time machine...

When I was younger I journaled all the time.  Almost every night I'd tuck into bed, lay on my belly, and pour my heart out on the college-ruled lines.  I'd fill up large FiveStar 3-subject spirals with pages and pages, front and back, of brain flow.  The adventures of my 5th grade through high school years were diligently described in sparkly gel ink and doodles.  I wrote primarily about boys.  Naturally.  And quite a bit about my girl friends too.  Oh, the drama!  Oh, the horrible poems I wrote and painstakingly rhymed line after line.

Eventually some of the notebooks had to be destroyed due to being discovered.  I had been careless and kept them in a not-secret-enough hiding space.  Pillow cases - not a good place!  The vulnerability of having so much raw emotion exposed left me extremely wounded and I ripped the pages into itty-bitty shreds, not willing to take the risk of them being read again.

Nevertheless, I continued journaling.  In college, blogging took over much of the physical writing and has continued being my primary tool of brain flow, although about twice a month I still get out pen and paper and attempt processing my thoughts the old fashioned way.  Occasionally I think back to those journals.  All the pain, excitement, and naivety they held.  Sometimes I wish I could go back and read them.  To see how things have changed.  If I've grown up, if I've followed my 16-year old dreams, the lessons I've learned and how the past has shaped me.  I forget so much of my past!  Sometimes I want to laugh at how hard I thought life was, and read about all the adventures I had growing up.

So... imagine my surprise when, before Thanksgiving my parents had their basement ceilings redone.  Trust me, this is related.  I jokingly asked Mom if there had been any surprises in the ceiling in my room.  She laughed and said, "Actually, yes.  There were a few notebooks and journals up there.  He sat them on your shelf."

It was my ultimate hiding place - the rafters above my closet in the basement.  As a kid I had to drag over a chair and reach on my tip-toes to stick the books in the ceiling.  It was also possibly, maybe - ahem - where I hid a bottle of Crown Royal after an upperclassmen snuck it to me (why was I drinking Crown as a teenager?!  Seriously... I thought it was so cool).  The hiding space was a pain, but well worth the effort.  I was giddy to see the dusty journals again.  That night I stayed up extra late, just like when I was little.  Reading by the small light of my closet, all the stories and heartaches, and joys of me as a kid came alive.  It was hilarious.  And heartbreaking.  And surprising.  And seriously, so funny.  I really wrote terrible poems!  If I eventually get brave, I'll share some on here.

I did want to share one of the entries.  Just because it's fun.  And it wasn't all about boys for once.  It was written shortly after Christmas and the new year of the millennium and it was cute for a few reasons:

1) I had finally started dating Brady, my high school sweetheart.  The decision to date him had apparently been, from reading previous entries, a laborious thought process of 'should I or shouldn't I?'.  Which is hilarious because as unsure as I was in the beginning, I ended up falling head over heels for him and was completely devastated when it ended (although I pretended I wasn't).  And I can say that now because it's almost 10-years later, we've clearly moved on, and no one cares about high school relationships anymore anyway.  I also read the journal pictured below was a gift from him.  It had a lock - perfect for protecting my secrets, and displayed #55 on the cover.  Which he wanted me to change to #65 because that was his football number.  Geesh, we were so cheesy!

2) It made me smile about how excited I was to get a new camera.  It was a great reminder that this whole photography thing has been in my blood for a long, long time.  It was my first SLR.  A Nikon N60.  Film.  I adored that camera.  Many 4-H ribbons were won with that beauty.  It also reminded me I was such a goody-two shoes I couldn't even spell *ss in my own journal.  Some things never change.

3)  Being Junior-class president stressed the heck out of me.  I had totally forgotten.  And then it all hit me at once... reading how thrilled I was to have class fundraising over.  The joys of organizing Jr./Sr. Prom...

All in purple sparkly gel pen for your reading pleasure.

toast crunch...

Last night I decided not to workout because my legs were hairy and my long workout pants were still drying.  That's totally legit.  One cannot risk hairy legs in a workout class.  If the instructor had to make an adjustment, or the light hit just right... yikes!

