Under My Turquoise Umbrella

the little bird is free from the cage.

2011-12-08T17:05:00.001-05:00

Was that was my dramatic way of saying that, as of today, I have officially completed this semester? Maybe.

Or.

It could be referring to the most precious, adorable-est necklace I found today at Bealls Outlet when Elisabeth and I were on our "school is out for the semester, so therefore it's a good day to go to the mall."

It's kind of like our "the sun is shining, so therefore it's a good day to go to the mall." Not to be confused with our "it's raining today, so therefore it's a good day to go to the mall" or our "it's a day of the week, so therefore it's a good day to go to the mall."

Anyhow.

Here 'tis. A little turquoise bird chirping cheerfully in its li'l cage on the end of a chain.

It makes me happy.

Jewelry and books. Hard to surpass. ;-)

i'll be seeing you

2011-11-20T13:56:00.000-05:00

In approximately two weeks and several days, I will re-enter a world. A world that is void of pencils, scantrons, and calculators. Oh, and math problems that would be better off getting a professional to solve their issues instead of asking me for help.

I look a mess. You wouldn't recognize me on the street if you happened to run into me. Which there isn't much chance of since this is the blogosphere. You should be thankful for that. You really wouldn't want to suffer the misfortune of ruining a perfectly good day by happening across a sniffling/coughing/shoulders drooping/yawning person like me with the dark circles under her eyes. My appearance could be due to school-related stress or it could have something to do with this cold I've caught by the tail and can't let go. Maybe both.

So how is it? The real world, I mean? Refresh my memory. I've come close to forgetting.

A random photo from our trip to Charleston several months ago. It reminds me of all the loveliness that awaits me in the real world. I'm coming...

Ha. Pity my poor, corny self.

Despite various repercussions, I really have enjoyed this semester. My classes have been great, the instructors have been awesome, and I've met some pretty cool people. I guess I'm just ready for one of those--what is it called? A break? I think that's it.

Aside from school, my life has been school. And maybe a little bit else. How 'bout I share a random numbered list of what has been and will be? Yes? Only since numbers offend me right now due to a difficult math class, we'll use the good 'ole alphabet instead. I always knew I loved those sweet twenty-six letters.

A) We recently acquired a big.

Did I say big? I meant to type "pig." Oh, just roll with it. With the way she eats, she'll be the size of a hippopotamus in just a few short weeks.

Just kidding about that last part, y'all. I don't know why I resorted to the absurd like that. Allow me to correct myself:

With the way our pig eats, she'll be the size of Manhattan in a few short weeks.

A lousy webcam photo. That's her in the middle surrounded by her fans.

See, one of the men Dad works with raises pigs. This one's mama died so she needed a lot of TLC. She's a dear who cried piggy tears to be fed round the clock for the first week or so. It was a task that fell to my twin sister and I.

Why yes, I have become a pig mama. It's fabulous. I really don't know what my sleep-deprived nights would be without her.

Her name is Sugar Baby and this is her Rubbermaid Suite. It comes complete with a green polka dot ribbon, a "Think Pink" sign crafted by Ellie, a "Princess Pig" drawing, and last but not least, a pink froggy pillow for her royal head. She declined to sleep on it as she didn't want anyone to get the idea that she was spoiled.

Yeah, despite my grumbling, she really is the most precious li'l bit of bacon you ever laid eyes one. We love her.

B) I've had photo shoots lately. We did the one below at the nearby historic village and museum--a place that is uber-neat in itself.

These two are fun. And they named their dog after F. Scott Fitzgerald. How completely awesome is that?

I love this shot. Literary people are so much fun.

And yes, those are indeed two volumes of Shakespeare. To read or not to read, that is the question.

C) Thanksgiving is just around the corner and I am excited. Well, that is probably wording it just a bit too strongly. I'm not all that excited. I am only utterly thrilled, elated, and ecstatic over the prospect of Thanksgiving.

He might not be, but that's beside the point. This isn't his blog.

I guess it would sound obligatory to say that I am so incredibly thankful for God, my family, and my friends, but I just did. And it's true.

D) I hope that you lovely people have a very blessed Thanksgiving. I apologize to friends who have emailed--I haven't forgotten you and will reply very soon. Until then, I'll be seeing you.

>>Um hum, I'm aware that the post title doesn't match with the meaning of the song, but let's just go with it. After all, anytime is a good time for Billie Holiday, Michael Buble, Frank Sinatra, or whichever artist you listen to.

We Be Huntin'

2011-10-22T20:42:00.001-04:00

Throughout this post, you will be subjected to me occasionally lapsing into my idea of a Cajun accent.

You be forewarned.

Note the camo and the expressions that would strike fear in the heart of any squirrel, deer, or hog alive.

We be huntin'.

Yesterday afternoon, a few of the brave-hearted in our family ventured into the swamp with tents, gear, food, and all those other things that one believes to be necessary on a camping trip until the time comes when one must lug it into a boat and across the river.

We be brave explorers.

He be Indiana Zander.

My Canon EOS was left behind (it fears the water since its owner is a klutz). Instead, I brought along my phone and took photos with the camera in it. The quality is low, but I figured it was best to document our trip with a poor camera than not to document it all. It resulted in not having photos of everyone because I didn't have enough memory (I'm sorry, Papa, Uncle Ricky, and Carlie--we know in our hearts that y'all were there and we love y'all).

The river was low--extremely low--but nevertheless beautiful. I really could live beside it one day. Just think, I would be able to listen to that running water for the rest of my life with Spanish moss waving in the breeze overhead. A pleasant picture.

(Tent buddies)

In the evening, we sat around the campfire to roast marshmallows and such. They were talking about how many of the "O. Family girls" resemble Indian tribes (i.e. the Creek, the Chippewa, the Cherokee). Seven year old John with his blonde hair and blue eyes suddenly gestured toward himself, Zander, and his cousin, Jhett, and said,

"Well, we're the Chihuahua Boys!"

He thought that a "chihuahua" was an Indian tribe.

The rest of our night was...interesting. All manner of noises erupted occasionally and once it sounded as though something bumped the boat that was tied to the shore several yards away. They (meaning the bold and truly brave of our group) believe it was probably a gator as they had seen several of them critters earlier.

It be scary.

Elisabeth be an annoying cousin and Jhett be shy.

John...and the slightly eerie willow-the-wisp.

So...please tell me you've seen someone in the middle of the swamp wearing a big turquoise housecoat over all her other clothing in an effort to stay warm? No? Hmm. I don't think my family had either for I received a few strange looks.

I probably resembled a snowman. But I like to think of myself as a fluffy, stylishly dressed snowman.

When it was time to hunt hogs in the morning, Elisabeth and I did not know how to navigate the swamp on our own, so we followed around a guide. A slightly Mr. Know-It-All fourteen-year-old guide, but a guide just the same. In an effort to protect the guilty, I won't name names (I certainly won't drop your name, Wesley, anywhere in this blog post).

See, Elisabeth and I were certain that the river was located in a different direction and our guide continued to smugly tell us that, no, it was not that way. He said that our way would lead us into two thousand acres of swampland and that his way would lead us to the river. So we followed his way and this is where it led us:

I dislike it when Mr. Know-It-All's knowitallism proves correct, mostly because eating crow isn't pleasant.

Anyhow, I oohed and ahhed over the picturesque scene and tried to capture a decent photo with my phone.

"Isn't this great?" I asked Elisabeth and Wesley.

"Uh huh. It's beautiful."

I nodded in happy agreement and proceeded to take another photo, drinking in the glorious view with my siblings. Or so I thought. I glanced up after a moment to see their orange safety vests disappearing into the brush.

They be focused on killing hogs. They not be appreciatin' the most beautiful things in life. Tsk.

We finished our hunting trip earlier today with but a few squirrels to show for our time. But, we be havin' our photos.

And our memories.

And our conversations about a certain guide/brother who ended up getting lost and having to flag down a boat after an hour of wandering in that vast swampland. (But you be not hearin' that from me).

Yawn. Well, I'm tired and bed calls. I'll abandon my Cajun accent now since I be done writing this post.

Oops--sorry. It be coming to be a habit. ;)

when autumn comes.

2011-10-18T12:41:00.000-04:00

The calendar might profess it to be autumn, but in reality--it simply isn't. Around here, anyway. Temperatures have remained high, resulting in the continued wearing of short-sleeves and flip-flops. Something I'm all for...during the summer. I confess that I'm truly ready to break out the turtlenecks and scarves full-time.

In other news, school has been...hectic. Thankfully, we received a 'fall break' of sorts in the form of a long weekend and so were able to visit with family near Madison. Ah, now there's where it feels a bit more like autumn. There's a slight nip in the air during the evenings, causing one to shiver happily. And did I mention the landscape? The rolling green pastures contrast nicely with the fiery reds and shades of orange of the tree leaves.

In celebration of the gorgeous colors, most of the siblings went outside for a fall photo shoot.

This is me in a seventies-esque photo.

I can't play a guitar to save my life. This fact resulted in a expression equivalent to one of an individual wandering around a parking lot and searching for his/her vehicle while trying to look confident and yet feeling like a cat struggling to stay afloat in a pool.

Or something like that.

This is Ellie. She can't play a guitar to save her life either.

But she's an expert on the violin, so we can cut her a little slack.

Zander here is a child-prodigy on the thing and has already made several world tours showcasing his talent.

Yeah. Or not. But doesn't he look cute?

Elisabeth.

My brother who's growing up faster than a Wesley should be growing. He can't play a guitar to save his life either. But doesn't he look cute, too?

Our weekend is drawing to a bittersweet close and Elisabeth and I return to our classes tomorrow. Fall break spent with family was a real blessing and just what I needed to recharge. And even though we lack the autumn weather that I so greatly want here in South Georgia, life feels just right.

How are you doing, reader? :)

sporadic.

2011-10-04T20:24:00.001-04:00

I pretty much envy people who are able to juggle schoolwork and maintain a blog.

Me? I cain't.

I'm about eight weeks into this semester and I honestly believed I could be a creative bloggity blogger while still keeping up with my classes. Ha.

Wait. Hold up. I'm suspecting I don't have your whole undivided attention. I think you're still trying to figure out if the word 'cain't' was intentional or if that rebel 'i' tippy-toed in there by accident. Let me assure you, it was deliberately inserted to emphasize my poor multitasking abilities. Let's further stress this fact:

I cain't, cain't, cain't.

There. I feel better. :) In all honesty, school will just about squeeze any creative juices you might have had right out of you. So my posts for the next, ah, two months will probably be more sporadic than they already have been. I still want to share about our trip to Charleston, our family reunion in the mountains, and how much our dear little ~~Muffle Puffles~~ AJ Tiger John Wayne is growing.

But as of right now, I have a math test in the morning, so...goodnight, friends.

(An old photo I found of me and Elisabeth. We really haven't changed much since...we're both still short and I still don't enjoy being photographed.We finally did outgrow those footie pajamas though.)

Sweet Breakfast Memories (Literally)

2011-09-14T16:18:00.001-04:00

This post is almost wordless. Because a cinnamon roll doesn't need describing. It can stand on its own icing, thank you.

After seeing these images, I suggest you either go bake yourself some cinnamon rolls or click off this post. I don't have the means of preparing cinnamon rolls at the moment, so I'm just going to click off. My taste buds just can't handle the agony.

You didn't know that taste buds experience drama? They do. Oh, they do.

Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning?

2011-09-11T12:41:00.002-04:00

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?
Out in the yard with your wife and children
Or working on some stage in LA
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of
That black smoke rising against that blue sky
Did you shout out in anger
In fear for your neighbor
Or did you just sit down and cry

Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below

Did you burst out in pride
For the red white and blue
The heroes who died just doing what they do
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself to what really matters

I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith, hope, and love are some good things He gave us

And the greatest is love.

Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)- Alan Jackson

I'm in a little cabin in the North Georgia mountains this September 11th, but I remember where I was on this day ten years ago. I don't really recall the big details--those have simply faded from memory. It's the small, seemingly insignificant things that have lingered and remained.

I remember I was about ten years old and doing schoolwork in my bedroom when the phone rang. My grandparents next door were calling, telling us to turn on our TV.

I remember the heavy weight of dread that settled in my stomach as I watched those images of the planes crashing into those towers.

I remember leaning on the chair beside the television set, my mouth open as those scenes were set to replay. Over and over.

I remember the horror as we witnessed clips of firefighters, policemen, and other public workers dashing into those burning buildings.

I remember the fear. I was afraid for months that Osama Bin Laden would somehow find his way to our house.

I remember the chills that ran up and down my arms as I watched Republicans and Democrats put aside their political differences for a short time to join hands and sing "God Bless America."

I remember praying.

We should never forget those men and women from that day. And even though ten years have passed, our prayer should still be that God would please bless America.

Where were you on this day ten years ago?

south carolina, low country

2011-09-06T13:51:00.000-04:00

For my family, Labor Day Weekend entailed a mini-vacation to Charleston, SC. I had never been and so drank in every sight, smell, and sound.

Oh yes, and captured everything I could with my camera.

In short, this post is the calm before the storm. The post preceding the one that will be stuffed with every photo imaginable. The post that will leave your browser gasping for breath at the amount of photos to load and saying, "Never visit her blog again. Did you hear me? Never." And then it threatens to go on strike should you try.

Below you will find a video I put together of our fun time. Click 'play' to enjoy the best five minutes of your life.

Of the past hour.

Of the last ten minutes.

Oh, you know you have nothing better to do at the moment. ;)

Note: The girl in the blue is me. The girl in the black is Elisabeth. And everyone else is everyone else. I'm assuming you'll be able to distinguish Mom from Dad, Gangy from Ellie, Wesley from--

Cough. Please proceed.

South Carolina, Low Country from Erin O. on Vimeo.

Simply Because

2011-08-29T13:40:00.000-04:00

Simply because Mom's birthday was earlier last week, we traveled to the Dairy Queen.

The Dairy Queen which is about twenty miles away.

Which is okay because I would travel a lot farther than that for Dairy Queen icecream.

(The photo above is not of Dairy Queen. We might live in the South, but our Dairy Queen's do not look like old brick buildings. That right there is...an old brick building. It's on the other side of the parking lot behind a red fence with a chicken strip sign).

I'm glad I could be here to clarify that for you.

Simply because this young lady right here was the birthday girl, she needed a birthday photo. The clapping of the hands is a typical pose for this mama when she is excited about something.

She had ordered a Reeses icecream.

I'll leave it to your deduction to decide what she might have been excited about.

Simply because the 'Life is a Highway' song from the Cars soundtrack was playing on the radio and this angle looked much like Radiator Springs.

Later, Mater.

(By the way, this photo right here is not of the Dairy Queen. We might live in the South, but our Dairy Queen's do not look like old brick buildings--

I think we might have been over this already.)

Simply because photos of Butterfinger icream in front of the dashboard with an old flea market in the background are classic.

Just classic.

Simply because one can never have too many photos of Butterfinger icecream.

It's a mixture of tiny chunks of a Butterfinger bar with much vanilla icecream added for good measure.

In short, it equals happiness of the taste buds.

Simply because the price of gas has gone down a couple of cents and deserved a 'pat on the back' photo.

Simply because Ellie was trying to eat her Georgia Fudge Mudslide icecream and it was fun to shove the phone's camera in her face and ask annoying, rhetoric questions.

Is the icecream good?

Is the icecream delicious?

