible schedule so that I can be available for them. I think that's an important part of being a mom -- being available. Lily doesn't need me every second of the day, but when she does, I'm usually around. Right where I want to be.

Notes from Recent Days

2011-02-22T19:25:00.000-06:00

The notes I took about the past few days:

Trying to remember every moment
Lily's curls
Tumbling down the stairs
The things I hide in books only to find later
The open door & letting her play outside
Climbing, standing on the chairs
Baby babble
Making hard choices for the sake of the gospel
Being @ home = stability
Feez = please
little closed-mouth, puckered kisses

Does that make sense?

I sat on the back steps watching Lily run through the yard and tried to capture it all in my mind. But I knew, no matter how hard I tried, I would never remember it all.
Her curls have been in full blast with the warmer weather. With warm weather comes moisture and with moisture comes curls. On Lily, this is cute (on Mommy, not so much).
Last night, as we made dinner, Lily stepped too close to the back steps and rolled down them. I ran outside, scooped her up, and wiped away her tears. As soon as she knew she was all right, she wanted down.
I often stuff papers in books and in random places around the house, only to find them later and reminisce. It's not something I do on purpose, but something I often enjoy.
Nice weather = lots of time outside = making dinner in peace while Lily entertains herself = awesome.
Lily is in a climbing phase. She climbs on the chairs and the trunk in the hall and the stairs and the coffee table. And then she stands, which gives Adam and me a nervous disorder.
Lily is a motormouth, like I've heard all little girls are, and even though she knows quite a few words, when she gets going we don't have the foggiest clue what in the world she's saying. Mostly I respond by saying, "Really?" Because, really?!
I lamented to my young moms' group how hard it is to constantly be an example for the sake of the gospel. It seems like so many of our choices are hard, and we make them because we love Jesus. Don't get me wrong, it's the right thing and totally worth it, but being an example all the time can be hard.
One of those hard choices is me mostly staying at home and hemming my many work projects around being a mom. I often think of the stable foundation that's being laid in Lily's life and how it will affect her later on. I am always here, and she has very little to worry about. I think that's good.
Feez is Lily's please. She uses it a lot, especially when she wants more of something. We're still working on Thank you.
And Lily has finally mastered the art of a closed-mouth smooch, which is a good thing indeed.

Lily at the Playground

2011-02-18T09:54:00.000-06:00

Our adventure with the geese the other morning led us to the neighboring playground where Lily played and played until she couldn't stand it anymore. She actually figured out how to climb up a slide, which was pretty amazing. More amazing that we can take her to the playground and she can keep herself entertained without us constantly being by her side. I like that part.

Just as were about to wrap things up, Adam took the camera (something he rarely does) and snapped a few photos of me and my girl.

It was a beautiful day. I am a lucky lady.

Happy weekend, folks!

Morning, Evening

2011-02-17T18:25:00.002-06:00

Morning

The day begins early, earlier than I plan. I lie in bed, as exhausted as when I first fell asleep. Hours later I drift off and wake to the sound of springs from Lily's crib as she welcomes her day by jumping in her bed. I envy her, roll over, and finally get up.

Our morning goes slowly. She has to go to school; I have to go to school. We sit with Adam and all drink our coffee. Lily's is a bit of coffee mixed with milk that she spills all over the floor. Oh well, these things happen. Adam makes her lunch and walks her to school. I stand in the bathroom measuring the wrinkliness of my eyes from little sleep. I trek off to my office to write before I teach, only to realize that I left all my notes at home.

Evening

Adam goes off to work for the first time in a week, and I am secretly glad and plan my evening alone. I have a fresh stack of books from the library and dinner that is already made. I flip through books and Lily taunts the dog and rearranges the living room furniture.

I pour a glass of wine, flip on the radio, and we dance around the kitchen. We eat; she bathes. Then we talk about nothing, and she climbs up and down and all over me. I try not to think about deadlines and all the work I'm not doing. There will be time for it tomorrow.

We read the bible and pray before I lift her into her crib. She sings and shouts and, again, I envy her. My plans tonight will be to read intermittently between my favorite television shows, then turn in early. Tomorrow will be more of the same.

At the Water's Edge

2011-02-16T13:51:00.003-06:00

Today is a good day to be out and about. The sun is shining, the temperatures are moderate, and I don't have a sinus headache for the first time in twelve days. We went to the park and walked down by the water's edge to find geese who were very loud and very unafraid of us. I was a little taken aback, especially when one started sticking its tongue out at us. They were obviously involved in some mating ritual and we were in the way. On a day like today, I don't blame them.