Instead, I decided to make cinnamon rolls - a goal I'd been procrastinating for quite some time.  My Grandma was a master baker and sold cinnamon rolls across half the state of Kansas.  So, although baking fresh bread with yeast scared the jeebers out of me, it was time to give it a go.  The process was more fun and actually simpler than I'd built it up in my head.  I didn't kill the yeast, and also managed to roll out the dough in a rectangularish shape (my second greatest baking fear... rolling pins), so it was an overall success.  Unfortunately the pan I used cooked the bottoms of the rolls a little darker than I'd prefer, so they weren't as soft and awesome as Grandma used to make.  However, it was a great learning experience, and, my kitchen helpers made the process way better than cooking alone.

Pictured below - 1) Renee cutting the rolls 2) Rolls ready for the oven 3) Brian and Renee begging the rolls to cook faster; *please note I did not set up this shot.  I honestly didn't.  They were both kneeling in front of the oven salivating all over the floor.  And no, that is not a bottle of Wellers on the counter.  Also, no, we did not take shots  in-between kneading the dough.  While obnoxiously singing the 'Shots!' song by LMFAO. That would be silly.  4) Rolls out of the oven with frosting that set up before the rolls were finished.  Even though it was extra thick, the frosting definitely tasted like Grandma's!

Thank goodness for cancelled workouts.  And sugar.

pretty girl...

Missy 

2000 - 2010

Our one and only puppy

Daddy's dog

Eagerly awaiting his arrival each day

Tail wagging at top speed

Always a playful, happy spirit

You brought us much joy and laughter

Lots of slobbery kisses

Never turned down a belly rub

Or a good rabbit chase

May you rest in peace under the old pine trees.

fading...

This weekend I was over at Kelly's celebrating Nathan's b-day (happy birthday to you!).  As soon as I pulled up I noticed lots of red around her yard.  So, in a most polite fashion I walked in, said hello, dropped off the beer and said, "Kelly - lots of red stuff around your yard... let's take some pictures!"

And just like that, we were out the front door with cameras in hand.  The poor folks who drove by during our outing saw some strange scenes.  It was so nice to having someone shooting beside me - I didn't look crazy alone.  We had a ball.  Now presenting, edit-free... Project Red, Take II.

tooth fairy...

Weird things just happen to me on Wednesdays.  Today - another great example.  Part of the afternoon was spent in a dental chair for Round II of a root canal.  So, a few shots later (uuuuuugh), my face was, again, as numb as could be. And yes, I mean my face.  Up to my eyeball.  Side of nose.  Everything on the left side.  Numb-o.  Well, he finishes the procedure lickety-split, and I'm on my way.  Still completely numb.
 
I then go to the bank drive-thru.  I'd needed to deposit some checks for photo stuff.  Had the form filled out and everything, in a hopeful effort to avoid talking to anyone while I could not feel my tongue.  The guy on the intercom comes on, "Sorry ma'am.  Some of the checks you are depositing are made out to your business name, but this is not a business account."

Me: Ushmm... yesshsh ith ishsh (wipe drool).

Him:  No, it's a personal account.  It's not coded as business, so we can't deposit these.  I'm really sorry, we've had to crack down on this lately so you might have been able to do this before, but we just can't anymore.

Me:  Ith ishishhs a busshinessh account.  Thatghs what I sshhhigned ith up ash to begin withsh (followed by dramatic sigh.  And more drool).

Him:  I'm sorry, we don't have it down as that.  You have two personal accounts and no business account.

Me:  I'm schorry too becaushshe I when I creathshed  thishs account I schpechifcally indicathed bushshiness.  Why would I need thwo pershonal accounthss?

Him:  It's actually really easy to change.  You just have to close this account and open a new one.   You can come inside and do it.   It doesn't take long at all.  I'm really sorry for the trouble.

Me:  I'm scshorry too.  Thish is wheediculoush!  (Are you kidding me? Someone save me from  myself... it just kept getting worse.)

Him: Thanks, and have a wonderful day! (translation: Hey weirdo, please quit spitting on the intercom and get out of the drive-thru.)

Then, with my last bit of pride, I parked the car, wiped off more drool, and walked inside the bank.  Over an hour later I had an official business account and a little bit a feeling returning to my lower lip.  When I asked Joe how he would know it was me when I called to be reimbursed for the checks I'd have to repurchase (which I was extremely frusshhrated about), he distinctly said, "Don't worry.  I will remember you."