Is the icecream melt-in-your-mouth-and-turn-cartwheels-in-the-grass yummy?

Am I repeating myself?

Ellie, why aren't you answering me?

She loves icecream.

And she loves me in spite of me.

Simply because summer days are speeding past and will creep into autumn the very moment that we blink.

Simply because we sometimes need to stop and smell the roses, er, taste the iceream, of this sweet, simple, sometimes sad, more often happy, blessed, beautiful life.

Simply because.

~~~~

A big congratulations to Dodi for being voted the winner of the {Framed} Photo Challenge with her awesome 'fairytale-esque' photo! I'll contact you shortly and we can go through getting your prize to you. :)

Have a great day, friends!

vote now

2011-08-15T07:44:00.000-04:00

It's taken me much longer than it should've, but I've finally added a poll to my sidebar for you to vote on your favorite photo from my {Framed} Photo Challenge.

The entries to cast your vote for are:

Nela from Beloved Star

Dodi from Someday My Prince Will Come

Alli from Waiting for Rain

Thanks a bunch to the three of you for entering each of your lovely photos and good luck!

~~~~~~

Before we say adios, I wanted to share this slightly messy hairstyle with you. I saw a photo of it on Pinterest with directions. So I tried it out. It requires sectioning your hair into two braids, tying the braids together in the back, and pinning with as many bobby pins as it takes.

See? Simple, quick, and easy. Given you have bobby pins. I had to buy a pack just so I could do this hairstyle as my other pack disappeared some time ago.

Let me give you a quick lesson. *leans forward and lowers voice*

Keep your friends close and your bobby pins closer.

I kid you not. If you want to create pretty hairstyles, you must take my advice to heart. For bobby pins have an odd way of vanishing one by one until you're forced to break down and purchase their replacements at Wal-Mart. So keep one eye on them even in sleep lest they sprout tiny centipede legs and crawl away. I'm pretty sure it happens.

Well, do you have a better theory? ;-)

Have a great day, friends. Please don't forget to vote!

~Erin

A Kitten's Tale

2011-08-11T09:16:00.000-04:00

Hello, hi there, hey y'all! Guest posting today on the blog is your one and only AJ Tiger John Wayne. That's me, right there, the suave and handsome guy in the photo.

Got that? Suave and handsome. I don't want to hear anyone even breathe the word 'cute' in my presence. There are many other 'c' words at your disposal such as 'cool', 'confident', 'charismatic', and a brilliant sense of humor.

That last one is actually not a 'c' word. I just wanted you to know.

It's a hard life around this place for sure. *yawn*

So I moved in with the O. Family about a month or so ago and have gotten along rather well with everyone. Pretty much. Have you seen the furry lump they keep around this place that might as well be a vegetable instead of a feline?

Uh huh. Him. Oliver. No, I'm not sharing a photo of him. I noticed he gets enough space of this blog devoted to him already. Me, I sort of have a love/hate relationship with the guy. My immediate thought when I first saw him was 'Country Bumpkin Pumpkin.' So I told him so. And that seemed to get our introduction off on the wrong paw. But I was just being honest. He does look like a big fur covered pumpkin.

I do like him well enough, especially as he makes a great fluffy punching bag and will occasionally put his paw around me when he's having a good day. Which isn't often.

To put it bluntly, the guy's a grump.

Case in point, I snuck up on him yesterday as he was doing what he does best: sleeping. (I really think he believes it to be an extreme sport). I decided he wasn't losing any pounds just lying there like a blob, so I grabbed him around the neck with my paws to heft him up. It wouldn't be an easy task for the average kitten as the guy has to weigh at least ninety to five hundred pounds. But you'll notice in the above photo that my paws and claws are made of steel and could easily rip through the leg of an antelope with a single swipe.

My middle name is Tiger, after all. I'm pretty sure it's what I'd be doing if I'd ended up on the Serengeti instead of this place.

Anyway, I hefted his head up with my mighty paws and was met with hisses, growls, and yes, even a snarl.

Well, excuseee me for not seeing the 'No Touchy' sign, pal. Just go ahead and gain more weight lying there all day.

It's true. Yesterday, he slept in the same spot beside the front door for eight hours. *taps microphone with paw* Eight hours, people. Now if I were to pull a stunt like that, my owners would scoop me up to pat me and shake me and hug me while contemplating why I was so lethargic (their word, not mine). I know. It's happened before. A guy like me can't take a nap around here without his health being questioned.

The constant attention can definitely get a bit stressful. Earlier, I was trying to decide who had placed the rug upside down on the carpet. The tags were showing and it looked tacky.

That's when I felt eyes...or something...on me thanks to my keen awareness abilities.

Abandoning my contemplation of the tacky rug, I glanced up to find Erin pointing that camera of hers in my direction. Again.

Sheesh. The paparazzi never ceases. I have someone looking at me or holding me almost every second of the day. Between you and me, I believe that Erin and her sister, Elisabeth, are experiencing 'Youngest Brother has Grown and There is no Longer a Baby in the House to Cuddle' syndrome. Don't laugh. I've heard it's common.

The fact that they're relieving their anxiety by coddling me has its perks and pitfalls.

A perk? They'll do anything I ask. I have them trained that well. Illustration of my point? The youngest sister, Ellie, has a violin stand with little metal stringlike things that swing when brushed against. I saw it from below and was staring at it, thinking how much fun it would be to bat with my paw.

I heard an 'Awww' from above and was suddenly lifted to my destination.

One kitty going up.

I explored the stand to my heart's content and was only put down when I told my flunky- I mean, when I told Elisabeth she could do so.

After I was lowered, I scampered off to another corner of the room. That's when I heard Elisabeth say that I was so cute. (I'm used to it as I hear the word about every waking moment). And Erin remarked that she hoped I'd never do anything dumb like run into the road. I thought she was being considerate until she added, "Especially not after the bill from his last veterinarian's appointment."

Maybe she was being humorous, I don't know. I thought it rather morbid and uncouth of her, but didn't say so. Given time, I'm sure she'll learn one important fact of life:

The cost of flea treatment is overshadowed by the payment of pure love.

Does that make sense? It sounds good. You have my permission to add it to your collection of inspirational quotes or to use it as a Facebook status. I've got a million of 'em.

Come to think of it, I should share it with Erin using my best John Wayne impersonation (oh, yes, I do a mean impersonation of 'The Duke.'). That should make it resonate in her soul and take root. She sighs at anything he says anyway.

Now, I hear you asking what's one of the pitfalls to the constant attention I receive and I'll tell you.

Nicknames. The names I've heard myself called include (but are not limited to):

Mongoose

Baby

Chuckles

Muzzy

Maxwell

Sweetie-kins

And last, but certainly not least:

Mr. Muffle Puffles.

If they were only embarrassing me from my ears to the tip of my tail, I could handle it. But when someone outright offends my masculinity... I mean, one of my names is John Wayne, after all. You wouldn't hear them calling him Chuckles or...Mr. Muffle Puffles.

So yes, it's a life filled with grumps, kitten huggers, and blush-worthy nicknames, but I've learned to be patient with the individuals in my life for the most part. I mainly just keep silent about their faults. What's done is done and you won't hear me bringing it up again.

But for the record, I don't chuckle. I purr. I meow. I roar.

I don't chuckle.

It's anyone's guess where they got that one.

Country Girls Can't Survive

2011-08-09T12:23:00.001-04:00

"Erin, what are you doing?"

My answer was low, muffled. "Nothing."

"Come on, Erin, I'm not scared of it." His deepening voice had lost almost all its cracking in the past several months and he sounded more like a man. "It feels like riding a roller-coaster."

I don't like riding roller-coasters, thank you very much, I thought from my corner of the world where my face was buried into his green polo sleeve. We were riding around the outskirts of Atlanta and my brother, Wesley, had been fortunate enough to be seated next to me.

The lucky guy.

You might not have known this about me, but here's something to add to your little 'Erin Trivia' list: I'm an extraordinarily fun person to ride with in heavy Atlanta traffic. I clutch the nearest object until my knuckles are white, hide my face in the shoulder of whoever is beside me, and squeeze my eyes shut.

Oh yeah, it's a real blast.

Please cue the peaceful strains of music accompanied by bird song. Thank you.

See this? This was my view the morning before we left for Atlanta...

...And this was my view the next.

You may cue Beethoven's 5th Symphony. Dun dun dun dun.

I actually enjoy oohing and ahhing over the line of tall buildings cloaked and shrouded in heavy...fog. Smog. Mist.

Oh, shmog-fog. Whatever it is you call it.

It's a neat sight.

So is this.

And this. The lines, the symmetry, the reflection of the sky--it's all cool.

But this. These winding curves enclosed by concrete slabs with a million different folks speeding past on either side? Not cool.

It scares my mini-muffin heart senseless.

On Saturday morning, we awoke early and maneuvered through the traffic and exits and freeways to find the college campus where Dad was competing in the Locate Rodeo.

No, he doesn't ride bulls. Or broncs. Aside from being a pastor, he also has a job locating underground utilities. Just thought I should clear that up for you.

One big boy on campus.

Two big boys on campus.

This competition is actually a pretty big thing with people flying in from all over the U.S, Canada, and even Australia. So it was important that we be there to cheer Dad on and give his competitors the big stink-eye. ;-)

We reached the campus with the help of the GPS and breathed an audible sigh of relief on finally arriving at our destination.

And then we proceeded to walk around for two hours trying to find Dad at the events.

Two hours. It was a big campus, and yes, my feet did hurt.

We finally made it with help from two ~~volunteers~~ angels on a golf cart. I could have hugged them both breathless and proceeded to hug them again.

I didn't, but I could have.

And here is Dad in action during an event. His loving and exhausted family sat on a grassy hill beneath a tree to watch.

After it was over, we made our way back to the family Tahoe to buckle up and prepare for the, ahem, roller-coaster ride back to the hotel. Happy day.

Dun DUN

Du DUN DUNNNN.

Help me, someone.

I'm not a wimp. I'm not.

I don't think.

But I'm used to a traffic jam being a few cars backed up behind a John Deere tractor...and then waving to the man driving the tractor as you pass. Not because you necessarily know them (although the chances of it being a cousin or neighbor are pretty high), but because it's the friendly thing to do.

I didn't see anyone smiling and waving at me through Atlanta.

It could be because my usual view was Wesley's shoulder, but that's beside the point.

Life is has such a fast pace in the city, speeding past you as fast as the tires on your respective vehicle can spin.

I made a point of looking for anyone riding around in the back of a pick-up truck with their feet dangling a few inches above the road.

I looked, but I didn't see anyone doing that.

Everyone is driving so fast and some seem so distracted that there comes a point when I'm ready to offer some polite mental suggestions to these particular drivers.

Okay, that there conversation on your cell can wait until later. Like, when you're at home later. That kind of later. When someone isn't beside you.

Dude, my man, get yo fingers off those keys. Get yo phone off that steering wheel. And get yo eyes on this busy road before you careen your 12 wheeler semi into someone.

Please and thank you. ;-)

'The Brady Bunch'

The fact that Dad ended up winning 1st Overall in the division he entered did help smooth my ruffled self. A lot. We couldn't stop smiling as it was quite the exciting night.

And look! You get to meet the infamous green polo that I became so well-acquainted with over the course of the trip. I know you were dying for an introduction, so there you are.

You're welcome.

In the morning, it was time for the return trip home. To the country. I piled into the family Tahoe, bringing along the memories, my toothbrush, and the conclusion that country girls can't survive in city traffic. Or at least this one can't.

And in case you're wondering, Elisabeth ended up sitting beside me. Wesley sat on the far end of the seat for the entire trip.

I'm still trying to figure out why.

a veritable mish mash.

2011-08-05T21:56:00.000-04:00

This is my view from the window right now. It's pretty, isn't it? I love it. While I'm a country girl all the way, there's something about the city at night--seeing the sparkly lights never fails to excite me. It's true that the city never sleeps. I can see it all from up here.

We're near Atlanta right now for a competition that Dad's work sends him to every year. That means us staying in a hotel for a few days. Which means sleeping on the cozy hotel mattresses, finding raspberry chocolates left on the pillows, and having an awesome view from the top floor.

Oh, and swimming in the indoor/outdoor pool. Can't forget the indoor/outdoor pool.

Did I mention that I love the hotel's indoor/outdoor pool?

~~~~~~

As many of you know, I love collecting quotes.

As many of you also know, I love playing with my Adobe Photoshop program.

So in addition to some other projects I've been working on lately, I've created a few simple designs that I'm thinking of selling as prints in my Etsy store.

What do you think?

~~~~~~

Remember my yellow dress post several months ago? While I never found a yellow dress then, here 'tis a dress that my Aunt Karen so sweetly gave to me and Elisabeth last week.

I was happy, excited, and all those other sunshiney feelings that come with wearing a yellow dress. Since Elisabeth is not much for photo shoots, Ellie and I decided to head down to the pond several days ago and have a yellow dress/floral dress photo shoot for fun.

Because that's what we do.

~~~~~~

I've been ~~really~~ slightly ~~obsessed~~ taken with listening to music from the 1964 film, 'My Fair Lady', starring the lovely Audrey Hepburn. I've never seen the whole movie (some language, I believe), but I absolutely, positively, completely love this song:

Just ask my family. They're subjected to listening to me belt out "I could have danced, danced, danced all nightttttttt..." whenever I'm at the sink doing dishes. Or cleaning the living room. Or sitting on the laptop blogging.

Actually, I sing it wherever I am.

But it's totally not an obsession.

~~~~~~~

If you didn't know it before, you've probably guessed that the reason for the title is because this post has been a complete mish mash.

We'll try for a bit more poetic and refined title next time. ;)

Ciao for now, friends!

The Individual's Guide to Living With Gnats

2011-08-01T11:38:00.003-04:00

During the summer in South Georgia, there are two types of conversation starters that you will likely hear most:

A) "It sure has been hot, hasn't it?"

and

B) "The gnats are terrible this year, aren't they?"

Of these two questions, B) will often receive the most intense response. Why? Few people know the summer definition of torment until they have spent several hours fanning away hoards of gnats. The heat might be excruciating, but the swarms of these creatures attacking your being from every side succeeds in quadrupling the agony.

You know the classic scene from the movie "Singin' in the Rain" where the main character does a perfectly choreographed song and dance? Here, we reenact that scene every time we step outdoors. "Singin' in the Gnats" is what we call it. We skip outdoors with a smile on our face and a song on our lips.

Well, it's actually more of a Eeyore-ish trudge at the chore of going outside. And we're really not smiling. And we try to keep the song in our hearts because if we opened our mouths, the gnats would fly in.

Other than that though, it's almost identical.

If you're a citizen of South Georgia, then you understand what we mean and will join in the conversation with gusto to detail your intense dislike of our resident gnats.

If you're a visitor from a northern state or even North Georgia, you're likely not engaging in conversation at all. You've either wound up in the emergency room with gnatatic shock or have lost consciousness altogether. The gnats don't mind. It gives them opportunity to swarm without receiving resistance.

Whether you're a local or a visitor to our ~~gnat-infested~~ great state, the following guide with its breathtaking illustrations will offer solutions and tips for effectively dealing with the miniscule creatures that some believe are conspiring to take over the world.

Read for your safety, sanity, and the fact that it's always nice to avoid a trip to the ER from gnatatic shock.

There's nothing more annoying than trying to eat while a group of tiny insects flock your food. There's also nothing more annoying than hearing the traditional responses to complaints in this area of "Oh, they won't eat much" or "Just ignore the gnats and eat. If you swallow a few, that's alright. They're nutritious."