A Happy Announcement

2011-02-10T14:17:00.005-06:00

This photo of mine is featured in a new project called What Does Your Tea Time Look Like? Every day they feature a new photo of tea. It's quite an honor to be included, especially if you look through the archives at some of the amazing photography. Grab a cup of tea and take a peek.

I Should

2011-02-08T18:25:00.005-06:00

This is not a post where I talk about wine, but I should. I should talk about about how tonight is the first night I've had a glass of wine in many nights because I've been sick-as-a-dog sick. I should talk about how I have a thousand deadlines and barely a lick of energy.

I should talk about how I was glad to come across an old photograph that my brother posted on Facebook, one that I took a few years ago, one that makes me think I might actually have had this photography knack all along.

I should talk about how it makes me feel to read the bible to Lily, to tell her that Jesus loves her and mean it, to light up when she points her first finger in the air as I sing "This Little Light of Mine."

I should talk about where I was a year ago in my faith walk and where I am now, how I often have to remind myself that I don't have to be that year-ago person anymore.

I should talk about how everything seems to be up in the air, how we've had to make some hard decisions in favor of potentially better decisions, how we're just trusting, and how that's really, really hard.

But really what I should say is that a glass of wine, some good bread, and loved ones nearby is enough. Good photographs certainly help.

Feeling Blue

2011-02-04T10:12:00.005-06:00

A bit of blue on a cold, gray day.

Happy Friday!

Photoshop, Not All That Bad

2011-02-01T18:46:00.002-06:00

I like to think of myself as a photography purist. Take a photo as "correctly" as possible and let it stand. Simple as that. But there are the occasional photos that need a little boost, or a little lightening, or a little this or a little that. In truth, a lot of my digital photos have a gray tinge to them (I still have a lot to learn), so I sometimes go back and clear them up.

I used to feel like it was cheating because, at the heart of it all, I think getting the best photo you can in the camera is worth more than any amount of Photoshopping or other digital manipulation. Knowing how to take a great photograph is an invaluable skill that can't be matched by throwing your photos into Photoshop, or Picnik or Pixlr. Ultimately, taking a great photograph will save time "fixing" it on the computer.

However. Photoshop is wicked cool. I downloaded some actions sets from the Pioneer Woman and started playing around. It's pretty addictive. So this photo, which makes my skin look really pink, became . . .
. . . this, the headshot I sent in to a new magazine I'm writing for. Better? I think so. It's got a bit of an old, film-y quality, no?
At any rate, I took a bunch of photos of Lily that otherwise would have turned out badly. I used the overhead light in the living room, which casts an unflattering, yellow light, then threw them in Photoshop, and added the black and white action and -- ta da! -- amazing photos.
Do I still think it's cheating to use Photoshop? Yes, a bit. These were not stellar photos to begin with, but now they look pretty darned good. I remember from my college photography class the ways you can manipulate a photograph in the darkroom. Using Photoshop or other programs is no different. There is no physical dodging of the edges by holding a piece of cardboard over parts of the exposure you want darkened, but there is a way to dodge a photo in Photoshop (see how the edges of these black and whites are just a bit darker?).

If I was really a photography purist, I would probably have my own darkroom. Photoshop seems like a reasonable alternative. I gather from all of this that average photos can certainly benefit from Photoshop, especially when it's as easy as clicking an "action" and letting the program do all the work.

So, go get some action sets and have some fun!

The Logistics of Film: Cameras, Film, and Processing

2011-01-31T13:38:00.004-06:00

Since I wrote about why I shoot film, I've gotten some questions about buying cameras and film, processing, and printing. I'm happy to answer questions, but I figure putting them into a post so they'll be there to refer to might be helpful. Though there's something to be said about learning on your own, these are things that I would have liked to know before I got started. It would have saved me a some money and some aggravation.

So here's my two cents on film photography for anyone who has asked and for the rest of you who haven't. Note: I am no expert when it comes to photography or shooting film or much of anything really. Also, this is copied, pasted, and modified from email correspondence with Julie. Hi Julie!

Buying a camera
I bought my film camera, a Pentax ZX-M, at a camera shop in 2001. It looks like it's a basic starter camera and would now cost about $200. I'm really happy with it.