Oh boy.

morning glory...

So, for those I'm not able to catch up with often - life has changed quite a bit in the last few months.  For example - instead of meetings and phone calls, restaurant visits, early flights, and a bajillion emails, I now polish teeth (...would you like mint, cinnamon, blue-rasberry, cotton candy, bubblegum, pina-colada, or root-beer?), take x-rays, and assist with fillings, crowns, and cleanings.

And I work with a kick-booty dentist.  Who, lucky me, loves photography too.  So, when we have the chance, we gab about photography - ideas, struggles and our favorite shots.  Recently, after Kelly visited the KC Plaza Art fest (and I sniffled about not being able to go) we had the idea of photo projects.  We didn't want to get in the rut of always photographing the same thing (her = 4-month old, me = portraits & weddings) so we created a list of things to shoot.

First on the list was 'red'.  Anything red goes, but the overall goal was to compose a photograph that someone might want to hang in their living room, or office, or maybe even the garage.  Whatever.  Just something cool that people could relate to and/or find interest in.  I thought this project would be super awesome.  I thought red things would accost me from every angle begging to be photographed.  Turns out I was wrong.  I think I went over three weeks without taking a single red themed photograph.  I just couldn't find inspiration.  And then finally, FINALLY, this weekend the wheels started turning.  So, here's my 'red' project.  I'd say it's incomplete... I'm looking for three to five additional photographs to accompany the set, but here's what's going on so far.


Leaf.  I wish you could see photo up close... dew drops on the leaf, taken this morning.

playing favorites...

Guess who I got to hang out with this weekend?  Oh yeah, this girl!

She is so awesome.  And her Mommy and Daddy are too.  I just can't get ENOUGH of her cute little face!

under pressure...

Another wonderful Wednesday.  Had a massage scheduled this morning.  She was about to work the leg muscles when I bashfully muttered something like, "I'm so sorry... haven't shaved the legs... really embarrassed... ran out of time this morning... working on my winter coat...uh, uh..."

Being the kind person she is, the massage therapist responds, "Don't worry about it - it's really not a big deal.  And this might not help you feel better, but, it's really just like massaging a man."

Ummm... definitely did not help me feel better.  Instead it made me think of really hairy men's legs for the remainder of the session.

Razor - stat!

momma said there'd be days like these...

Saturday:

- morning photo session

- flag football game (win!)

- observe friends' flag football game (another win!)

- picnic at Liberty Memorial with Laura Z (she spoiled me with amazing food!)

- Union Station meanderings

- confession

- therapeutic phone call

- Bridget and Kayla visit for brinner and a movie

Perfect poof clouds.  Lots o' exclamation points.  Life is so good.

balance...

I wanted to give a peek into my life.  The stuff that makes me happy and peaceful and full.  Days like today.  Nights like this one.  It just makes me so thankful for the gift of life, for friendships, for wonderfully perfect weather.

I am blessed to have Wednesdays off.  Each week, like clockwork, a day off in the middle of the week.  How crazy is that?  And, for the most part, they are just the best days.  Not because it's a chance to sleep-in, or be a bum, or have a marathon TV series session.

The days are much too precious for that.  Instead it's my time to be purposeful.  There are things that need to be done, of course, but whatever it is - it's done with purpose and joy.  Morning Mass, meditation, and restful solitude.  The most extraordinary way to begin any day of the week.  Calm, peaceful quietness.  Coffee with a friend usually follows.  Maybe for an hour, more likely two.  The farmer's market, which happens to be open Wednesday mornings (hello fresh peaches - yes, more please).  Then back home for a few hours of photography-focused progress.  Ordering, emailing, editing, educating, planning.  And then a nap.  Definitely a nap.  Thirty minutes to avoid bad-nap grogginess.  No one likes bad-nap grogginess.

Roommates come home.  Play cribbage and pretend to forget we were going to workout instead.  Paint nails with purple sparkly polish.  Roommates note how (ahem) classy it looks.  Try to shuffle cards with wet nail polish.  Fail.  Take a walk to make up for the cheese and crackers consumed during cribbage.  Soak up the most gorgeous, most perfect temperatured weather known to man, also known as autumn.  Exclaim loudly about how awesome it is and how you can't get enough and never want it to end.