The jury's still out on whether that last one holds any gnat of truth. We have our doubts.

One guaranteed solution to your gnat dilemma is to position yourself in front of a small electric fan. Its cool breeze will send the critters flying. Yes, this is indeed the answer to your problem.

Except you won't be able to move away from the fan. Or get any work done. For the gnats will attack your face the second you step out of the line of blowing air.

While the previous solution might have been riddled with a few holes, this next idea is sure to work. It is genius in its simplicity, really, and won't cost you a cent.

Stay inside.

That's right. Hide in the safety of your home 24/7 with the doors locked and the blinds closed. You might become as pale as mayonnaise during the summer months from lack of sunshine, but you will have successfully avoided the pesky gnats.

Except that you won't have any means of accessing food. Or interacting with others. And there is the small fact that gnats have the curious habit of finding their way indoors no matter what you do.

This next technique is fairly easy to master for Southerners and Northerners alike and will solve your gnat afflictions better than the first two solutions. It requires sticking out your bottom lip, like so, and blowing upward.

Try it a few times right now. As always, practice makes perfect. Don't be discouraged if you fail to master this technique the first or thirtieth time around. When you do, it will change your life.

Except that it's difficult to talk and blow at the same time. Which will limit your conversational ability. And we have received reports in the past of broken bottom lips due to overuse.

If the previous solutions still have not worked for you, fear not. We have saved the best for last. Take a moment to look down at the appendages on the ends of your arms.

That's right! You have not one, but TWO hands! While the first is occupied with doing whatever task you've set out to accomplish, the other may fan the gnats away. It will take time to master doing everything with one hand, but we're confident in your ability. Plus, you will look like a friendlier person as most will assume you're waving at them.

It's a win/win technique.

We're looking forward to learning about the lives that have been changed from reading this guide.

Hey, peoples, I've been out of town, so I haven't been commenting back as I should, but I did want to let you know how much I appreciate your comments on the past two posts. Also, the link-up on my photo challenge hasn't been working--it's fixed now, but I've extended the deadline until August 8th. :)

{Three Things} That Normal People Wouldn't Do

2011-07-27T08:31:00.000-04:00

There are things, certain oddities, that normal people simply wouldn't do.

Below you will find lovely examples that illustrate what I mean.

1. In the first place, normal people wouldn't find themselves stretched out on the ground in the front yard with corners of the brick walkway gouging into their hands and knees. And they certainly wouldn't be doing it to photograph an ant hill.

Especially not an ant hill they thought resembled a miniature castle.

Normal people wouldn't smile at the irony of the ant population building their ~~kingdom~~ ant hill in front of the 'Welcome' sign and hurry to take more pictures.

Normal people probably wouldn't try to convince you that those little rises in the ~~castle~~ ant hill really do resemble turrets and towers.

No, normal people probably wouldn't do that.

2. Normal people wouldn't spend several minutes of their time photographing their mother's childhood globe and smile with satisfaction at their supposed flawless photo of an American schoolroom.

Normal, observant people would have already come to the realization that Australia has changed locations and is closer to where the North Pole should be.

And normal people probably wouldn't console themselves with the thought that their discovery saved their homeschooled siblings from future failure in the subject of geography...only to realize that it is still summer vacation.

3. Normal people wouldn't think that eggplants looked like a little elfin couple. And they certainly wouldn't spend five minutes photographing the elves--I mean, eggplants. No, normal people wouldn't do that.

They certainly wouldn't name the little eggplants either. This blog author might, but she wouldn't share those names. Names that made her family laugh and tell the blog author that she simply was not right. She certainly would not share those with you.

Dearest blog reader, I have reached the startling conclusion that I am not normal. But that's okay. It's those who are not normal--the people who sing in the rain, fly kites in a storm, and...photograph eggplants--these are the individuals whose names will forever live in the annals of history one day.

Or so I'm willing to believe.

Love and normalcy always,
~Erin

and so I write.

2011-07-25T10:54:00.000-04:00

I've seen the popular bloggers--the ones with a following of hundreds or even thousands. I know what they write about. I enjoy reading their posts, whether they focus on fashion, design, photography, or regularly pour out their thoughts and feelings. I'm attracted to that. I applaud their creativity, originality, and transparency.

And yet.

With every wonderful post I read, the thought of "Why can't I be more like that?" pops into mind. Uh huh. The question that has plagued human beings--particularly the female side--long before blogging was in existence. I ask it. Often. Maybe it's a matter of pride on my part. I want to be a good writer, a writer whose works touch people or causes them to think. Humorous photo essays may produce a laugh or two, but rarely invite accolades or emails detailing a change in the reader's life.

Time and again, something comical will happen around the house or with my family and I'll think, I need to blog about this. So I do. Because it cements memories in my mind. The little things, the amusing conversations. I don't want to lose them. But after I complete such a post and press the Publish button, I'll walk away, thinking to myself, Next time, next time, I'll post something with more depth or significance. And sometimes I do, but I can't force it. Only very rarely does it come effortlessly. More often, I'll find myself typing away on a humorous piece again, eager to write it down and share.

In so doing, I think I've settled into my niche. It feels comfortable. Right. No matter the amount of comments I receive or the number of hits my blog gets, I'm documenting the life God has blessed me with. Has blessed my family with. A life complete with its ups, downs, dents, nicks, and imperfections, but laced around the edges with the small, funny, and seemingly insignificant moments that we'll remember--one day--as the moments that mattered most. These days won't last forever, I know that.

And so I write.

An Adventure in Awesomeness

2011-07-23T09:08:00.001-04:00

The bedroom I share with my sisters is a bright, cheery, happy place. When it's clean. Which is why I'm giving you a tour of it now. While it's clean.

So that you too can experience bright, cheery, and happy feelings. While it's clean.

I'm glad we made it through the complicated logistics. Please come in.

The door on your left is the one we just opened. The door to your right could be the entrance to my secret place which houses a pool, a bowling alley where turquoise is the exclusive color for balls and pins, a library, and a beach-front condo. Oh, and it also boasts a shopping mall.

Or it could just be a storage closet for board games that lack many of their respective pieces. You pick.

As you might have guessed from the photo, our room is an adventure in awesomeness. From the main 'Green Apple Giggle' color of the wall, to the hot pink stripe running around the entire room, to the black dots on either side of the stripe.

The sad part is, I had nothing to do with decorating this adventure in awesomeness. And I can call it that as my amazing sisters did everything. I don't have the creative genius to create an adventure in awesomeness.

I just photograph and commentate on it. Oh, and enjoy it. And sleep in it.

This is Ellie's side of the room, a museum of sorts which houses all her crafts and art projects. It's pretty cool. And if you're impressed by that, just take a look to the far left corner of the photo where it shows part of mine and Elisabeth's bookcase. It's a museum of sorts which houses the fire-engine red cast from the time I broke my leg as a child. Cool, no? Yeah, I knew you'd like it.

Hold up. It sure is a beautiful day outside. Can you see all that sunshine pouring into the room? I should stop blogging and get up and do something.

Ahhh, there. Blinds are closed and there is no longer a glare on my laptop screen. Perfect.

Here's a close-up view of Ellie's corner for those of you who were oddly not interested in my childhood memento. She made the collages, the 'E' hanging on the wall, the 'DREAM' sign, the paper birds. She's creative, no doubt. Me? I ain't.

Hmm, didn't Ellie say that this poster reminded her of me? I wonder if she meant the description or the canine with his tongue slurping out? Maybe it would be better not to ask.

Back to our side of the room, this is Elisabeth's sewing table. Where she sews.

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

This is Elisabeth's...trompe l'oiel...thing. Or rather it started out as a trompe l'oiel painting and then she turned it into a chalkboard where we can write messages and draw nifty pies, coffee cups, and cherries with our chalkboard markers. I did this one.

not.

This is Elisabeth's painting that she did several years ago of a French bistro. She's explained to me before how she uses shadows and colors to give it the illusion of being 2-D. I just nod and pretend like I understand every word.

This is the cute message that Elisabeth painted above one of the windows. It's funny in that we've had many a guest stay in our room, but none of them have ever looked at the word above the window and burst into a cheer. I have no idea why.

This is Elisabeth's...oh, no, wait, this is mine! It's a vintage camera model that I made myself. Well, it was actually created it by a manufacturer...and given to me by my grandmother at Christmas. But other than those minor details, I had everything to do with making this little piece of awesome-sauce.

I'm lovin' the word 'awesome' today, it seems.

Ellie created the flowers in the vase from colored tissue paper. I was impressed by her creativity.

Beyond that, I don't have to water them on a regular basis/never. Score.

Here's a close-up of the flowers. Just don't look at the girl reflected in the mirror.

I said not to look! That girl has on no make-up, is sporting fluffy lion's mane hair from a failed curling attempt, and to top it off with a cherry, is holding a blue bendy straw. For no other reason than it's fun to hold a blue bendy straw. I think it might actually be an undiscovered stress reliever.

Something I need right now as I lament the fact that I might never be able to design rooms well and will need to call my talented sisters over whenever I have a house that needs decorating. They can paint and add homey touches of handmade decor while I photograph their progress. And fiddle with my blue bendy straw.

Ahem.

I hope you enjoyed your adventure in awesomeness. ;)

See Swimmy. See Swimmy Swim.

2011-07-20T10:16:00.003-04:00

Remember the classic "Dick and Jane" stories for beginning readers? You know, the whole "See Dick run" fluff? Uh huh. That cover-your-yawn-with-one-hand stuff. Dry, brittle stories that would have put my five year old self to sleep. In my opinion, it would have been so much more clever to write a detailed back-story for an adult to read aloud about how Dick ran in the county fair race and later became a world famous athlete. Then when the beginning reader story was given to the child, their eyes would light up with a new sense of appreciation for Dick's speed as they read:

"See Dick. See Dick run."

Gives you chills, doesn't it? Me too. But instead of just providing one example, I came up with my own such story. It's sure to become a hit with the younger crowd. Read this aloud to the kiddos and wait for the accompanying beginning reader's story at the end:

Alexander has a tadpole whom he hath dubbed, 'Swimmy.' I honored his originality by christening every single tadpole in the backyard 'Swimmy' as well. It might cause some confusion among the amphibious siblings, but hey, there are hundreds of them. Creativity does have its limits after all.

Several such Swimmys have been placed in the care and keeping of yon Mason jars where their growth may be observed day by day.

The bright and happy decor of flower and rainbow stickers give these Swimmys the guts to follow their innermost hearts and to dream big. To believe that anything is possible.

But while tadpoles may swim under the rainbow in Mason jars inside...the outside world is less tame. Less peaceful. Less rainbow-y.

Join us as we travel to the wilds of the O. Family backyard and encounter sights never seen by the public. Until now. *adopts best 'Animal Kingdom' narrator voice*

Past the back steps, past the club house, past the swing set, there lies a lush garden. It is beyond this garden that we must venture...

...While the locals watch in fear.

Once filled with the sound of laughter and splashing feet, this abandoned kiddie pool now lies barren of all activity. Human activity, that is.

Smiling, colorful creatures surround the pool's perimeter, their care-free appearances sparking interest from the insect population nearby. But one must beware the siren's song, shy away from the sunny exterior. For everything is not what it seems and it is inside the pool where danger lurks just below the surface.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of Swimmys scout these waters, watching and waiting for some hapless insect to land in hopes of a drink from the forbidden pool. It is then that the Swimmys strike.

Perhaps metamorphosis is a grueling business, a daunting task. Whatever the reason, the Swimmys' hunger is always present, always lingering...and must be appeased. With the speed and accuracy of a great white, they dart as one through the water when something, anything happens to fall into their pool of doom.

Swimmys are not contained to the inside of the pool, oh no. For the rim has fallen in some places, giving the Swimmys an opportunity to search for victims. Notice one such Swimmy cruising along, his body casting an ominous shadow. When an insect makes the fatal mistake of drawing near, he shoots forward and drags it beneath the surface.

These are the stories of dismantled bumblebees, dismembered grasshoppers, and annihilated ants that insect mothers tell their children at night to make them behave. And make them behave it does.

Here several Swimmys discuss the discomfort of metamorphosis, seemingly unaware of anything besides their intriguing conversation. But it is all a charade, for their eyes are ever watchful, biding their time and waiting for a chance to feed.

*insert 'Jaws' soundtrack*

The circle of life often seems cruel and harsh, but these Swimmys must do what they can to survive, their fangs and fierce determination earning them the title of "Piranhas of the Kiddie Pool." Insects (as well as human children) should educate themselves to the ways of these creatures, these Swimmys. For ignorance can be deadly. And in the kiddie pool in the O. Family backyard, there are no second chances.

The End.

*cheerful smile* And here is the promised story for beginning readers. Let the kids read after you've finally convinced them that tadpoles are not the equivalent to piranhas.

See Swimmy. See Swimmy swim.

Wonderful, isn't it? For added effect, ask the child to read aloud doing their best James Earl Jones impression, followed by a diabolical chuckle. They'll be begging for more stories in no time.

I really should write my own curriculum.

Photo Challenge {Framed}

2011-07-18T12:09:00.003-04:00

I've been thinking.

Yes, yes, I have. I've been thinking a lot. Would you like to know what I've been thinking about? You would?

Sorry, my thoughts are private. Go find your own thoughts.

Ha. Just messing with you lovely people on that bit. Of course I haven't been thinking. ;) However, it has crossed my mind that it would be fun to host a photo challenge.

So, instead of merely contemplating hosting one, I am. Hosting a photo challenge, that is.

Try to stay with me here.

Mowgli at heart? Nope, the little dude had just been swimming.

Photos that involve frames, actual photo frames within a photo, are very cool to me. Just check my mental dictionary with the turquoise cover and you'll see a photo with a textured or old frame beside the word "cool."

I think John could have been a 1940's silver screen heartthrob. I really do.

Here's the deal. You take a picture that involves a frame. (See examples above) It may showcase a person, pet, or anything you like. Being creative is the key. Then post your entry to your blog or photo sharing account and link up. It'd be great if you'd include this li'l button here, but it's purely optional:

Sound simple enough? Cool. Because after the deadline has passed, finalists will be chosen and then a voting poll will be added to the sidebar for the people to vote on their favorite. I love a democracy.

Oh, how could I forget? The winner will receive this:

"Paris Fleur" Necklace
Because I think Paris is cool, too. Just check the mental dictionary.

Mmkay, Mr. Linky may be found below. He's thinking that he would be thrilled if you linked up. I'm thinking that I would, too. ;-)

Photo challenge ends August 8th, 2011.

Go Hug a Puppy

2011-07-12T15:53:00.002-04:00

Cats have a withering look that is universal to the species. The message that look conveys is the equivalent to our "Take a hike" or "Go jump in the lake." Meaning their respect for you has sunk low--very low.

It is "the look" that means:

Go hug a puppy.

But before we get to the chilling story, let me take a moment to introduce you to a certain little feline whose only expression in the above photo is one of confusion at the black lens stuck in his face.

Friends, this is our new kitten. His name is AJ Tiger John Wayne.

For short, we're calling him AJ Tiger John Wayne.

He was given to us by our very dear friends a mere two days ago and seems to be adjusting well.

I wish I could say the same for other furry members of the family. Call me something of an idealist or an optimist, but I thought that their meeting would be somewhat different. I did.