I've seen a lot of folks on Flickr post that they've gotten their cameras at secondhand stores or on sites like Freecycle. I haven't looked at any pawn shops, but I think that might be a good place to look for any camera equipment, digital or film. Also asking friends and family members if they still have an old SLR is a good idea. People always have stuff like that tucked away in their attics.

Purchasing Film
I usually buy whatever film is on sale at Walgreens or Rite Aid. A lot of times the sale is four rolls of 200 or 400 speed film for $8-10. I have had better results with Fuji film than Kodak (that's for the non-specialty film -- I still want to shoot Kodak Portra). I haven't tried any off brand film, though I've read that they're cheap and not a bad place to start til you get your feet on the ground. I recommend getting 400 speed film unless you know you're going to have a lot of light where you shoot. Our house tends to be kind of dark and it's really hard to get a good exposure with 200 speed.

I've heard good things about these two companies, but haven't actually purchased anything from them. My next film purchase will be from B&H, and I plan to get some Portra and maybe more black and white film. The last roll of black and white I shot was Ilford HP5, which I liked, but I can get it cheaper online.

My suggestion, because it's worked for me, is stick to what's cheap and easy until you feel like you're ready to move on to something else. It's killer to shoot an entire roll and find out that only a few shots turned out. Even more killer to spend a bunch of money that you're essentially throwing away.

Processing and Printing
I have been getting my film developed at Walgreens. Unless I know I will want all the prints I ask for processing and a CD, no prints. At first I was paying to get prints made and finding that only a few shots would come out. I also was scanning them, which in my estimation is a frustrating waste of time. For $2.99 I can get the photos on a disc and don't have to spend upwards of an hour scanning and cursing the scanner because of bits of dust that end up on the image. The processing and CD cost about $8. With prints it would be about $13. Also, at Walgreens you get everything back in an hour (if you're really nice to them, they sometimes can do it faster), which is a bonus.

When I order prints, I get them from Snapfish when they're running a sale. It's not the best quality, but it's far better than the one-hour at any drug store, which has proved to be streaky and discolored. I can import my photos to Snapfish straight from Flickr, and that saves a lot of time. I have also heard good things about a company called Mpix, which offers professional-grade printing for affordable prices. Only $.99 for a 5x7. That's cheaper than Snapfish.

Final Thoughts
I thought shooting film was going to be a major expense, but I find that I can shoot about a roll a week (sometimes I can shoot a whole roll in a day!) and it evens out to about $10 a week. Of course if I start buying better film and paying for better processing, my weekly expenditure is likely to go up.

Time Together

2011-01-28T14:20:00.003-06:00

When I was a child I thought adults had nothing to worry about. I thought that once you reach adulthood all of the challenges of growing up were over so life must get easier. I thought this even though my parents got divorced.

I guess they hid the tough-ness of adulthood pretty well because any of us who are adults know that it isn't easy. I'm not here to whine about it, but to say that it's hard work making all these adult decisions and balancing work and home and family.

This week was a tough one. It was the first week I had multiple writing deadlines and meetings, in addition to teaching. I used every spare moment to get everything that needed doing done. Every spare moment, that is, except for the ones that might interfere in our family time.

I realized that the one thing I'm unwilling to give up is quality time with Lily. I will give up exercise and time alone. I will give up sleep. But when I'm spending time with my daughter, that's all that I'm doing. I don't sit at the computer or make phone calls or think about looming deadlines. When I'm with Lily, I'm simply with Lily.

But Lily goes to mom's day out three days a week, on the two mornings I teach and one extra morning that is supposedly time for me (the last two weeks it wasn't). I have time to do my work while she's at "school." If I need to, I also work while she's napping or after she's gone to bed.

So when I'm home with Lily, that's it. We read and draw and play. We have handfuls of time together, and I try to make the most of it. The busier I get though, the less willing I am to give up that time with her. What I'm getting at is that I want to be the best mom I can and that's a priority over the other things in my life. I work hard and I don't miss deadlines, but Lily and Adam are always at the top of my list.

We're all happier that way.

The Dog and the Baby

2011-01-27T18:40:00.003-06:00

This morning I was talking to my students about how everything they write has a persuasive angle to it. Simply put, there's the positive stance and the negative. (Of course, there are many shades of gray in there, but that didn't apply to the lesson or to this blog post.)