Walk to friends' house who's having people over for wine and snacks.  Converse too long then walk back in the dark.  It's okay - roommate was loaned a head lamp.  Talk about boys and God and relationships and bras and joys and frustrations and life all the way home.

Read the comics and the advice column of yesterday and today's paper.  Laugh with roommates about our favorites.  Successfully complete the Sodoku.  Let out a little whoop.  Well, it's only Tuesday's puzzle, but still...

Attempt completing roommate's freshman theology exam she recently gave in class.  Have little success, but learn things in the process.  Write brain-flow post about this day and how all days should be like this.  How every day should be purposeful, restful, joyful and, at least part of the time, spent in good company.

Read myself to sleep.

yellow submarine...

There is nothing I quite enjoy more than spending the weekend with my family.  Even when enduring treacherous lake waves, lightning bolts, and full-speed ahead rain pellets against our already shivering and shaking bodies, if we're together, we're happy, and usually laughing.  Even when we have to raise the question... "Dad, hypothetically speaking, if this boat were to flip over what, exactly, should we do?" At least it's with the ones I love.  Have mercy.

Praise God we made it safely to the dock.  Two hours later, blue skies.  

good to see you, my old friend...

Hello world.

autumn soundtrack...

My roommate and I walked to the library Sunday evening. Amongst our footsteps the sounds of crunching leaves could be heard throughout our journey.

When did that happen?

I wanted to, but there was no denying it. Crunch, crunch. Step, step, crunch.

Fall is on its way.

where the wild things are...

Thanks to all my friends who love me during my crazies. Have mercy.

And thank you for laughing with and/or at me when I tell you all the weirdness that run through my head in a given day.

I would be a whole lot less sane without you.

may flowers...

It's Labor Day, and the rest of Monday will consist of laundering a big ol' pile of camp-fire smoke filled clothing/towels/sleeping bags, finishing up edits on a recent wedding shoot, and practicing diving board tricks until the pool pass expires. But for now, I have one precious hour to blog about this summer. One of my best to date, starting in May. So here's to bathing suits and fro-yo, slalom skiing and many, many cooking adventures:

In May (okay, I just looked this up - it was in April... so not exactly summer, but I'm counting it), my parents and I headed to K-State to celebrate the dedication of the Leadership Studies building. I was part of the program during my time there, and received a minor in Leadership, so it was awesome to see the gorgeous addition to the campus. We used to have classes in an old home that had been (sort-of) renovated to host classes and meetings. The program grew from a few students having an idea, to a flourishing bustle of activity that plays a big role throughout the campus - I think over 1,000 students (or a lot more... I couldn't find the statistic and didn't want to exaggerate). And all of that is wonderful and cool, and I'm happy to see it, but the real reason we made the trip was because a photo taken during Liz and my trip to Kauai was selected as artwork in the space. It was so fun to see that thing blown up and hung in the hall. I was just getting things going with photography and definitely needed a boost in confidence. We had a great time roaming around campus and Aggieville. Every time I return, memories surround me at every turn. Ah, college.

We then left for Kansas City and had to get Mom to some shopping. Poor thing - her nearest shopping strip is in a neighboring town 40 minutes away, and the options... they're slim. You should have seen her eyes when we pulled up at Legends. During lunch at Cheeseburger in Paradise, she was decorated by balloon man as a butterfly. Cracked me up.
Dad and I headed to beautiful California for a mini-vacation. We both needed a break, and had an awesome trip - especially returning to Ocean Beach and all things we loved about that place from our trip a couple years ago. The original reason for the travel was to attend a photography conference in Newport Beach. Escalate Live was very cool - great speakers, inspirational presentations, and total immersion in all things photography. It was intimidating at first, but definitely worth the experience. While I was in sessions, Dad cruised around the area and found fun things for us to do in the evenings. Riding bikes along the beach, taking a baby-cruise around the harbor, and - my favorite - flying kites at night on the sand and watching the blue waves crash in. Pretty much perfect.
And then there was Memorial Weekend. It was incredible!. To celebrate Bridget's upcoming wedding, and her last month as a single lady, the bridesmaids planned a trip to Lake of the Ozarks. It was just what the doctor ordered. Our rental home was perfect - it had a huge, beautiful deck, a sunny dock and paddle boat. We spent two days immersed in sunshine, magazines, books, and girl talk. And our paddle boat only almost capsized once. We had to send out a rescue crew with a 5-gallon bucket and a floaty raft to rescue us.