Like maybe Oliver would look into those sweet innocent eyes and be won forever.

Like maybe Oliver would observe this younger version of himself and be given the incentive to lose weight.

Like maybe Oliver would wrap his arm around the little fella and decide that he was the Simba to his Mufasa.

Reader, that was not how it played out. The actual meeting involved, well, hissing.

So much for dreams of Oliver playing surrogate daddy. Does anyone know where I can return the "Proud Parent" cat-sized T-shirt I bought? It's an X-Large.

Have you ever seen a cat sulk? I hadn't either until Sunday. With a hurt glance in our direction that said "I thought you were better than this," Oliver flicked his tail and retreated to a spot on the outside grill. Guilt ensued on our part and we dashed over to console him.

Ohh. I could literally feel the disgust. No, what's more I could see it with every look he gave us.

"Oliver? Oliver? Come on, Oliver, perk up."

Go hug a puppy.

"Oliver? Please don't be this way. We still love you."

Go hug a puppy.

"Oliver? Please purr or something? You're making me feel guilty."

Good. Go hug a puppy.

Well, it's taken about two days, but Oliver isn't shooting imaginary fiery darts at the kitten anymore. Either he's coming around or is really enjoying the leftover canned kitten food that comes in an assortment of flavors. It could be that. Possibly.

As for AJ Tiger John Wayne, he seems happy and hasn't been telling us to go hug any puppies. We're thinking we'll keep him around.

Endings

2011-07-09T07:27:00.002-04:00

Reality? What's that?

Please define.

The past day has been one of endings for our beach vacation this year. The last time I sink my toes in the sand. The last time I feel the power of the breaking waves lifting me up and carrying me on the boogie board to shore. The last time I stand on a sand dune to open my mouth and taste the salty air.

I know we'll be back next year, Lord willing, but still...it's hard to say goodbye to an amazing week.

A week filled with cute little brothers making their own memories.

Celebrating the 4th by dressing in red, white, and blue and heading to the parade and fireworks at the marina.

Collectively oohing and ahhing with the crowd as firework after dazzling firework exploded in the dark sky.

Visiting the shops downtown like all of the other sunburned tourists and loving every minute.

(Do these two look thrilled or what to be wearing their festive hats? Yeah, I think so, too.)

Laughing at the stunts pulled by cousins and siblings.

(Can you hear the ocean, Zander?)

Choot 'im, Elisabeth, choot 'im! ;)

Having a 'twin sister' photo shoot on the sand dunes as another day creeps to a close.

Elisabeth.

Me.

Elisabeth and me.

Rolling out of bed in the morning and hurrying to slather sunscreen on my shoulders and dash out to the front yard that was the ocean.

Building sandcastles in the grainy white sand. (This one was for you, Bailey, if the name written there isn't enough indication. ;) Thank you so much for the wonderful guest posts, sweet friend!)

Even as I write this post, we're experiencing more 'lasts' in the little beach house on this little Florida island. The last family Wii bowling tournament. The last time we laugh in the living room as we recap events of the day.

It makes me feel melancholy, really. When this post publishes in the morning, I'll have already spent my last night in the cozy room that Elisabeth and I share and will likely be on the road. Home. Which isn't a bad thing, but...well, hold on just a moment while I go hug a sandy beach towel and breathe in the scent of sunscreen.

Just kidding, y'all. Don't worry, I'll be okay. Because even I as feel sad...even as I try to grab and hold on to every fleeting moment...even as my mind subconciously records the 'lasts'...I am already anticipating one thing.

Lord willing, the 'firsts' of next year.

Do you have a favorite place to vacation during the summer?

Summer Tune-Up

2011-07-07T06:30:00.001-04:00

7:30 a.m. It's Sunday. I hit the floor groggy in my pink cupcake pajamas and head to the weather-beaten deck. It's warm out, like bread dough rising, warm enough and bright enough to keep my tired eyes squinting. Sunlight is all over green trees. It glints on the leftover morning dew coating the white railing. With a finger in it I write JESUS LIVES IN ME because common sense doesn't kick in until ten o'clock.

Welcome to my morning devotions. (My huge ESV study Bible is lying on the rickety bench behind me, just so you know.)

When I shut the last homeschool textbook, filed away the last science test and checked off the last box on my crammed school schedule, I realized there was something I wanted to do more than anything this summer: I wanted to connect with God.

You'd think a good Christian girl like me would have that all figured out and put in a box -- tied with a pink ribbon, even. I never could. For one thing, I couldn't get myself to sleep at night at a decent hour and so I couldn't get myself up at a decent hour, so the second my mum pulled the shades up with the morning reveille, I was already late for life. I had school to do. I had chores. I had places to go, speeches to make, friends to talk with, favors to fulfill. I didn't have time to pull out my leather Bible and just drink it all in, quietly. Once a week, if I was lucky, I would grit my teeth and get through a few verses and a muttered prayer before plunging back into life's battle.

Thank goodness for summers. Schedules relaxed, mother-issued reveille came a few hours later, and there was time to step into the warm late mornings with Bible in hand and prayer in heart. To me, the second I pack away two semesters of academia, that's my New Year. An icy, dead, sniffle-infested, blanket-requiring New Year doesn't inspire in me any thoughts of action -- plus I'm stuck in limbo between the school year, knocked out by the semester before and stumbling into the new one right out of the holidays. But summer -- summer when the birds sing outside your windows at five in the morning -- summer when the sunlight filters through white curtains -- summer when you can dream barefoot under the green apple trees -- that's when I get excited. That's when I'm free to live and grow.

My summer resolution was to get into the habit of daily devotions -- but seeing those words, "the habit of daily devotions," I realize that's not really what I want to do. I want to create a hunger in me for the Word. I want to carve out a place for starting the day out right, now, when the schedule's still soft. I want to learn how to study my Bible so I don't flip aimlessly through thin sheets of text, wondering how on earth this is spiritual.

More than that, I wanted to meet Him -- to meet the God I'd professed allegiance to, to learn the sound of His voice, the turn of His words, to think His thoughts, to do His doings. The thing was, I had left that desire so long in the dusty garage of "things to do when I have time" that it was completely out of shape when I pulled it out at the beginning of the summer. How did this work again?

A good place to start when you want to know God is to ask Him point blank: Now what do I do? So I asked Him. And this is what I learned.

1. It's about quality, not quantity. I was in the spiritual downy-dumps for the longest time because I'd never read through the entire Bible. I'd made it to Numbers, I think, and then the pattern was read a few verses, fall asleep, wake up bored, give up the Read Your Bible in a Year plans and wander away from Bible reading completely. But it dawned on me: The point of Bible reading wasn't to get a little lapel button that says, "I read the Bible in a year." It wasn't to give me a bragging point when the subject of Bible reading comes up in Sunday school. Reading the Bible isn't the point of reading the Bible.

Think back to your last Bible reading. If you can't even vaguely remember what you read about, you know exactly what my position was: I could read fast and furious, but I wasn't retaining anything. I was focused on quantity, not quality. That's shooting wide off the target.

I switched things to get my arrow in focus again. I would read huge chunks -- whole books, even -- in one sitting, but I would read them daily, over and over again. I would memorize passages that stuck out to me. I would pray them back to God. I would expound them in my mind, I would expound them to God, I would expound them to my best friend. It wasn't just a check on the list or a pat on the back anymore: it was truly meditating and delighting in the Word of God.

2. Memorization is easier than you think. Once I grew out of Awana, my memorization quotient dropped to zip, zilch, zero. I changed that this summer. But instead of forcing myself to memorize random passages as part of a daily routine, I would memorize as a part of my daily Bible reading. I would memorize meaty bites of Scripture that challenged me to rethink what I knew about God and my spiritual walk. And because it was taken straight out of my daily Bible reading, I memorize the full context and meaning of those words -- it wasn't just a verse or two taken out of context and tucked away meaningless in the back of my mind. (Handy Hint: Write down your memorization. Repeat them daily. If you're stuck wide awake at two in the morning, say them over and over until you fall asleep again.)

3. Drop everything to put it first. One of my hugest pet peeves is wearing pajamas all day. That's the worst part of being sick, in my humble opinion. But I've found that on days when I'm tired, busy or spiritually burnt out, even things like running a brush through my hair and going through the agonizing process of picking out an outfit will distract me from kneeling in God's presence first. That's why I was out on the back deck in my pink cupcake pajamas.

4. Prayer is the backbone of Bible-reading. The Word is not a collection of nice sayings to start the day out right. It's not dusty classic that you have to read for life. It's not a do-it-yourself guide when things get choppy. It's the direct link to God's voice, His thoughts, His will. We read it best when we read it in the covering of prayer, when we are actually sitting at Christ's feet and listening, like Mary, when we are worshipping and lifting our hearts to His. Much has been said about how reading the Bible will give you something to pray about -- it's just as true that talking to your Father will give you Someone to read about. I used to strictly draw a line between "Bible reading" and then "prayer" -- now I roll it all together, in a discussion: I listen when I'm reading; if I have a question, I ask, and then I listen; if He says something through His Word that is undeniably a God-thing, I praise Him for it -- aloud.

Connecting, you know. Connecting with Him. That's what I'm doing this summer. Join me, friends.

Bailey loves the Word...and words in general. Big words like pulchritudinous. Fun words like word-hoard. Made-up words like argufying. (Reading the dictionary is a first-rate hobby for her.) Her passion is to catch words of grace and truth, like fireflies in summer, and send them lighting up a dark world. Find her word crafting in her big house in the little woods.

Point and Shoot

2011-07-05T06:30:00.232-04:00

Two things need to be said.

1. I got a camera.

2. I am not a photographer.

Dreamy-eyed amateurs clutching a few hundred dollars in nickels and dimes, scrounged from babysitting and Saturday morning walks -- they head into Walmart looking for Canon Rebels and Nikons. Me? I was going to camp and had a big budget of thirty bucks. I walked in and immediately got lost in the technology department, and after strolling through aisles of game controllers and snazzy laptop covers, landed in the cheap-o digital camera lane.

Here I learn a very hard lesson about love at first sight: It was pink, cool and everything was wrong.

The screen was 1.5 inches. Its little turn-on jingle sounded like one of those plastic games thrown in with a Happy Meal. The time stamp (who wants a time stamp?) appeared on every photo. The lens was permanently hibernating, the zoom was pathetic, and the pictures -- they were like a bad paint job.

I named it Vivienne Rose, because I have a penchant for naming my technology. If it has a name, it has an independent personality and a pinch of original sin. Read: I am not responsible for the technological blunders it makes. (You could spell that i-r-r-e-s-p-o-n-s-i-b-i-l-i-t-y, but I prefer to think of it as tact.) It was a Vivicam, so that's where Vivienne came from; it was, as I said, a cool pink, and I always wanted to slap on the middle name Rose to something, be it camera, cat or child.

Name or no name, it was nothing but trouble from the fated second I laid eyes on it.

"I got a cool pink camera!" I hollered to my dad, who was watching the children zipping around on scooters and taking spills on the pavement. "What do you think?"

He turned it over in his hands. "How many photos does it hold?"

"One hundred and twenty, I think."

"Where does it say that?"

"Some...where."

"It needs an SD memory card, see?" He pointed: SD memory card required (not included).

So I dragged along my sister again, who was complaining about my misfortunes in life and why did she have to take center stage with them?

"One thing we're not going to do," she told me: "we're not checking out with the same cashier."

Deal. She has this paranoia of cashiers. But truthfully, it was embarrassing enough to be buying a cheap pink camera, much less trooping back in because Some Unmentionable Person didn't read the labelling. I didn't feel like becoming another Weird Customer Story. I was wearing pigtails, you know. I didn't need to the extra attention.

We parked (perfectly) and to our horror, our cashier was walking out of Walmart, matching in navy polos with another worker, apparently just let off work.

"I am not getting out of this car," said the sister. I was laughing. She was laughing. We were red-faced, out of breath and lost once we got back to the camera section. Of course, to be logical, the SD memory cards were nowhere near the cameras.

With memory card in hand and batteries popped into the camera, we tested it out. I cannot relive the pain in detail, but the mood was such that my sister was inclined to say, "Sunlight will make everything better."

I was thinking something along the lines of, "How did I let those thirty dollars go so easily?"

Note to self: Wipe the gullible off your face. That will eliminate any future thirty-dollar-rip-off transactions with alluring pink point-and-shoots.

To make matters worse, the company committed false advertising. Part of the reason I parted with thirty dollars instead of twenty or ten was because this cool pink camera could take video. A thirty dollar camera that snaps photos and videos? Almost too good to be true.

It was. Because after shooting two videos of my sister explaining her deep distrust of this plastic camera, we discovered that it shot only silent video.

Ha. We nearly died laughing. Because one, who actually falls for the notion that thirty dollars can buy a video-shootin' camera, and two, who on earth thinks it's a boon to society to shoot silent video? I got thirty seconds of my sisters spelling their names in sign language anyway.

All that to say, I got a camera and I'm not a photographer.

What do you say?

I'm Bailey. I'm no good at cracking bullwhips, talking slowly or writing bios. But to make up for all that, I write. I write about God, because His fingerprint is all over my heart; I write about love, because I'm learning how to do it; I write about life, because it is beautiful. Even if my camera-savviness isn't.

Visit my big house in the little woods.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Dessert Recipe

2011-07-01T09:16:00.000-04:00

The countdown has begun until "Family Vacation for a Week at the Beach." I am so excited, y'all. A special friend of mine sweetly agreed to guest post in my absence, so that's something to look forward to as well. (Bailey, you'll be so proud of me. I'm waiting to read the posts at the same time as everyone else. Congratulate me on my self-control. It's hard.) ;)

Movin' on--We had this treat about a week ago at Aunt Mindy's and... There are no words. I'm tongue-tied in its presence. This would make a perfect 4th of July dessert as it is very simple and yet so delicious. Want to give it a try?

Well then, here it is--quick, easy, and chocolatey. What more could a girl ask for?

Nothing. Right.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Dessert

Ingredients:
1 package of chocolate chip cookies
1 graham cracker pie crust (nine ounce)
1 tub of Cool Whip or whipped topping
1 cup of milk
Chopped pecans

Directions:
1) Dip enough cookies in milk to cover bottom of pie crust

2) Spread a layer of Cool Whip (or whipped topping) over layer of cookies

3) Repeat layers

4) Finish with Cool Whip layer on top and sprinkled with crumbled cookies and chopped pecans

5) Chill for several hours before serving if desired

6) If not desired, go ahead and grab a spoon and dig in

7) You have my permission

(You can make your own graham cracker crust and use a 9x13 dish. And chocolate chips taste nice sprinkled on top. 'Cause you can never have enough chocolate.)

Prayer Request

2011-06-27T10:18:00.000-04:00

A dear blogging friend of mine and her family have just lost a wife/mother.

My heart aches for the family at their time of loss. Please keep them in your prayers. <3

The Unclouded Day

There is coming a day when no heartaches shall come

No more clouds in the sky, no more tears to dim the eye

All is peace forever more on that happy golden shore,

What a day, glorious day that will be.

What a day that will be when my Jesus I shall see,

And I look upon His face, the One who saved me by His grace;

When He takes my by the hand and leads me through the Promised Land,

What a day, glorious day that will be!

There'll be no sorrow there, no more burdens to bear

No more sickness, no pain, no more parting over there,

And forever I will be with the One who died for me,

What a day, glorious day that will be.