It got me thinking about the biggest issue in our home right now (now that we've gotten through the terrible week of teething, that is): the dog and the baby. Frequently before Lily was born, and even when she was a teeny little thing, Adam and I joked about how Penny and Lily would be best buddies. And that they would eventually team up to wreak havoc on us.

We sort of pictured them being like Brian and Stewie from Family Guy.

We're there. They are making us nuts. So here's my list of the positives and negatives of having a rascally dog and a toddler.

Positives:

Lily has a playmate.

Penny is extremely tolerant of Lily, who antagonizes her, lies on top of her, pulls on her, and taunts her with toys. All this in spite of Penny's breed supposedly being bad with kids.

I never have to sweep the floor after meals. For example, tonight we had rice and Lily thought it was fun to pick up handfuls of rice and toss them onto the floor. No problem, I thought. Penny would eat it all up. And she did. (Side note: Scooter, the cat, attempted to eat the rice too, but she's too much of a priss to eat that much rice.)

Penny is cute. Lily is cute. They are cute together.

Negatives:

Though Penny is very tolerant of Lily, her primary form of retaliation is compulsively licking Lily or jumping on her. A lot of tears come from these things.

Lily's favorite thing to say now is "Menny, no!" Even when Penny is nowhere to be found, and especially when Adam or I have just corrected her.

Lily seems to think she is Penny's boss. Of course, she might be mimicking how we talk to Penny, like tonight when I said, "Penny, go away," and Lily parroted, "Go away." Lord, help me.

Raking Leaves in January

2011-01-24T18:51:00.003-06:00

This weekend, in addition to grocery shopping, party going, staying up all night with a cranky teething toddler, and watching football, we raked the front yard. Finally. And by we I mean Adam and Lily. I jumped in leaf piles and snapped photos.

Nothing like lying in a pile of leaves, no matter what season the calendar says.
Adam worked and Lily worked. Gotta start 'em young. Note how Lily sticks her tongue out while she's raking because she's concentrating so hard (and showing Daddy she's doing a good job).
At the end of it all I got Adam to take a photo of me and our girl. Though getting her to look at the camera when I'm looking at the camera and for us both to be smiling is impossible. Someday we'll get it t

Raving about a Salad

2011-01-20T14:26:00.002-06:00

I don't know if you've tried this salad that was posted on 3191 a few weeks back, but -- yum! I can't seem to get enough. I think it's the grapefruit.
At any rate, I thought I'd share the recipe, a bit modified to my tastes, because it's so simple and delicious. It's enough for one large salad or two smaller salads. I found that a whole grapefruit was too much for one salad, and I throw almonds in mine for good measure. Stephanie recommends adding radishes, too. Also, the vinaigrette created with the grapefruit is amazing. I might start making it for all of our salads.

Avocado, Arugula, and Grapefruit Salad
Adapted slightly from 3191's Stephanie
who adapted it slightly from Canal House Cooking, Volume No. 4

1/2 grapefruit
1-2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper
2 handfuls of any lettuce you have lying around
1 ripe Hass avocado, halved, pitted and thickly sliced
1 handful sliced almonds

Peel and segment the grapefruit and place in a small bowl (work over the bowl so all juice falls into the bowl). Add the olive oil to the grapefruit and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Place lettuce in bowl and top with avocado, grapefruit segments, and almonds. Drizzle vinaigrette created in the bowl over the salad.

Enjoy!

Happiness, Today

2011-01-18T18:43:00.003-06:00

Lily has started initiating the blessing before our meals. At first she kept reaching out her hands to us and I thought she wanted something. She did. She wanted to pray, and she prefers we keep our prayers short, like five words or less. Amen.

Lily has also been under the weather, and when she woke from her nap this afternoon, she and I cuddled and I played with her hair and she sucked her thumb. I'll take more of that.

I have a handful of freelance prospects -- folks to call, meetings to attend, and some work already in place. Also, Adam was hired for a second job this afternoon. All this since noon yesterday. What can I say? God is good.

I've had two people offer to contribute to my Holga fund! I didn't expect anyone to help out, and I'm so pleasantly surprised. I'm still taking contributions and will reciprocate with a few prints of my photos. Just leave me a comment or send me an email.

I am feeling incredibly blessed by the good people in my life. Some I have known for many years; others I have never met in real life. But these people are true friends. They encourage my hopes and dreams. They believe in me. For them I am truly thankful. (You know who you are.)