Okay, my hour is up and we're at the end of May. Next up, June and all it's glory.

two bare feet on the dashboard...

Say what? August 8th was the last post in this silly, random, whirlwind of a blog? What, exactly, is the dealio with that?

This girl is a s-l-a-c-k-e-r. That's what.

I became so overwhelmed at all the photographs I longed to post (which takes forever and three days to upload...), and the stories I couldn't wait to share, and all the adventures of the summer I wanted to document so I could reminisce when I'm gray and crazier and my memory doesn't serve me so well - that I just couldn't make myself spend the time in front of the computer screen to chug through it all. So, instead I did nothing. Not even a mini-update. Just... nothing. I hid in real life, with my beach towel, my frisbee, and every last drop of sunshine I could gather, and stayed as far away from little Mac as possible.

Eventually I felt guilty for my slackerness. And I still wanted to share my stories. So hopefully, really hopefully within the next week I'll have settled down and tended to the blog. No promises though because (WARNING: somewhat related passionate tangent ahead)...

We're losing approximately two minutes of daylight. Every! Single! Day! So get out there people - enjoy the beautiful weather, the disgusting humidity, the heat. Because it's fading quickly. And pretty soon we'll be tromping around in boots and seven layers of sweaterscoatsandwoolstockings complaining that it's so blasted miserably cold.

Go outside! Go play! Remember what it was like to be a kid and soak up this sweet summertime. Get off your duffs, away from the television and computer monitors and comfy air-conditioning. Just pretty please live up summer while it lasts!

And I'll get around to posting as soon as my pool pass runs out...

north star...

It was an incredible, beautiful, and wonderfully athletic weekend at the lake. My shoulders and ribcage feel stretched beyond capacity, and my sinuses are still filled with algae-green lake water from frequent crash and burns. But we conquered. Slalom ski, wakeboard, knee board, and skis - we conquered.

Lawn chair naps, fire-pit grilled burgers, Big Dippers, and ghost stories - we conquered those too.

I don't wanna be back to civilization.

But I don't WANNA!

joy to the world...

About 7pm this evening I had the dorkiest smile on my face. The kind that doesn't happen everyday. More so just at Christmastime when you're five years old and waiting oh so patiently to unwrap the (hopefully, pretty-please-I'll-never-ask-for-anything-again-in-my-life) Cabbage Patch doll. That's what makes those smiles special and extra dorky when they do come around.

I had just met the guy who is going to be developing my photography brand. He is awesome. Awesome, awesome.

AWESOME.

Oh, and that's why I didn't get around to posting the summer in review photos today. That and a lot of other reasons. There was no time for little Mac. Too much life happening this beautiful day. Perhaps early next week. I've got a lake to get to this weekend...

the sweet life...

It's not my fault I'm up this late. It's not my fault and I will regret it terribly in the morning. Should have known better than to drink strong coffee at 8:30pm. And now that I'm awake and all sorts of reflective, why not a quick post... A friend of mine recently stumbled upon the ol' blog, and mentioned how it's been up since 2005. I sort of laughed and thought, yep, kinda crazy. But I didn't really think about it until my caffeine-buzzed drive home. 2005. A Little Spark of Madness has been a part of the Blogger society for five years. Then for a second I felt old. And then I got over it (uh, for the most part).

So I looked it up when I got home. Turns out he was right... in seven more days the blog is five years old. Sort of funny the whole thing got started in order to post and share photos with friends and family. Yes, that was because back then Facebook didn't have a photo uploading option. Or photo albums period. (Gasp - there was a time Facebook didn't have photo-sharing capabilities? My word. What did we do with all our spare time? Mighty good question my friend... )

Thanks to everyone's readership and support through the blog. It is a joy to share my life with you, and for you to endure all my ramblings and musings... I'm very grateful.