What a day that will be when my Jesus I shall see,

And I look upon His face, the One who saved me by His grace;

When He takes me by the hand and leads me through the Promised Land,

What a day, glorious day, that will be!

Summer Nights

2011-06-25T10:32:00.001-04:00

The word 'summer' is awesome in itself.

The word 'night' is awesome in itself.

When you combine the two, you have double awesomeness. It's a simple matter of mathematics.

Summer nights on a 'mini vacation' with the cousins at their home in North Georgia are especially wonderful. Because they have a pool. And a trampoline. And a cousin who is willing to perform stunts on that trampoline for the sake of his photographer cousin.

Hi, Drew!

The glow of the porch lights beckoning us inside while moths flutter around.

Your blog author on the way inside, her skin tone resembling that of an Oompa Loompa thanks to the porch light.

This was not at night, but I needed to fit it in there somewhere. And look--yet another shot of my toes with the chipped pink toenail polish. Aren't you thrilled I decided to include this one?

This was in the evening after supper. And it was just as scrumptious, just as whipped creamy, just as chocolate chippy as it looks.

I hope you've already eaten breakfast this morning. If not, you better stop here.

My portion plus me with a fork equals one empty plate. It's a simple matter of mathematics.

Leftovers are lovely.

I love summer nights. How about you?

Of Preconceived Misconceptions

2011-06-21T13:44:00.001-04:00

Have you ever learned something about yourself that you didn't know before?

I don't mean discovering how you react when a goat steps on your bare foot. Not normal stuff like that. I mean learning that one of your favorite foods was something you thought you detested. Abhorred. Absolutely cringed at.

That sort of thing.

{found here}

I've heard folks talk about Spam all my life. I mean, c'mon, I live in the South. I don't know how it is in your neck of the woods, but fried Spam is going to be talked about here.

Spam. Even the name has a disgusting ring to it. I like to think of myself as a computer person after all. And spam in my computer is something I detest. Loathe. Spam gets in my computer and it's outta there, son.

Deceased.

Gone.

Vamoosed.

So why anyone would name a food that is absolutely beyond me. Mind you, I had no idea what it looked like, but whenever the stuff was mentioned, I would wrinkle my nose and make gagging noises.

{found here}

In short, I thought it sounded gross and backwoods, like a Southern food only reserved for country guys named Bubba or something. Yeah.

Moving on--For a year or two now, I have been eating and enjoying this delicious fried meat that is sometimes brought to church lunches. I never thought to ask what it was (says a lot about my discerning palate, doesn't it?). I just ate and enjoyed.

Well, I was raving about it yesterday to my brother.

Who promptly gave me a disgusted glance and said,

"You like THAT? That's SPAM!"

Oh.

Yes, y'all, one of my favorite foods is fried Spam. I live in the country, but I'm not a guy.

And neither is my name Bubba.

Just thought you should know. In case you had any preconceived misconceptions, too. ;)

(I know, I know. You poor readers have lately been subjected to posts about worms, chickens, and now fried Spam. Maybe we'll get back to more 'girly' stuff soon. And hey, today is the first day of summer...go grab a strawberry slush from Sonic and try to erase all of this from your memory.)

{Poultry in Motion}

2011-06-18T12:15:00.000-04:00

There are simply no words when the younger siblings hatch a plan to give one of the chickens a joy ride on the swingset.

In the baby swing, no less.

Let us hope and pray that with time and counseling she may recover from the trauma of this day.

And hey, that baby swing hasn't been used in several years. I'm glad to see someone getting use out of it.

Fishing Conversations

2011-06-14T11:15:00.001-04:00

Were you aware that Monday evening fishing trips spark interesting conversations?

No?

They do. Believe me, they do.

They spark conversation and perhaps a few monologues from those trying to bait their own hooks and the worms won't cooperate.

You might not have realized that you can complain and fuss all you want at the wiggling critters, but they won't respond, making it a very one-sided conversation.

I intensely dislike worms.

Me: *kicking off ancient flip flops that are about to fall off my feet anyway and walking on dock barefoot*

Wesley: *digging into tackle box* "Erin! Watch out for the hook!"

Me: "What hook? I don't see a hook."

Wesley: "It's there! Move! You're going to step on it!"

Me: *~~clumsily~~ gracefully stepping around bait and tackle* "I still don't see it. Where is it?"

Wesley: "In your foot."

Okay, so that last part didn't actually happen, but I have a feeling he wouldn't have been averse to that outcome--just so we could have had one of those 'I told you so' moments.

What is it that people love so much about 'I told you so' moments? It wasn't like I was being careless or anything. Huffs.

Me: "Um, Dad? Those bait stealers got my worm again."

Dad: *baiting a little sibling's hook* "Okay, well, grab a worm."

Me: *quickly devises clever method of action* "Oh! Could you half that worm with me?"

Dad: "Sure." *rips worm in half*

Me: *holds out hook*

Dad: *ignores hook and holds out dripping, wriggling half of worm* "Here. Take it and bait it." *drops worm in container when Erin doesn't respond and walks off on his merry way*

Me: *stares at worm* *worm stares back*

Okay, not sure about the worm staring back. I couldn't locate his eyes.

"John, if you hook me in the ear, I'm going to be upset."

"Wesley, if you hook me in the ear, I'm going to be upset."

"Ellie, if you hook me in the ear, I'm going to be upset."

"Zander, if you hook me in the ear, I'm going to be--aww, baby, sure I'll help you cast. Hand me your pole."

The baby of the family and all that. You understand.

Me: *summoning courage and reaching into container*

Worm: *evades fingers and burrows deeper into soil*

Me: "You aren't being very considerate. Come...here...I want to catch a fish."

Worm: *squirts white goop all over my arm*

Me: *emits sound that can be heard from the next county*

I intensely dislike worms.

Elisabeth: "You know how your foot feels when it falls asleep? Like, a bunch of pins poking into your foot? Well, that's what these minnows feel like nibbling at my feet."

Ellie: "They look cute, but they're probably saying, "Kill, kill, kill!"

Elisabeth: "Ouch! They're starting to hurt!"

Me: "Kick your feet and they'll swim away."

Elisabeth: *shocked expression* "No! That will scare them."

Me: *shrugs and proceeds to try and catch one in a cup*

Elisabeth: "Erin! Look, now they won't come back. You destroyed their trust!"

Me: "Um, and the fact that they were trying to eat your foot is...completely beside the point?"

Elisabeth: "Aw, look, the little minnows came back and are nibbling on my feet again. Aren't they cute?"

Me: "They're going to eat your feet off."

Elisabeth: "Aw, no, they won't. .........Hey, where did my left foot go?"

Me: "I told you so."

Whether or not that last part happened is up to your discretion. And whether or not I'm not above an 'I told you so' moment is up to your discretion as well.

Because I like leaving these sorts of things to my readers.

One of my big catches of the evening---a killer minnow in a plastic Mickey D cup. Guaranteed to feed a family of eight with enough left over for the cat. Someone get me the scales...we need to weigh this whopper!

Keepin' it real,
~Erin

In Which I Share Worthwhile Thoughts

2011-06-11T13:49:00.001-04:00

Today, I want to introduce you to the very picture of productiveness on a Saturday.

Yes, Oliver is awesome in the fact that he can spend many hours doing exactly what he's done every Saturday of his life.

Actually, what he's done every day of his life.

It involves sneaking into the house, finding a bed, snuggling down, and proceeding to resemble a corpse for the next three to six hours.

Comatose. Completely comatose. Didn't even flinch or budge when I shoved the webcam in his face a few minutes ago.

Although Oliver has not voiced any complaints about his lot in life, I have my own thoughts as to how to spice it up a bit. See those pink handled scissors in the background, left behind by a seamstress sister? That, and fluffy orange fur sitting right beside an imaginative blogger are not a good mix at all.

I have a feeling I could cut out some pretty snazzy heart patterns or triangles or circles. Give Ollie's look a little more pizazz if I wanted to.

It's a good thing I'm a mature adult. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. We'll see. Someone better move either the cat or the scissors before I forget.

Wow, after reviewing this post, I'm thinking I should write a book about Oliver--you know, like the bestselling stuff that some people write about their pets. If it received any negative reviews, it would only be due to the fact that others wish they had the guts to live out their dream like Ollie does every day of his life. ;)

Guess what? No, I really want you to guess! It's really cute and we're getting it in a few short weeks. It looks just like Oliver, only miniature. Care to guess? :)

Down at the {River}

2011-06-07T10:46:00.000-04:00

June 5th was a good day, reader. After a great church service, we came home and Elisabeth and I sat together and watched one of the cutest Disney Pixar movies ever, Monsters, Inc. You know the little one-eyed monster and the scene where he puts in his single contact?

So cute.

Yes, we're twenty and still love these movies. It's much better than some of this other stuff they have out there these days.

Anyhow, after lots of cake, the family decided to head down to the river. Where the sandbars made it possible to stand in the middle, and the lush greenery was all around, and the Spanish moss waved in the breeze.

It was beautiful.

I would have loved to share a photo of the birthday girls waving together from the middle of the river, but Elisabeth and the rest of the siblings were oblivious when Mama took this shot. *sighs*

Ignore the fact that you're out there having fun and enjoying the view. You're supposed to smile when you have a camera aimed in your direction so you'll have a photo to document this time forever. Apparently, they didn't get the memo.

Reader, you should have been there. If only to hear me and Elisabeth belt out an interesting rendition of 'The River' by Garth Brooks.

Because you can't stand in the middle of a river and not sing 'The River.' Common knowledge.

The blur that is Erin coming toward you to retrieve the camera and take a few photos.

Ah, a tree covered in nature's streamers, er, Spanish moss. It is quite pretty, no?

So the decision to wade in the river eventually turned into the decision to swim in the river. And the photographer didn't want to miss out on the fun, so she hurried to stick her camera back in the Tahoe and get back out there.

Y'all, I just wish you could have been there to see just how beautiful it was. We were laughing, splashing, and getting tackled in that warm water as the light faded and a crescent moon came out.

I want to rewind time and go back. Go back, back, back.

Thankfully, time heals all wounds. That, and...

...Left-over birthday cake in the freezer.

A cake that has icecream sandwiched in the middle and CoolWhip icing. Cutting a piece, sticking it on a plate, grabbing a fork and digging in can be a great help in curing the days-after-a-great-birthday blues.

A great help.

Thank y'all so much for the sweet birthday wishes! Elisabeth and I appreciated them so much and would share a piece of cake with you if we could. :)

raises sparkly turquoise megaphone

2011-06-04T20:34:00.000-04:00

Hi, my name is Erin and tomorrow is my birthday.

I love birthdays.

I love birthdays as much as I love cake. Maybe more.

This is my twin. Tomorrow is her birthday, too. (I won't insult you by pointing her out in the photo below. It's obvious which one she is as she is sitting right beside me).

(This was made at least several years ago. We've changed some since.)

She loves birthdays. She loves birthdays as much as she loves cake. (Okay, not sure on that point. I'll have to ask her).

This girl and I have been through a lot together in the years we've known each other. Which has been awhile. As in, years and years and years with another year thrown in for good measure. We're sisters and best friends, as close as teeth and gums.

Cough. Yeah, great imagery there, Erin.

In short, we're pretty tight.

The two of us back when we were...uh, five? Ah, good times.

How old will we be tomorrow, you ask? Well, in ten years we'll be thirty. Oh, my peas.

Hold my hand, blog reader.

Did you just hear that? Thirty. *sobs into hands* I don't want to grow up.

And yet, I still love birthdays. It's that one day of the year where I generally don't do anything out of the ordinary, but still just bask in the glorious knowledge that today is a special day. I like the whole shabang. The cake, the smiles, the birthday wishes. Yeah, I'm downright pathetic with how much I love birthday wishes. If I didn't have a blog, I'd probably pass out fliers and leaflets to all of you with the date of June 5th stamped on it and "Remember the date!" written down in a cute font. Maybe Curlz MT.

I really don't know where the direction of this post is supposed to head now that I've shared the happy news. Maybe I should end and go dream about tomorrow. We'll have plenty of birthday and hopefully plenty of cake.

It should be a good day. ;)

a taste for blackberries.

2011-05-31T13:16:00.000-04:00

There is something about blackberries that is so completely all-American.

You have the red and ripening blackberries which have yet to turn colors.

You have the mature blackberries which, in all honesty, are more of a bluish purple.

And finally, you have the white highlights added to the berries by the sunlight.

Red, white, and blue.

It's fun to watch children bending over blackberry bushes, picking the ripe berries, the juice staining their hands a purplish hue. There's a great chance of being snagged by thorns, but those scratches on their little arms merely adds to the feeling of victory as they plop a few in their pails and more in their mouths.

When I see blackberries, I think of America. And it's difficult to think of America without remembering those that gave their all so that we might be free.

I know that yesterday was Memorial Day and I love celebrating it as much as anyone. But we should also remember those that have made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom every day of the year. Those that made it possible for children to pick as many handfuls of blackberries as they want without fear or worry.

So the next time you see or eat a blackberry...

Remember.

And...action!

2011-05-25T12:30:00.000-04:00

Ever dreamed of watching a fake movie trailer that was made just for fun?

Yeah, me too.

Cough. Anyway, now is your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do just that! For your viewing comes our production made on a non-existent budget and a borrowed point-and-shoot camera.

So enjoy. Clap at the end. Maybe give a standing ovation? ::crickets:: Okay, so that might be stretching it.

Legend of Prisonero Isle Trailer from Erin O. on Vimeo.

Disclosure: Yes, this movie was made using real swords. No, you don't have something in your ear and you did hear me correctly. My siblings in this film did indeed use real swords. Genuine, authentic, foam swords. You might want to keep that fact under your hat. ;-)

What do you do for entertainment on summer break?

The Good, the Bad, and the Fluffy

2011-05-23T11:02:00.000-04:00

The Good:

After a busy day of constant activity, the little brother has finally fallen into an exhausted sleep.

The Bad:

The big orange fluffy thing draped on the other side of the couch really isn't supposed to be inside the house.

And the Fluffy:

I...think that this one is pretty self-explanatory.

Sleep well, guys.

Yep, I'm back. It was a good break, but I'm glad to be back in the blogosphere. :) More posts coming later this week. Ciao for now!

thwump.

2011-05-09T11:44:00.000-04:00

What was that sound? Oh, simply me collapsing on the floor in exhaustion at the thought of all I need to get done.

Just step over me and come on in.

'Tis been a busy few weeks as far as photo sessions and projects go and it promises to only get busier. That said, blog posts are going to fall to the wayside for a week or two. *picks self up long enough to wave a forlorn good-bye*

My bedroom is a colossal mess and I have a dentist appointment in about an hour and twenty minutes. I better get going. In parting, I'll leave you with this scene from one of my favorite movies. If you're lacking in the get-up-and-go department this morning (like me), watching this will give you some pep. Promise.

Portrait Contest Entries

2011-05-05T11:20:00.000-04:00

Below are my entries for the portrait photo contest that Polka Dot is hosting. Please be sure to check it out as there are some really amazing prizes offered!

This is my youngest sister, Ellie.

This is my second to youngest brother, John.

Ellie, John, these are my blog readers. *round of handshakes commence* Sure glad to know you.

And now that the formalities are over, I'm off to a (Lord willing) productive day. My night was quite productive, let me tell you. I dreamed I was saving the world's little creatures. Mice that were being swept away by a river of water that gushed from the garden hose, bass fish that had somehow ended up in the chicken coop and were being pecked to death--I saved them all.