Freelance Writer, Editor, Photographer

2011-01-17T13:51:00.002-06:00

Today has not gone as planned. I thought I was going to tell you all about how much I want a Holga camera from Urban Outfitters. I was going to tell you that it's only $48 and then I was going to beg for volunteers to contribute to my Holga fund.

But no. Today, the day before the semester starts, I found out that one of my classes was canceled due to low enrollment, a slight blow to my family's economic well-being.

Today I also dropped off my slow-going roll of black and white film for processing at a local camera shop (not Walgreens, where I usually get my film processed). When I returned home with the negatives and the disc of photo scans, I was assaulted by all of the scratches on the scans. Look at these photos closely and you can see the scratches. See the one on my nose? And the white streak across the photos of Lily and Adam? It's more infuriating than losing one of my classes. And now I have to go back, ask what happened, and see if they can fix it. Irritating.

Anyway, about work . . .

Surprisingly, I have a peaceful feeling about it. Maybe it's an answer to prayer, an answer to the question of what do I with my life. One door is closing (well, halfway), and who knows what might open. I already have two leads on freelance work that came within minutes of learning about my canceled class. God's providence? I think so.

So I'm here to say, loud and clear, that I am available for freelance writing and editing work. I am also available for freelance photography work. If you have a lead, let me know.

I'm also here to say that I'll take any and all contributions to the Lindsay Crandall Holga Fund. Your contribution will ensure you receive a complimentary print or two of any of my photographs. And who doesn't want that?

Passion & Work

2011-01-14T13:37:00.003-06:00

This is Lily's first finger painting. It has nothing to do with the rest of this post.

This was a big week for me, publishing-wise. I had two articles published in the local paper, one on a botanical drawing class with a local artist (I wish I was taking this class!) and the other about a local feed-the-homeless program called Loaves & Fish. Then, today, my latest essay went up at The Curator: "The Year of Journaling Fearlessly."

I'm learning that I really love to write. If I had my choice I would be doing a lot more of it, for pay and for myself. But, as you know, I also love photography and often consider what it might be like to have a photography business. Maybe sell prints (do people buy prints?) or shoot weddings. But I'm also a teacher, a job that is satisfying and also brings in a steady paycheck. But with teaching comes grading, and grading is a drag.

And I'm also a mom.

What a mix, right? I told Adam today that sometimes I'm very grateful to have such diverse interests because it never gets boring. On the other hand, I often feel unfocused and wish I had one passion that I was pursuing wholeheartedly, instead of a bunch of mini-passions.

The last few weeks, while I've had a break from teaching, I've been doing a lot of soul searching about all of this. I wish I could say that I've come up with the secret formula to determine how I should spend my time, the right mix of passion and income that somehow doesn't forsake family and friends. Has anyone figured this out? I haven't.

I will say that all the thinking and journaling and daydreaming I've done has helped me clarify where I might want to go. I want to write. I want to take photographs. I want to teach. I want to be a good mom. And I'm already on that path, so I just need to keep working hard and living what I love and have faith. What more can I do?

Photo Tutorial: Lenses and Faces

2011-01-13T19:15:00.003-06:00

After nap time, I bribed Lily into sitting still (sort of) while I snapped a few photos. But, boy, can that girl move. I gave her crackers, but the excitement of sitting on Mommy and Daddy's bed was too much. So the focus here is as good as it can be with a wiggly little toddler.

I thought I'd point out the difference a wide angle lens can make in faces. A wide angle lens (one with the least magnification) also skews the photograph slightly. Remember that a wide angle lens captures the widest angle, not necessarily the most accurate one. It distorts the subject, as you can see here.

18mm55mm

See how much narrower Lily's face looks in the first photo? The second photo, at 55mm, is a more accurate reflection of what her face looks like in real life. (Again, a 50mm lens is the closest to what the human eye actually sees.)

And here's where I turned the camera on myself. (Yikes!) See how much narrower my face looks in the first photo compared to the second?

18mm

55mm

It's interesting to me, too, the change in colors from the first photographs to the second, even though I didn't change the settings on the camera. Also, my self portrait is only as good as I could reach my arm, which is why my face fills the frame of the second photo better than the first. It's a testament to the magnification from 18 to 55mm.

At any rate, the second photographs of both Lily and me definitely look better than the first. And, wiggly as she is, following Lily through the lens of my camera is always time well spent (as long as she doesn't fall off the bed -- which she didn't!).