The celebration will be marked by posting a plethora (and I do mean plethora) of photos from the happenings of this spring/summer, hopefully by tomorrow sometime. So help me slow-downloading function, that I do not pull out all my sun-bleached hair by the time that post is complete.

Happy five years and 287 posts.

someone has a case of the...

Monday's aren't supposed to be this good. Lucky for me, sometimes they aren't half bad. Here's how it went:

1) Polished and flossed my first 'real' adult patient today (many friends and family of the dentistry team had to be my pretend patients). It went pretty smoothly. Other than me sweating up a storm under those scrubs and the hot light. And putting my mask on inside out. I was nervous!

2) Very, very cautiously I sat in my car after work. It was hot in there - stifling. The sun had been blasting it all day long. I held my breath. If I inhaled, I would have to endure the rank, sour milk still roasting in my car mat. The only problem - at some point during the five mile drive home, I had to breathe. Oh boy. It started as a slight sniff. Quick, shallow. Just enough to keep from passing out. Hmmm... it seems... all clear? A deeper sniffle. Again, nothing. Not a whif. It can't be! The newspaper trick worked. Mom told me to crumple up newsprint and place it on the spill. I left it overnight. And wah-lah! It works people. I'm telling you, the newspaper works. I hope you never spill milk in your car - never, ever, ever - but if you do, remember the newspaper trick. Mom's always know, don't they? Thanks Momma.

3) Made a milkshake for dinner.

4) Met an awesome future bride and groom tonight. They were just happy and warm and fun. And easy-going. I didn't want our conversation to end. Big dorky smile on my face when I left the coffee shop.

Happy Monday, indeed.



BONUS: Jen and I stumbled upon this lovely and vast Christmas in July yard display during our walk yesterday evening. Uhhh... 'tis the Season!

don't cry...

About a week ago I spilled milk in my car. Not much, maybe a half a cup from a travel-mug I was bringing to work for my coffee.

Oh. My. Gosh. Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh. There is the most wretched, gag-inducing stench infiltrating my poor little car!

WRETCHED!

I wish this fate upon no one.

imma be, imma be, imma imma imma be... a photographer...?

Today was the KC Wedding Extravaganza extrodinaire-thingie-boppie-dealio at the Overland Park Convention Center. It was fun - lots of excited brides (and not quite as excited but tolerating grooms-to-be), well-designed booths, beautiful gowns and flowers and photographs. I was helping out at Erica's booth for The Flower Girl promotion. Our booth smelled the best, hands down (because Erica is amazing... she is, and I know I'm biased, but she still is. She's talented, folks, and she's going places. I know it). And just when I thought I really didn't care for roses... I get introduced to the Garden Rose variety. Aahhh. So yummy.

During the expo I ran into an acquaintance friend of mine and she asked if I was with a photography company, or just shooting on my own. And after telling her what I told her, I just wanted to kick myself. Right in the shin. That's sort of difficult to do, but if I say something like it again, I'm going to try. Or maybe have someone else kick me instead. Bah!

I've noticed each time someone asks about me pursuing photography as a career, I totally downplay it. "Oh, you know, I'm just doing it on the side for now. Nothing too crazy. We'll see what happens. Maybe eventually it will take off but I'm just seeing where it goes."

That's such bologna bull-hockey. Such a cop out. It's me totally not expressing what I truly want and how I really feel because I'm afraid someone will doubt me. Or judge me and my dreams. And I'm scared to death I'll see the thought, "yeah, you and hundreds of others I know trying to turn a hobby into a paycheck... gooood luck with that one," flash across their face. I don't have the guts to say yes - I know that sounds crazy, but that's okay. Because I am determined. I'm doing things differently. I'm approaching it slowly and confidently, and I'm going to do it better. I'm not going to get stuck in mediocrity, and I'm going to keep pushing myself... way beyond my comfort zone, beyond the naysayers, beyond the expectations. Yes, I really want to say all that. Or at least convey that confidence (no one really wants to hear all that chatter, I know). But I'm a big stinkin' chicken. And dilly-dally around my words and fret and wring my hands instead.