Now that's what I call productive.

Either that or I just have very odd dreams. Let's go with the former, shall we?

Morning of the Monkeys

2011-05-03T12:12:00.001-04:00

I have tragically spent my morning in the company of monkeys.

You've seen the board games, right? The ones whose taglines read "The game that's as fun as a barrel of monkeys!" (or something like that) and show photos on the box of little kids shrieking with laughter at the enormity of fun found there.

Don't believe them.

I had already played three rounds of one monkey jumpin' game this morning. Coincidentally, it was named, "Jumpin' Monkeys." The youngest little brother only wanted to play one game and I initially agreed to that.

But then he won the first round. And smiled happily at his triumph. Five years old and he had successfully landed four monkeys in the plastic tree while his almost twenty year old sister only landed one. Poor thing.

Now, I have a certain competitive streak and so insisted to another round. He beat me again. I asked for it by demanding another round. He beat me a third time. I finally decided enough was enough and so applauded his accomplishment and went back to doing my own thing, very tired of the sight of monkeys.

Hoh, hoh, hoh. You haven't seen nothin' yet, sister.

The other little brother was taking a break from school and learned that I had played a few games with other little brother. He asked if I would play a game with him. The little brother who had whooped me each time heard the commotion, thought this was a splendid idea, and chimed in.

I dug my heels in and refused. They begged. They pleaded.

I caved.

It turned out to be another monkey game. Help.

Five little monkeys jumpin' on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head! Mama called the doctor and the doctor said, "No more monkeys jumpin' on the bed!"

Amen to good 'ole Doc. Let's end this game right here and now.

I have the attention span of a gnat when it comes to games like these. And this is even moreso when the game board is missing and someone brightly suggests to use the Sorry! board that is miles long and drags the game far into the morning. Oh wait, that was my idea. Brilliance, Erin, sheer brilliance.

I was darkly observing the happy monkeys grooving on the bed, oblivious to my torment. I contemplated making my escape when youngest brother handed me the spinner. "Ladies go first," he said.

Sweet jumpin' monkeys, his mama raised him right! I stayed.

And regretted it. For the game dragged on. And on. Finally, all of the monkeys toppled over and I desperately said, "Great. The two of you tie for first and I lost. We're done!"

They must have been getting tired, too, for the monkeys suddenly gained rocket boots and shot around the board to a satisfying conclusion. Praise be.

Afterward, I settled in to multi-task by writing this blog post and helping a little brother with schoolwork. School and blogging. Can't be much chance of seeing monkeys there. Ha. The little brother suddenly opened his phonics book. "Hey, Erin, look at this picture." I turned with a smile that immediately disappeared.

It was of a monkey. I think I'm being followed. ;)

{Between You and Me}

2011-04-27T11:30:00.003-04:00

There are certain little jumbled thoughts o' mine, certain admissions, if you will, that just can't find their way into an entire post by themselves and so will nestle here for you to read.

Take a second glance at the title, though.

This is just between you and me. I don't expect these admissions to find their way to the World Wide Web, got it? ;)

~I should not...

...Begin a suspenseful mystery late at night. Really, I shouldn't. Particularly one that involves trading markets and international problems. Whoosh! <--Oh, that sound was just all of that flying straight over my head. Cramming my mind with such information leaves me awake half the night, my little brain trying to puzzle it all out.

~My siblings have an interesting effect on my thought life

It's true. I was watching a little boy the other day. He had brown hair and was wearing a green striped shirt. I was thinking to myself, "Wow, he looks just like someone I know...only a younger version." It finally occurred to me that he resembled Steve from the old Blue's Clues. Oh, for the love of little siblings.

To be perfectly honest, he did look just like a li'l Steve. Someone give me a pawprint here. I deserve it.

~I take a tremendous guilt trip every time-

-I accidentally hit a butterfly. You know you've seen such horror happen before, too. You're driving along without a care in the world when, in feature length movie slow motion, a butterfly flutters in your path. Perhaps you've cried out, "Nooo!" and it echoed off the walls of your vehicle. But there's nothing you can do.

And just like that, in that fatal moment, its little life is snuffed out. For what was the hard work and time that it took to make it from the egg to caterpillar to cocoon to the moment when it lifted those beautiful wings and could finally fly?

I've got to stop right there. This is hurting my butterfly lovin' heart.

~Take me out to the ball game!

I have always wanted to photograph...a baseball. Not a brand new one fresh from the store, but an old, used baseball that had seen its share of being coated in rosin. It might sound odd, but believe me, this dream of photographing a baseball is right up there with my addiction to photographing newsboy caps if you can believe that's possible.

You didn't know I had an addiction to photographing newsboy caps? I do.

Enter problem: we have one baseball in our home. One. And every time I decided to give it a free photo session, it disappeared, perhaps due to shyness, perhaps due to little brothers who play with it. However, yesterday was a red letter day. Yesterday was the day I found it just lying on my bedroom floor.

Maybe it had finally overcome its fear of the camera. Whatever the reason, I scooped it up along with a baseball glove and took about 36 photos of this sole baseball. 36. Possibly too many photos of a baseball? Right. As if.

In any case, I fulfilled a lifelong dream and might do it again soon. Providing my subject doesn't chicken out again.

Maybe I should just marry a baseball player. At least there would be plenty of baseballs to go around, right?

Totally kidding.

~I am quite averse to change. Example?

Clear granola bar wrappers. I can't stand them. What happened to the solid wrappers and whose crummy idea was it to change? I DON'T care that granola bars in the new wrapper are generally moister than they were when in the old. It doesn't matter.

What does matter is the fact that the granola bar industry decided to switch it up on me and make me anxious every time I stick my hand into the box and pull out a clear wrapper. It's disturbing.

Hmmm, this might be more than a mere aversion to change. This could be a phobia to it. Anyone got a name for that?

~I spend inordinate amounts of time photographing the unusual

Isn't this just the coolest thing? It's a cabinet that belongs to my grandmother on Dad's side and it houses a mirror...so it appears as though I'm outside looking in. Neat-o.

I really don't know how long I stood there trying to get these shots. It was awhile.

~Turtles are impossibly impolite

This is Joe. Say hi, Joe. I really don't know much of Joe's character as we only met briefly during a visit to Okefenokee Swamp last year. However, I needed a photo of a turtle to illustrate my point.

Joe is a turtle.

Hence your introduction to Joe.

My decision that most turtles are rude happened about two weeks ago. I was driving along when I suddenly stopped in the middle of the road to pick up and help a turtle that was slowly trudging across. I was striding with purpose and the feeling that I was doing a wonderful thing when it took one look at my face and shot off like a bottle-rocket. But not before giving me a turtle-y version of the stink eye.

Maybe he was having a bad day.
Maybe he was an old geezer who didn't welcome help from anyone.
Maybe my approach gave him that extra-incentive to fulfill his lifelong dream of pulling a Ninja Turtle stunt.
Maybe he just didn't want the chore of having to pull out the ole' Shell Sanitizer had my human hands touched him.

However, I was personally affronted and have since changed my belief that turtles are cute li'l misunderstood creatures.

My apologies, Joe.

And for the record, my hands were clean.

As Promised

2011-04-25T12:22:00.001-04:00

First up, before you take another step, I would like all of you to check out Vicki's fun movie quote quiz here (there's even a prize involved). Vicki, I meant to share this in the last post like I said, but it slipped my mind--forgive me? ;)

Okay, let's get this show on the road revealing the never before released photos of the blog author and her sisters wearing their springtime dresses. We'll call it a bloggity-blog fashion runway.

Or you may simply call it photos of the blog author and her sisters wearing their springtime dresses. It's completely up to you.

On the far right, we have Elisabeth in her yellow and white number that caused the sunshine to smile at its prettiness. (That last part was tacked on for effect there. I actually don't know if the sunshine smiled or not. Or if such a thing is even possible).

In the middle, we have Miss Ellie in a lovely green/brown/blue dress that her sisters applauded as one of the prettiest they had ever seen.

And on the far left, we have the blog author. I really don't know what to say about her.

The twin sisters then decided to have a photo made of the two of them together. *glances up* Ahem, I said sisters.

Oh well, just roll with it. Here is a photo of the twin sisters...and their little brother. Who they happen to love to pieces and so did not mind the intrusion.

And here they are again. Oops, Elisabeth is looking away. Focus, sister, this is for a blog post and thousands upon thousands of readers (cough) will notice that you ignored the camera lens to glance at something far less important than said blog post. Tsk.

Oh, that's better. Well, that is all, friends. I hope you enjoyed this bloggity-blog fashion runway.

Or the photos of the blog author and her sisters wearing their springtime dresses if that's what you called it. Completely up to you. ;)

Hope that you all had a very blessed Easter Sunday!

Memory Lane

2011-04-20T10:13:00.000-04:00

This post is for those of you who ever experienced a certain, wonderful little thing called childhood.

This is for those who didn't know what 'innocent' meant. You just were.

This is for those who ever dressed themselves in a mismatched assortment of clothing (aka Froggy Facts t-shirt, green swim trunks, and rubber cowboy boots) and believed it to be a job well done.

This is for those who smiled unabashedly for the camera without asking to see the photo afterwards and perhaps moan about some flaw in their features. You simply didn't worry or care about such things.

This is for those who ever wore their nicest polka dot flip flops on a walk to the pond and regretted it for the dirt.

Whoops. How did that get in there?

This is for those whose biggest worry in life was something as small as outrunning Brother in a race down rows of corn.

This is for those whose imaginative spark transported them to another place altogether. When something as simple as an irrigation gun became an Army tank in a foreign battlefield defending the United States.

This is for those who could suddenly drive, fly, shoot guns, or have insanely amazing super powers...perhaps all in the same twenty minutes.

"Raise the guns..."

"TIGHTEN THE...uh, whatever it is that you...tighten...on a tank."

"Look up, men!"

This is for those who became so swept up in their game that everyday happenings (such as a jet flying past) only added to the excitement.

"Fire!"

"Did we get 'im?"

This is for those who stood a foot taller during these sessions of pretend, because in those moments, you weren't playing Superman or a war hero. You became them.

(This shot reminds me of the soldiers raising the flag at Iwo Jima for some reason).

This is for those who could pause the game and make silly faces for the camera, not caring who was watching.

This is for those who completed a game of pretend with a heady sense of accomplishment at a job well done.

This is for those who ever wonder why they were in such a hurry to grow up and leave all of that behind. And this is for those who sometimes--just sometimes--wish they could go back for a brief while and relive every wonderful, magical, imaginative second.

This is for you.

versatile.

2011-04-18T11:07:00.000-04:00

Have you ever visited our garden? No? Well, I decided that you should on Saturday evening, so I headed out with camera in tow. You'll thank me, I'm sure.

Before I made it there, however, I noticed my furry li'l friend, Oliver, who absolutely adores the ground I walk on and hurries to me with glee at the very sound of my melodious voice. Watch this-

"Oliver!"

"Ollie?"

"Olliieeeee?!"

If I close my eyes, I can't see her. Therefore she can't see me...

Odd logic, but I wouldn't be a bit surprised if those were the thoughts running through his mind. Not much but fluff between those ears--oh, but you did not hear that from me.

I have the sneaking suspicion sometimes that he fancies himself Mufasa. Don't quote me on that either though, for I have no proof as of yet.

The rope swing in the side yard and the tractor tires the younger siblings have been using to jump off--I might have used it, too. And see that nice li'l spot behind the tires where the shadow is--right, right over there? I used that spot the other evening to sit with my notebook and scribble novel ideas in the fading light.

It was awesome.

Oh, by the way, keep thoughts of tractor tires locked away in your sub-cranium for now. You'll be meeting them again shortly.

Do you hear that? The strains of Handel Messiah's Hallelujah Chorus that began to play as we scrolled down to this photo? So fitting, too. At moments like these, when the setting sun is casting deep shadows on the picket fence and arbor, it's easy to imagine stepping through the portal and finding yourself in another world.

Or you might find yourself in our front yard with a plowed up field directly in front of you. It just depends.

Oh, well, look who's here! Isn't this the guy that wouldn't give me the time of day a few minutes ago? I thought it was. There's no mistaking that furry form.

Hey, Ollie, you want to go inside, dontcha? Dontcha? Hmmm?

Well, forget it. I'm not going in yet. You'll survive, I'm sure. Go amuse yourself by daydreaming about 'The Lion King' or something.

I love these two.

Look! Up there! So graceful, so majestic, quite resembling a ballerina of the sky.

Around here, we call it a cowbird.

And now we visit (drum roll) the...Tractor Tire Garden! For the past few years, Dad and Wesley have put quite a bit of work into this, so I expect to hear the appreciative oohs and ahhs from the readers.

But ignore the tires for a moment, however novel they may be. See my shadow waving to you? Well, don't be rude--say hi. ;)

To be perfectly honest here, you and I are about seeing this season's crop for the first time together. The garden really isn't my jurisdiction, so I don't head out there much.

Maybe it's due to the fact that I don't have a green thumb on either appendage at the end of my arms.

I do have a turquoise thumb, though. It's really pretty.

However, it's yet to be uncovered what you can grow with one. Maybe you know?

Quite awesome, no? I think I, I mean, they should be featured in Better Homes and Gardens magazine, I really do.

As I was stepping over tires, Dad says, "Hey, Erin, have you seen our strawberries?"

My response: "We have strawberries?!"

I really should get out more.

Aw, they're just babies, ripening and maturing until they're all grown up and ready for eating.

While most of the garden is housed in tractor tires, there are exceptions. Here is one example of our motto, "No tire is too small to roll in and help." Catchy, ain't it?

Just pause and think for a moment of the many miles this tire has traveled, helping to plow rivers of chocolate colored dirt over and over again. Even in retirement, it is still doing the best it can to make the world a better place.

Wow. You just give so much of yourself. A true inspiration. May we all strive to learn to be as versatile and self-sacrificing as a tractor tire.

Did I mention that I love these two?

As I made my way to the back door, a certain feline friend decided to join me yet again. I lowered my camera for a few more shots and--

--His dreams of being Mufasa came to fore and he raised his proud mane as though surveying his pride.

Oliver, I regret to inform you that the blade of grass in your face kind of kills the look. Sorry.

For the Love of Weekends

2011-04-15T09:59:00.002-04:00

I love the weekend plus it's almost here equals cheers!

This was last weekend when we went on a fishing trip to the river:

Edited to add: Although it doesn't show, there was a sturdy three part railing I was hanging onto that was there just for people who wanted to look over at the dam. Thought I should probably clarify! :)

At the dam in my cute leopard print rain boots--an absolute must have on any fishing trip. Oh, what about poles, hooks, bait, etcetera, etcetera? Sure, sure, those are needed, too, but the men on the trip can deal with that minor aspect of fishing.

We girls have the harder job of deciding what to wear for the occasion. Make note that cute rain boots are imperative during this crucial decision making process. Absolutely imperative.

I would like to point out that, however cool, this photo scares me half to death. One of my biggest nightmares is of dropping my camera in the water--and had my neck given in to the weight of the camera strap and snapped or something, my Canon EOS 50D would have gone plunging to a dreadful death.

Come to think of it though, had this happened in said way, I probably wouldn't have been aware of it. *waves hand* Trivial detail.

This weekend involves cousins coming for a visit and a family reunion. What will your weekend be comprised of?