Little Girl Lily

2011-01-12T19:06:00.003-06:00

Um, where did Lily disappear to? She's barely appeared in a post on this blog since Christmas. I've talked about beer, spinning class, books, and lots of photography, but no Lily. So, what's going on with Lily? Glad you asked:

:: She pooped on the potty for the first time last night. Really. We bought her a potty for Christmas and occasionally I'll ask her if she wants to sit on it. Last night, though, she was obviously getting ready to do number two and I asked her if she wanted to sit on the potty. She ran into the bathroom, I ran after her, pulled off her diaper, and ta-da! I was stunned. Adam was stunned. She's 20 months old, and I don't feel ready for this. But she is and I am and oh-my-gosh I need to figure out how to potty train a toddler.

:: She also said "I love you" to Adam last night. (See video below.) She's repeated it before, but hadn't said it on her own until last night when I had the camera rolling. A miracle, I say.

:: She is talking up a storm. I made a list of all the discernible words she says and they total around forty. And every day she's adding more to her vocabulary. That doesn't even touch what she understands, which sometimes is unfathomable, though I've stopped underestimating her ability to understand what I say and assume she understands everything.

:: She can also say her name. Lily. It comes out "a-lee-lee," but it is the cutest thing in the history of the world. Of course I'm her mom, so . . .

:: She is very orderly. Everything has its place, and if it's out of place she is more than happy to put it back exactly where it belongs. She might find a professional career in home organization.

And that's the gist of my little daughter, my baby who is transforming into a girl, who is growing and changing and always making me glad that I'm a mom.

Photo Tutorial: Distance Between Objects

2011-01-11T14:12:00.004-06:00

Just as the sun came out this afternoon, lazy little Scooter laid in a sunny spot on the bed and I pulled out my camera. I thought I'd show you what I meant about the focal length of a lens affecting the way objects look in relation to each other in a photograph.

For each of these photos, the distance between Scooter and the glass lamp didn't change. (Like she would even think of getting up. Surely she'll still be lying there in a few hours.) What changed were the focal length of the lens and my position to Scooter.

55mm

35mm

18mm

The first shot is most zoomed in and makes Scooter and the lamp appear closer together. The last shot, the wide-angle shot, makes the lamp look tiny and distant. You can also see that with a shorter focal length more of the scene is captured, like the sun coming through the window, which didn't appear in the other two photos.

I hope these little tutorials are helpful. I'm making them partly as a reminder to myself of the things I'm learning and partly because I'm hoping they'll help you. If they do, leave me a little note. I am by no means an expert, just a lover of photography. I know many of you are too.

And, if I haven't said it recently, thanks for reading.

Right Now

2011-01-10T21:00:00.003-06:00

Lily has been waking in the middle of the night for hours on end. Then she falls back asleep. Mommy doesn't.

In my tired delirium I have been making plans I am currently incapable of executing and writing business proposals that will someday come in handy.

Meanwhile I'm shooting my first roll of black and white film. It's 36 exposures, which feels like a lot after shooting so many rolls of 24. I also have plans to send it off for developing, so the waiting will go on.

I went back through the film shots I didn't post for one reason or another and finding that I like some of them. Like these two. They didn't turn out like I planned, but that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with them. Surely that's a life lesson.

I found a spot on my digital photos, which leads me to believe my lens needs cleaning. This is a major bummer. (If you look at the tutorial photos you can see it in the lower left corner. See it? How's that for a humbling, first-tutorial experience?)

We have been watching too much Dexter on Netflix. Our Christmas gift to ourselves was a Blu-Ray player that streams Netflix and a few other programs. Fun, but dangerous. Last night I actually dreamed about Dexter. I think I need to find a good book to read.

Right now Adam is at a friend's house watching the football game and I'm baking Snickerdoodles to take to the food pantry at church tomorrow. Somehow I managed to burn my arm and set the timer for an empty oven. Which means that it's probably my bedtime.

Photo Tutorial: How Lenses Function

2011-01-07T10:03:00.004-06:00

Earlier I wrote this week about how lenses function differently and I thought I'd give a clearer picture (excuse the pun) of what that means. When I talk about focal lengths like 18mm or 55mm, I am referring to the amount of magnification in the lens. The higher the number, the more magnified. This doesn't only apply to SLRs. Point-and-shoot cameras usually have a zoom feature that's marked T or W, with T increasing magnification.

Like I said before, the lens that came with my Nikon is a 18-55mm zoom lens. At 18mm the camera captures a wider scene, like this.