I believe God gives each of us talents, strengths, and gifts in some crazy combination that no one else has. I want to use what I've been given to the very best of my ability. And even though I'm not sure what all that will involve that's my true desire, and I know it's going to be quite a ride. So when I say I'm sorta-kinda working on this photography thing and hoping it will maybe, eventually, someday work out, what I really mean is - I am more than thrilled at the opportunity to pursue this dream - I'm incredibly grateful for this point in my life, and I can't wait to discover God's plan for my journey. Not in a kinda-sorta way, but all the way. And if photography doesn't end up being part of the plan - I'll know, because I'll have given it my best shot and have nothing left to give. And if that's the case, it will just fine with me.

Whatever it is I'll do it with white teeth - because working at a dental office while I'm kinda, sorta, doing this photography thing on the side sure has its perks.

i'm sorry, you have reached a number that has been...

I left my phone at home today and I missed it a little... wondering what planning for the weekend texts I'd be missing, and who had called throughout the day. I raced home through rush-hour traffic (thankfully full of green lights this go 'round - yay!) and ran upstairs to the little black flip-phone sitting on a lonely corner of my desk. Quickly flicked it open to see what I'd missed.

Then ate some humble soup for dinner.

Which brings me to the second wonderful thing that's happened since the job change. My phone doesn't ring. Well, not often anyway. Compared to the 30+ daily that used to be the norm. Back when my head wanted to fall off my neck in order to stop the insanity. Can anyone say sigh of relief? I can - ten times fast. Now, when it does ring, it's always a friend. Or my Momma saying hello. Or Dad calling with a funny story. And it's so weird. Like a mini-birthday gift each time the ringer sounds. No more flinching or cringing. No more crammed full voicemail inboxes. Just real, happy conversations with friends and family.

Aaaaand. One more thing. This phone only needs charged once every three days. Compared to evil Blackberry who required - no I am not kidding - three charges per day. Ah, the bliss of it all.

Okay, now back to my humble soup.



Please ignore the stain on my dress. Ahem. It was Fourth of July. Lots of food flying around. Craziness and celebration. I don't know what happened. I don't want to talk about it. Just appreciate the Americana of it all.

smokin'...

One of the benefits of having the new (er... gently used for the past twelve years) car back my possession - it does not have a thermometer. Perfect for the sweltering, absolutely stifling 106 degree days we've had in Kansas City recently. It's so dang hot I don't even WANT to know what the temperature is. Thank you little car for sparing me the knowledge.

Swanky black Volvo tended to torture me with such information.

go shorty, it's your... uh, nevermind...

Today was exciting. After years of wondering, tippy-toes, and stretching the truth on high school sports rosters, I finally learned my real height. The kind without tennis shoes or socks, or thin flimsy flip flops. I think a part of me I didn't even know was missing was been fulfilled. All 5'3" of me, happily feels more complete.

Thank you Nurse Faith for taking me back to the scale/measuring tape thingiemajig in the hallway to solve that mystery. I'm really grateful. Really a whole lot. And thanks also for wanting me to take pictures of your puppies. You pretty much made my day all the way around.

say aaaaaaahh...

Tomorrow starts (approximately) Step #39 on the life change checklist. It's my first day on the job after four years of human resources and my first new job since college. Soon I will be flossing and polishing teeth! (I'm not sure exactly how soon "soon" really means, but I will be, soon enough - volunteers welcome.) After talking to people about my new gig, many of them look at me and cock their head to the side as if asking, "uhh... say that again - you're doing... wha?"

I'm really thrilled at the opportunity of working with a friend in an office that is uplifting, busy, and very patient-oriented. The window view doesn't hurt either. ...Or the fact that I get to wear scrubs everyday. I'm thrilled at the opportunity to learn new things (so far here's what I've got: you have - typically - 32 teeth in your mouth. They are numbered starting with #1 at your top right molar and working around your mouth counter-clockwise to your bottom left molar, #32. I'm excited to be challenged and stretched with something totally foreign to me. About the only thing I know about teeth is they should be brushed twice a day and flossed daily. Don't tell my dentist - sometimes (often) I floss instead of brushing at night. A friend guessed it's because it's rewarding to me - to see the gunk squashed between teeth all day finally set free. She's probably right. I'm weird like that.