Thanks for the comments on my previous post, y'all. I shall be uploading photos soon of the sistas and I with our dresses. There's also an upcoming post involving our fishing expedition in more detail. I suggest skipping that one if photos of worms cause you to cringe. ;-)

The Quest has Ended

2011-04-11T08:39:00.001-04:00

You'll either have two reactions to this post:

One, you'll be shocked as you remember a certain post that recently told of my ~~obsession~~ hope of finding a yellow springtime dress.

Or two, you could care less as that bit of info might have exited the back door of your mind five seconds after you clicked off and went your merry way. I hold neither reaction against you.

Anyway, our tale begins with Erin's loving grandmother finding her a beautiful spring dress.

It was a happy dress.

It was a sunshine-y dress.

It was a yellow dress.

"Ahhh! It's perfect!"

For the record, I am not bald in real-life and neither was the dress that short. It is fairly difficult for an artistic person to draw hair and objects in proportion. For an un-artistic person, it is virtually impossible.

Just thought you would like to know.

To continue our story--Erin was in a state of bliss. Her yellow dress had been found. Since a shopping trip had already been planned with her grandmother and sisters, however, she did go along, on the off chance she would spot another yellow dress whose style she possibly liked better.

At the mall, her squealing sisters made a run on the beautiful dresses, while our torn heroine looked on.

~~Okay, maybe she browsed the racks a little. With a bit of 'pretty dress' sparkle dust in her eyes.~~

Ahem. Yes, she merely looked on. And waited on her exuberant sisters to find the springtime dresses of their dreams.

Note: Said sisters are neither bald or losing their hair either. Please see previous statement above.

Erin was scuffing her feet when-- A glimmer of something--something pretty--caught her eye.

What... ...Could...it...be?

Our heroine was lost in a dreamy daze as she floated on air toward the rack where--

All thoughts of a yellow dress were forgotten in lieu of a pink and white dress that squealed her name.

Erin was in love.

The yellow dress was later exchanged and Erin hopes in her heart that it found a good home.

And Erin's twin did happen to find a yellow dress just as she set out to do, so we may all rejoice in her lack of fickleness.

The End

Goodness, that was some fine artwork, wasn't it? I think I'll give up my role as blogger and become a professional stick-figure illustrator.

(Or not).

{7} Random Facts

2011-04-08T07:57:00.003-04:00

My good friend, Autumn, awarded me the "Stylish Blogger Award" in which I get to share 7 random facts about myself. Here we go!

1. When I was ten, my twin sister accidentally flipped the golf cart on a hill and she and my brother fell on top of my left leg and broke it near the ankle. Oops. I still have the cast with all of its permanent marker signatures. There's one from former president George W. Bush and another from my cat. Cough. My twin went a little wild with the marker.

2. Golf is one of my favorite sports to watch. And it just so happens that the Masters Golf Tournament began just yesterday and will continue through the weekend. *happy grin*

3. I collect quotes. As in, a large assortment of funny, thoughtful, or random quotes I have located in a Microsoft Word document that is coincidentally entitled...'Assorted Quotes.' Yeah, I'm just creative like that. Here are two such quotes that I love:

{If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.}

-Winnie the Pooh

“You are you. Now, isn’t that pleasant?” 

~Dr. Suess

4. I...can talk in a voice that may pretty much be described as a mixture of Elmo the Furry Red Monster and Curious George. It's a talent and one that can be used to make random little kids that I'm photographing to either laugh or glance at their mom with a look that says, "Hey, let's get out of here. You've obviously hired a photographer who has issues. Serious issues."

The same little kids then hand me a card with the number of a local psychiatrist written on it.

Just kidding about that last part, y'all. Maybe.

5. Speaking of babies...oh, who was speaking of babies? Well, no one--but now that you mention it...I love babies. I know, I should hope that most of us do, but it was a random thought that came to me. I especially love newborns and was fortunate enough to photograph this sweet little fella the other day:

If you don't just fall in love with this little guy like I did, I'm setting up an appointment for you at the heart specialist, pronto.

{photo found here}

6. Texting scares me. Seriously, y'all. My adrenaline starts giving me a hard time and my pulse quickens. I like thinking through what I'm going to say to people to avoid misunderstandings or mistakes. Texting...well, texting really doesn't allow for this. It requires instant response in most cases--and I don't handle that very well.

Perhaps I should have been born in a different century.

7. I'm a natural-born mistake maker and klutz rolled into one blushing package. For example, at a 4-H State Congress awards banquet two years ago, I accidentally followed the wrong person and ended up sitting up at the head table. In the middle. With a bunch of college deans and attorneys.

That's right, let's look at the silver lining here, people. A natural-born klutz eating sushi--with chopsticks--at a head table in the middle of a bunch of important people. Oh well, they were very nice. The important people, mind you, not the chopsticks.

I actually had a creeping feeling that the chopsticks didn't like me.

And there you have it. Just about as random as it probably gets. I'm no good at tagging people and am probably ruining the whole fun of this tag, but if you read and want to try your hand at it...consider yourself tagged by moi. :)

Thanks, Autumn!

Reflections Through the Storm

2011-04-06T10:34:00.000-04:00

{we heart it}

It's about a quarter past three in the morning and I can't sleep.

White light is continually flickering through the windows reminding me of being in the dark living room on a Friday night and watching a black/white movie.

The rain is driving against the house, beating it with a violent force.

Thunder is cracking as well, and I wonder; is there a better, more descriptive adjective to describe the sound that thunder makes?

Microsoft Word assures me that there is not (at least not one that it's willing to give so late at night, poor sleepy program that it is), so the thunder is indeed cracking. Sounds like the firing of a rifle, really.

Lightning is still flashing through all four windows and the room completely lights up every few minutes. I would dearly love to go back to sleep and continue my dream which I vaguely remember being about a beautiful purple dress (one that was probably on sale, too), but I can't quite yet with the storm still raging.

It was much worse about ten minutes ago and I debated deserting my bedroom entirely for the safe comfort of the living room--a mind at three o'clock in the morning can create quite vivid imaginations of tornadoes suddenly ripping through, you understand--when I walked into the study and found Dad on the computer checking the weather doplar.

We were in the line of red, right in the thick of it.

But seeing Dad, knowing he was up and awake and making sure of things made it all right. I'm back in the bedroom and trying to process a coherent thought. Because while it's a real comfort to know that Dad is watching out through the night storm, it's moreso to realize that God is watching out, too.

"What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee." Psalms 56:3

The storm is over now.

While I've sat here with this blog post, it has gradually moved on and not even a flicker of lightning is coming through the windows anymore. Leftover raindrops are glowing on the window screen, lit by the security light shining outside.

I'm going back to sleep now. Night's lesson?

Keep remembering that God is in control through the night storms and through life storms. Good night, y'all.

Note: I wrote this the other night during a series a violent storms that came through South Georgia. We did wake up to a pretty morning, much like the photo above that I made several years ago.

Of Travels, Tales, and Smolders

2011-04-04T13:34:00.000-04:00

Note: Autumn, I haven't forgotten my award and I'm going to post about it really soon! :)

This past weekend, the family and I headed up to North Carolina where Dad had a preaching appointment. It was late when we left. As in really late for an eight hour ride. As in 10:00 at night late. Yeah.

See, we had our homeschool group's annual talent show this past Friday night (which was an absolute blast), but it wasn't over until about 9:30ish...hence the late departure.

I think I'll title this one "Heading out on a trip to North Carolina in the cramped Tahoe at 10:00 at night after everyone is hyper from the desserts served at the talent show and won't sit still for a photo to document the ride."

Yeah, that fits. I like titles that lack excess words, don't you?

You'd think all of the excitement from the day would finally drain away and all younger passengers would fall asleep five minutes into the drive, right? Not so. And I was seated beside Mr. Chatty (aka 4 yr. old Zander). Our conversation for about forty-five minutes of the trip went something like this:

"Erin, someday I'd like to go see where John Wayne is buried."

"Really?"

"Erin, where are we? Oh. Jacksonville. I like Jacksonville. Do you like Jacksonville, too? I like Jacksonville."

"Uh huh."

"Erin, don't we have three teams in Georgia that I like? Like Georgia Tech, Georgia Bulldogs, and the Packers."

"Yep. Wait. What? The Packers are in Wisconsin."

"Yeah, but I like the Packers."

Oh well, you gotta love his cuteness. The ride continued with passengers dozing every once in awhile, waking up to talk for about an hour, and then falling back asleep to rejuvenate for another round.

As for me, I pretty much sat there thinking my own thoughts. Thoughts which are always deep and theological, especially at 2:00 in the morning.

A prime example would be my thought of how nice it would be to know how to yodel like the guy on the radio. Deep.

After awhile, I finally decided to remove the hard item that had been beneath me the entire ride. It looked to be either a piece of white chalk or a fossilized marshmallow.

I chose to believe it was a piece of white chalk.

When we finally arrived at the hotel, I went to sleep and didn't touch my camera again until Sunday afternoon.

Then I was at it full force photographing the beautiful North Carolina scenery. To Miss Emily:

I really like your state. :)

The blossoms kind of resemble hearts against the sky, yes?

Wesley was in a pleasant mood and agreed to being photographed. True, siblings may be found in any state, but willing siblings are a rarity.

And willing siblings who suddenly say "Here comes the smolder" and make an expression in said way are even rarer. In fact, they are almost unheard of.

(Note: If you haven't seen 'Tangled', I suggest that you do, if only for the sole purpose of understanding what the above means.)

After a few shots, he had the 'smolder' down to perfection. Bravo.

"Smile, sad clown, give yourself a hug!" ...That's better.

Elisabeth.

Zander-man and Ellie.

A tree that excited interest as it was, well, a North Carolina tree. Ah, bless thy roots.

What can I say? I love my foliage.

Darn, he lost his smolder. And I liked it, too. Oh well, smiles are always a good thing.

Just when you're about to depart from NC, it's always a good idea to use the sun to your advantage and photograph the shadows of your siblings' hands against concrete. Cool.

Huh. A hand with a sense of humor. Never seen that one before.

After a lovely time of fellowship, it was time for the return trip home. Which was, oh yeah, eight hours. To pass the time, I took some more photos of the sib-a-lings who had nowhere to run. Ha.

Pity them. Either someone was too hot or too cold on the ride, resulting in extreme temperatures. This was one of the instances where the air conditioner was turned below zero and we had to snuggle close to one another and wrap ourselves in layers of blankets. All to please a select few who were hot.

Our talented Tahoe driver, formally known as 'Dad.' Today is also this wonderful person's birthday, so I'd like to say something that you have likely never heard on someone's special day:

*clears throat* Happy Birthday, Dad!

I also amused myself by photographing semi trucks riding past. Here's one from Mickey D's.

"Na na na na, I'm lovin' it."

This kept me sane on the long drive home. Along with cherry lollipops.

While I don't know if I'd like to attempt such a long ride all night again, NC was a wonderful place and the family and I had a great time.

Oh, and just to let everyone know, it was eventually discovered that the item Erin found beneath her in the Tahoe was in fact a piece of chalk. In short, it is still up for debate as to what a fossilized marshmallow looks like. Pity.

Favorite Fifteen

2011-03-30T09:54:00.000-04:00

Hey y'all! Well, after the lovely springtime weather we enjoyed for so long, a cold snap...happened...and reverted us back to the haunted past I call winter. In other words, hoodies and heaters are again back in style. Not my cup of tea. At all. Because it seems to do something odd and terrible to my mind. Last night, I learned just what happens when I am exceedingly cold...and tired.

I walked into the toasty warm living room and unconciously gave the heater a thumbs up sign.

*taps microphone* A thumbs up sign. In other words, I congratulated an inanimate object on a job well done.

To take my mind off such things as rain, cold, and embarrassing moments, I thought it would be fun to share my favorite fifteen actors. Maybe the ladies will make it in another post, but this one is all about my favorite men of the silver screen.

So enjoy and try to forget the confession this blog author just made. That's something of an order, by the way. ;-)

1. Dean Jones

While the rest are in no particular order, Mr. Jones is most definitely #1 on this list and in my heart. *cough* Well, anyway, he makes the top of the list. 'The Love Bug' and 'That Darn Cat' are two of my favorite movies and guess who is the lead in both? A very cute lead, I might add. With dimples. Dimples get me every time.

Just thought you should know.

2. Dick van Dyke

I like Dick van Dyke. Especially in such movies as 'Mary Poppins.' Fun Fact: Did you know that, aside from Bert, he also played the head banker in that movie? Now that's versatile.

3. Dale Midkiff (aka Clark)

Aw, and I love Clark from 'Love Comes Softly.' He's so sweet, and gentle, and...sweet. A real diamond in the rough. I could watch this movie for the sole purpose of seeing him.

4. Colin Firth (aka Mr. Darcy)

Before I ask a certain question, let me make sure you know that anyone who says that someone other than Colin Firth can properly portray Mr. Darcy in 'Pride and Prejudice' will be whopped over the head with an umbrella.

So, on to my question: Do you think that someone other than Colin Firth could properly portray Mr. Darcy?

I didn't think so.

5. Johnny Lee Miller (aka Mr. Knightley)

Another actor whom I think should be the only one to portray a certain character...namely, Mr. Knightley from 'Emma.'

The fact that I've never seen any other version of 'Emma' is completely beside the point.

6. Patrick Dempsey (aka Robert)

"We're so close to reaching that famous happy end..." Ah, Robert. Be still my 'Enchanted' heart. I don't think this movie would be the same without him. In fact, I know it wouldn't. Without him, they might as well have titled the movie 'Disenchanted.'

Just my thoughts.

7. Kirk Cameron

I had never before seen Kirk Cameron until I watched 'Fireproof' (Which happens to be one of my favorite movies of all time. Hands down.) I love the whole concept of this movie and never grow tired of watching the struggles and triumphs of Caleb Holt as he tries to win back the heart of his wife. I just love Caleb Holt. Oh, and Kirk Cameron, too. In fact, he's pretty good. Great. Awesome.

8. The Three Stooges

Don't laugh. These guys practically made up my childhood movie watching. Hey, I still watch and laugh. Classic comedy at its best. Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck.

Classic.

9. Jonathon Crombie (aka Gilbert)

Gilbert! Probably my first love of the silver screen as I can remember being quite small and watching 'Anne of Green Gables' and thinking what a nice guy he was. As I've grown older, my feelings haven't changed--with a small addition. I still think he's a nice guy, but also nice-looking. *grin* He reminds me a lot of my dad...

10. John Wayne

"Whoah, take it easy there, Pilgrim." The Duke. I love the Duke. In our family, we mainly watch his older movies as the 'newer' ones have some language and other such things. I don't think I can count the Friday nights spent with the family in the living room watching this guy. (Combo-pack DVD--you understand).

11. Don Knotts (aka Barney)

"Andyyyyyyy!" He never fails to make me laugh. 'Nuff said.

12. Danny Kaye and 13. Bing Crosby

Although (to my knowledge) they only starred in one film opposite one another, these two are a great comic team. Watch 'White Christmas' and you'll agree, I'm sure.

And if you don't agree, do not come telling me about it. I don't want to hear it. *brandishes umbrella*

14. Ken Berry

'F-Troop', 'The Love Bug Rides Again', 'The Cat From Outer Space.' None of these would be the same without the comic genius of this man right here.

15. Ken (aka Toy Story 3)

Um, when I said Ken, I was speaking of Ken Ber-- Just how did you get in here? It surely couldn't be that you're one of Erin's favorite actors because, in reality, you're nothing more than a glamorized Barbie assessory. A toy.