18mm

Without moving closer, I zoomed in to 55mm.

55mm

For the next photo, I set the lens back to 18mm and walked closer to the dresser. Note the changes from the previous photo, particularly the distortion in the dresser. 18mm is a wide angle lens setting, meaning that it offers a wider angle of view. It also distorts the subject.

18mm

Note the same changes in the next photos. The first shot at 55mm, standing farther from the dresser; the second at 18mm and physically closer. See how the lamp gets distorted in the second photo?

55mm

18mm

Apparently a lens at 50mm responds most like the human eye, without distortion. And a low focal length captures the magnitude of a scene or tells a story, cramming as much into the photo as possible. The differences may be subtle, but I hadn't recognized these changes in the lens when changing the focal length. There are other differences, too, like how objects at a distance relate to each other in the photo when the focal length changes. You can see a bit of that in the last two photos (if the objects were farther apart, you would see the difference more clearly).

One thing this has taught me is to get physically closer to my subject when I can. Often I just zoom in if I'm not close enough and don't consider how the photo would be different (and maybe better) if I take a few steps toward my subject.

It's amazing to me what cameras are able to do. I suggest you get your camera out and play around with the focal lengths for yourself. It's a fun exercise and one small step toward becoming a better photographer.

Home Decorating: Things on Strings

2011-01-06T12:06:00.003-06:00

It was yesterday when we finally took down the Christmas decorations. We should have waited until today and pretended like we were celebrating Epiphany. The truth is, we just got lazy. The plan was to take them down on January 1.

Some things went back up to the attic and a few are still lingering around. We strung twinkle lights up over the windows in the living room, which brightens up the room quite a bit. And I took this garland that was wrapped around the tree and hung it over our bed. It's not much, but it makes our plain and boring bedroom feel a little more festive.

We now have a definite decorative theme here: things on strings. We have two inspiration wires, a banner hanging over the kitchen window, twinkle lights in the living room, and now this garland over our bed. Apparently, bakers' twine can be a very dangerous thing.

What's New (to me) in Photography

2011-01-04T18:04:00.004-06:00

A few things Bryan Peterson talks about in Learning to See Creatively have left quite an impression on me:

1. Lenses function differently. More precisely, the 18-55mm lens that came with my Nikon will take a photograph that looks different at 18mm, which requires me to be physically closer to my subject, than at 55mm. Technically, 18mm is a wide angle lens, as it gives a wider (and slightly distorted) angle of view. It is more of a storytelling lens. It's the setting I used to take these photographs.

I had always assumed that zooming in produced the same photo as not zooming in but getting closer to the subject. If I wasn't close enough, why not just zoom in? It hadn't occurred to me that the lens responds differently when set to different focal lengths.

2. Turn the camera vertically. I almost always take horizontal photos (partially because they look better on this blog), but Peterson insists that the better photo is probably the vertical one, especially if you get your subject to fill the frame. One exercise he suggests doing is shooting a photograph in the horizontal and immediately switching to the vertical. Often, he says, a better photograph will reveal itself.

3. Choose a theme. The final section of the book deals with being a career photographer, and choosing a theme on which to focus your photography. I may never be a career photographer, but I like the idea of focusing on the theme. So I may just end up taking a lot of photos of the sky in the evenings for a while because, let me tell you, it's just magnificent.

Pink Sunset

2011-01-02T18:21:00.003-06:00

Tonight, while feeding Lily dinner, I remarked to Adam that the pink house nextdoor looked especially pink tonight. "Might be the sun setting," he said. "You should run out back and take a picture."

Instead I grabbed both cameras and ran out the front door, mumbling something about being back in a minute. I walked around the corner to the high school where I knew the football field would give me the large sky I was hoping for. And it did.

It was pink and it was gorgeous and I'm glad I chased it down.

I've been feeling a little uninspired lately. Maybe it's a post-holiday slump. Maybe I just need something new. Maybe I need a photography mentor. I don't know.

I read through Bryan Peterson's Learning to See Creatively in two days, and it helped. A lot.

So did this sunset, which was more magnificent than any photograph could capture. For someone who swore she wouldn't pick up either camera today and ended up shooting an entire roll of film and a pink sunset, I would say that I was inspired enough. A good feeling.

[Incidentally, Peterson's Understanding Exposure, which I read last year, changed the way I take pictures. His books are really, really helpful, and I recommend them to anyone who wants to be a better photographer.]