And so, new adventures await. Molars, incisors, gums, and cavities beware. I've got a whole lot of learning to do.

i've got sunshine...

Back in the day. Waaaaay back - think Eighth-Grade-twelve-years-ago-ack!-back - my Dad (and Mom) took a great big leap of faith. Dad was working at the gas company. To my youthful understanding, his job consisted of recording meter readings, fixing things that broke, and occasionally going on calls out of town to fix other things that broke. Now, Dad is insanely amazing at fixing broken things, but working there didn't bring him fulfillment. He was dissatisfied, longing, missing something. He and Mom prayed. And prayed and prayed. And eventually made the decision to leave his job, go back to school, and eventually start his own business in heating and air-conditioning. I can't tell this story without mentioning how truly incredible of a feat this was on my parents' end. Picture this: Mom, working at the hospital as an administrative assistant (equals great benefits, not-so-great pay), Dad, now out of work and paying for tuition. He temporarily moves to a different small town in Western Kansas and lives in the dorms on campus. Yep. Living in the dorms at age 39, Dad moved in with a 20-something roommate and began his college life. This also means our family now had a more measly income than it did before. And we seemed to manage okay. I don't remember being traumatized over much (okay, maybe I threw a few fits about not getting to have numerous pairs of jeans from the Buckle or being forced to buy my own Dr. Martens, but other than that... - I mean come ON Mom! I'm going to be in high school next year and in order to have any chance of being socially accepted because of super-artificial qualities like brand name clothing, expensive jeans and shoes are my only hope - DUH!). I actually was traumatized by one thing. Turkey. Momma made too much turkey for Thanksgiving (gobs of way too much turkey) that year and she loaded up ours and Dad's freezer full of turkey surprise leftover meals. We had turkey noodle soup, turkey casseroles, turkey enchiladas, turkey + anything else that's in the pantry is fair game meals. You name it, just switch out the typical protein of choice with... gobble gobble. Yes, I'm scarred. I just recently started eating turkey again. Thanksgiving has never been the same.

I don't know what it was really like for Mom and Dad during this year of Dad at college. I just know it had to be hard. Crazy, challenging, difficult, lonely. Dad came home every weekend. He drove two and a half hours one way, arrived home late Friday evenings, spent time with us, then headed back Sunday night. Every single weekend. He didn't even miss a single volleyball/basketball game I played. IN EIGHTH GRADE! Have you watched eighth graders play either of those sports lately? Sorry, I had to pause from typing to stifle a yawn. We played our best, but we were hardly super-star athletes. And Dad traveled to watch every game, rain or shine. Hello, unconditional love and support. I hope one day I'm able to understand that kind of dedication and sacrifice. I'm absolutely thankful for all the sacrifices Mom and Dad made throughout that year. What a doozy. Then, almost as quickly as he began, Dad graduated - top of his class! He moved back home, and he and Mom started the new adventure of owning their own business.

I share this with you in order to help you understand, maybe a little more fully, where I'm coming from. My parents and their life are one of my greatest inspirations. Not just because of what they have accomplished in building a business - that's not even the half of it. It's because of who they are as role models, teachers, risk-takers. They have allowed me to grow and be challenged. They make time to be together, and always make time for our family. They sacrifice - their time, their energy, their plans - in order to build stronger relationships, friendships and family. They put God first. And they allow us to dream. They understand money is not the important thing. Success is not the important thing. They even recognize security, in the traditional sense, is not the most important thing. Instead, being wise with what you've been given and living a life of fulfillment - surrounded by those who support you, love you, make time to be with you - is what matters. Finding your talents and treasures and sharing them with the world is important. Being in relationship is extremely important. Life is in those things.

And that, my friend, is why, after six years with an incredible company, an amazing brand and wonderful people to work with, it's time for me to say goodbye, and follow the call - the unexplainable pull - to find a life of fulfillment - in family, relationships, work, and play.

Thank you Mom and Dad for your sacrifices and love in showing us what's important in life. I am insanely grateful for your unending support of my crazy dreams. I want to be just like you when I grow up. Ummm... if I ever grow up.