We better leave it at that.

So do any of these actors make your top fifteen list? If you happen to have a top fifteen list. It might be kind of odd to make one. I really don't know...do you? Wait, don't ask me. You're talking to the girl who practically converses with propane heaters. ;)

Squeep!

2011-03-28T12:11:00.001-04:00

I just made that word up--cute, ain't it? I quite agree with you.

It is used to describe my exhilaration at my new camera lens which arrived via UPS last week. It's a 50mm and has already earned my undying love and admiration. Remember those photos from my last post? The macro shots that sharply captured the details? Yeah, I'm dizzy with happiness.

The photo above where my hair is wet and tangled? The very one. It was made yesterday after the twin and I ran to feed the neighbor's horses. Their house is a little distance from ours and I suggested that we drive the Jeep since it looked like rain. But Elisabeth claimed that she didn't want to waste the gas...so we walked.

And the clouds promptly unleashed their fury as we began the trek home. A fact that meant charging through the pouring rain, squishing through the soggy ditch, and getting cold feet (literally) because I had the wonderful presence of mind to wear flip-flops.

Oh, for a turquoise umbrella when you need one.

But at least we saved the miniscule amount of gas it would have taken to drive there, right? If I come down with a life-threatening case of pneumonia, y'all keep reminding my twin of this fact, got it? ;)

Note: We had Dominoe's pizza at a friend's house afterwards, so everything was fine. (I've found a good pepperoni pizza can cure a lot of things...how about you?)

I Shouldn't Do This To Me...

2011-03-25T08:31:00.000-04:00

...And I shouldn't do this to you. I really shouldn't.

Should I?

For all I know, this might ruin your entire day as far as doing anything productive. Because you'll be daydreaming of chocolate swirl brownies. Those warm and delicious chocolate swirl brownies.

And as I'm sure we're all conscious of, daydreaming of chocolate swirl brownies and productivity don't exactly mesh.

Rather, they clash.

So what in the world is possessing me to do this? Am I driven by the fact that these look so scrumptious, it would be a crime not to share? Possibly.

In any case, no one has to tell us that brownies are loaded with calories. Aren't healthy for us. Might spike our blood sugar. No, no one has to tell us these things.

But-

(Just so you're aware, this is the moment where we all join hands for support). Holding tight? Because while the above facts are ingrained in our minds,we also know that--

Brownies are sweet.

Moist.

Loaded with rich chocolate.

Better with each heavenly bite.

Help me, someone.

"And I don't know how it gets better than this. You take my hand and drag me head-first, fearless."

(From the song, Fearless, by Taylor Swift. Perhaps not quite in the context she meant, but oh well. She probably loves brownies, too, and won't mind this once.)

I'm tilting on the edge of a sugar meltdown here and I'm guessing that you're in the same boat. And far be it from me to affect my readers in a negative way. Just forget you ever saw these photos. Erase it all from your memory and go eat an apple. A healthy, crisp apple that lacks processed sugar and choco chips. Oh, and readers?

Have a productive day. :)

Windows.

2011-03-23T11:29:00.001-04:00

I have lately considered how writing has deeply affected the way I take in the world around me. Because I want to share the same impressions in a story or even a blog post. And I want to do it ably. For writing is also a window. A way to share your life through the power of words. The feelings I experience, especially at this time of year, when the world around me is fresh and new is difficult to explain, but I want to make an attempt by sharing that--

It's a heightened sense of awareness, a feeling that draws you even closer to God's creation.

It's a desire to share what you feel, and see, and know--and to do it adequately, if not admirably. The fire licking at burning coals as the sausage dogs sizzle and pop on the grill above. The dappled sunlight in a pine forest. The rusty motor purr of a kitten nestled in your lap. The deep, rich scent of chocolate swirl brownies baking in the oven. The cool taste of a peppermint. The icy chill you experience when the ocean of early morning surges around your ankles. The glow of city lights mirrored in the hundreds of raindrops racing down the car window.

It's something that cannot be captured completely. That is just not possible. Not with words and not with photography. To fully know and understand what you're saying, others have to be there. To experience it themselves. To actually see what you see. But well-chosen, well-written words grant others a glimpse, a window, into your world and your perceptions.

I hope that I may do this and do it well.

(Island Memories)
My photo for Hannah's link-up. Nothing quite whispers 'nostalgia' to me than browsing through photos from our family vacation to the beach. I ache to go back and am counting the days until July.

Flowers and Fishsticks

2011-03-21T14:06:00.006-04:00

I know. Not your typical 'so happy that it's spring I'm going to do a blog post about it' title.

What's the link between the two? Gasp. Need you even ask? Connect the dots already. It's so obvious.

Erin loves flowers and Erin loves fishsticks.

There. That should be relative enough for you. ;)

Beyond that, Erin has a modge-podge of photos that she wants to share and now seemed like a good time.

Although I've already commenced with a few 'spring-like' posts, yesterday was the first official day of spring, Thus, we couldn't just let that slip past unnoticed on this blog, right?

Right.

Around here, nothing is more the trademark of this season than dandelions. And dandelion dust. And blowing on the dandelion dust and making wishes. :)

The blade of grass sort of makes it look as though the dandelion is wiping the sweat from his fluffy brow.

"My, it's quite the scorcher today. If only someone would blow all of these seeds off, I'm sure I would feel much cooler."

Happy to oblige. :)

"It's so fluffy I'm gonna die!" (Name that movie)

As promised! A lovely springtime lunch...the more ketchup the better. I could eat these every day.

Hum. Can't eat that. Sure, it's a feast for the eyes, but--Oh, wait, we've fluttered back over to the flower photos.

I knew that.

These li'l guys just squeal "Spring is here! Spring is here!", don't they?

"In the greenhouse, the pretty greenhouse, the pla-ants thrive todayyyyy. Ooooh weeee eeee eee ee." (To the tune of 'In the Jungle.' Don't ask me where that thought just came from 'cause I have no idea.)

I love these.

Aw, look at him! He's as busy as a--as a--hmmm, what I had in mind sounds awfully cliche. ;)

How very industrious. He has my utmost admiration.

The gorgeous bouquet that the youngest little brother picked for me and Elisabeth. A bouquet he decided to place in our bedroom. It was a-- *pauses to extract dandelion seed from hair*--thoughtful gift and one we appreciated despite the...well, mess that comes with such presents. *Blows at seed floating through the bedroom*

Well, hello again! Look at the little sunshine cartoon on the plate peeking up from behind this scrumptious sandwich and try to tell me that this photo doesn't relate to spring. Just try.

Right, so technically my pretty sissa in her green St. Patrick's Day shirt is not a flower. Or a fishstick. But I couldn't very well title this post 'Flowers and Fishsticks and Elisabeth.' It just doesn't sound quite as euphonious.

Okay, so, flowers? Check. Fishsticks? Check.

Yep, I think we've covered everything. :)

Happy Day After the First Official Day of Spring, everyone! (In case you try to look that up on your calendar, please know that I made it up. Thus, this blog is likely the only place you'll get wished such. Feel special. ;-))

Splashes of Color

2011-03-17T11:10:00.000-04:00

Does this photo make you happy? It makes me happy. Because...it's colorful. The dreary winter grays are finally fading away and splashes of color are appearing everywhere.

Here's a shot at the same location without the blurring. Isn't it positively absolutely gorgeous? It's an...upside down...round, blown glass vase...I think. My grandmother is really creative in the garden and she comes up with awesome ideas like that.

And I know what you're thinking. So technically most of the colors in these photos are man-made, but there are splatters of natural colors manifesting themselves in the blossoming flowers outside. I'm saving those photos for another post though, so you'll have to take my word for it. Let's skip back to the bokeh shot now.

Wow, I could just jump in to swim and splash around in all of that. Are you as glad as I am that God blessed us with beautiful colors? Think of how bleak...and dull...and bleak the world would be in only black and white. Bleak. Bleak. Bleak.

I guess we've established the fact that the world would be bleak?

Well, it's absolutely true. Give me color--and I feel oh so happy. And maybe a tad whimsical. And spontaneous. For instance, the photos above make me want to:

--Make a big pitcher of pink lemonade, pour in some clinking ice cubes, and draw happy smiles in the condensation that builds on the outside of the glass. Then pour it in a big Mason jar to drink, pour, repeat. :)

--Sing! Any 'ole happy melody will do.

--Take out my little sister's pink hula hoop that lights up and give it a whirl.

--Pick out a new song on the piano. I'm not very skilled at reading music, but give me a tune and I'll sit there for ages picking it out. Plink, plink, plink.

(A stained glass window...also my grandmother's)

--Go skydiving! Well, that one may be a bit of a stretch. I'd jump at the chance to go flying anyway.

--Carry a good book outside, pull out a plastic lawn chair, and sit down and read in the sunshine.

--Paint a picture of a springtime scene. Squeeze the acrylic paint out of their respective tubes onto a pallet, set up an easel, and pull out my canvas and paintbrushes. Sounds wonderful, doesn't it? If I had a lick of artistic talent. Or owned a pallet or easel. Or had any acrylic paint, for that matter. :)

--Turn as many cartwheels as possible in the green, green grass in the side yard.

So do the happy colors in the photos make you want to do anything fun or spontaneous? Maybe something from my list? I don't expect you to go skydiving, but you need to do something that holds a little thrill. ...Hold on, let me select one for you. How about---cartwheels?

Go ahead. Who's going to care? Take off your shoes, dash outside with a colorful, spring-y song in your heart and turn some cartwheels.

Do it, do it, do it.

Unless you're sort of impaired at cartwheels and always end up falling flat on your back. Like me. In such a case, I'd suggest you refrain. Just keep that spring-y song in your happy heart and do jumping jacks instead. ;-)

The Quest for the {Yellow} Dress

2011-03-15T10:34:00.001-04:00

It's almost that time of year again! What time is that? Spri-ingtime! And with spring comes that much anticipated day to shop for a new spring outfit.

I have decided that this year, I want a yellow dress. A bright, happy, sunshiney yellow dress. *gasp* Not turquoise?

For shame, Erin.

Before you judge, take a look inside my closet. There is quite the assortment of colors as far as clothing goes. Turquoise, turquoise, blue, light blue, aquamarine, turquoise.

Yes, I know, quite the variety.

In other words, when your closet looks like it's been invaded by a swarm of turquoise umbrellas as well as the Smurfs, it's time to cut back a bit. Or so my sister tells me.

Whether or not one can have too much turquoise colored clothing is still up for debate.

Moving on--do you have any idea how trying it is to find a modest, affordable, and yet still cute yellow dress? Let me assure you, as far as my internet search for yellow dresses has gone, it is next to impossible. *sigh*

Oh, and my twin has decided that she wants a yellow dress as well, so this should be interesting if we do find two yellow dresses. I said we'll probably look like a pair of li'l chicks.

Peep, peep.

Fear not, I will keep you all updated on this thrilling search. ;-)

Do you shop for a new outfit in the spring and, if so, do you have a particular color that you gravitate toward?

Giveaway ::Winners::

2011-03-12T11:09:00.000-05:00

The winners for my first ever blog giveaway have been drawn! *yay* While I could have used that random number generator thingamajig on the internet, I saw the idea to film myself drawing the winners on my friend, Emily's, blog before and that looked really fun...so I went that route. :)

ONE MAJOR THING before you watch. In the video, I accidentally said that I was drawing a winner for a cupcake bracelet, when in reality, I was drawing a winner for the donut bracelet.

What's worse, I said it twice.

*ducks head in shame for having been thinking about the wrong dessert*

To the winner of the donut bracelet, I profusely apologize. Please forgive my slip-up and please know that you won the donut charm bracelet. :)

All right, now that we have that cleared up, on to the winners!

:)) Congratulations again to both of you and thanks to all who entered!

Note: Um, yes, I am an 'ummer.' It's a bad habit. ;-)

perfectly imperfect

2011-03-10T10:21:00.001-05:00

Note: My giveaway has ended and I will be drawing and announcing the winners soon! :)

When it comes to portrait photography, I can often be found guilty of only sharing those correctly cropped, properly exposed, posed shots. I quickly sift through the ones with low quality or where someone is making a face and move on to those 'perfect' photos.

Which leads me to the thought that it can be so easy to stay on the 'main roads' when showing people your photography, can't it? We believe that it is far better to share the flawless shots that viewers will appreciatively ooh and ahh over, right? Avoid the back roads at all costs. Only share the shots whose quality you deem acceptable to the public eye. Ignore the rest.

But, by doing this, we miss out on...

Those shots from that visit to a state park when the man in the nature show placed a baby alligator on your little brother's head.

The cropping is poor, the lighting bad, but the expression...priceless.

(The little brother's expression. Not the reptile's. Thought I should clarify.) ;-)

That photo of your twin cousins where both are looking away because Sister sneaked a glance at Brother to see what he was doing.

The look on your cousin's face in a photo taken at the family beach vacation last year. Sure, the cropping is very poor, but his expression? It's all him. All the way.

The moment your seven year old brother hoisted your Canon 50D up by himself and captured your youngest brother giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

The photo wherein your twin sister claims she looks tired and pale, but the blue sky of early morning is reflected in her eyes.

The hilarious scrunched up face your little subject made during a photo session in only the way babies can do while still successfully looking cute.

Taking the conscious leap to share the 'back roads' of your photography with viewers can be daunting...but it will usually be a journey filled with raw human emotion. Isn’t that what portrait photography is all about?

And when the subjects from these images are grown-up or older and the events behind the photos themselves are but a memory, sure we'll look at the posed portraits and smile. But what will really grab our attention are the ones where that person's true personality seems to leap out from the photograph. These are the photos we'll remember best. These are the photos we'll laugh and talk about in years to come.

Because they're real.

They're genuine.

They're-

Perfectly imperfect. :-)

“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever... it remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.” ~ Aaron Siskind

Under My Turquoise Umbrella

the little bird is free from the cage.

i'll be seeing you

We Be Huntin'

when autumn comes.

sporadic.

Sweet Breakfast Memories (Literally)

Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning?

south carolina, low country

Simply Because

vote now

A Kitten's Tale

Country Girls Can't Survive

a veritable mish mash.

The Individual's Guide to Living With Gnats

{Three Things} That Normal People Wouldn't Do

and so I write.

An Adventure in Awesomeness

See Swimmy. See Swimmy Swim.

Photo Challenge {Framed}

Go Hug a Puppy

Endings

Summer Tune-Up

Point and Shoot

Chocolate Chip Cookie Dessert Recipe

Prayer Request

Summer Nights

Of Preconceived Misconceptions

{Poultry in Motion}

Fishing Conversations

In Which I Share Worthwhile Thoughts

Down at the {River}

*raises sparkly turquoise megaphone*

a taste for blackberries.

And...action!

The Good, the Bad, and the Fluffy

thwump.

Portrait Contest Entries

Morning of the Monkeys

{Between You and Me}

As Promised

Memory Lane

versatile.

For the Love of Weekends

The Quest has Ended

{7} Random Facts

Reflections Through the Storm

Of Travels, Tales, and Smolders

Favorite Fifteen

Squeep!

I Shouldn't Do This To Me...

Windows.

Flowers and Fishsticks

Splashes of Color

The Quest for the {Yellow} Dress

Giveaway ::Winners::

perfectly imperfect

raises sparkly turquoise megaphone