In keeping with the fashion and wardrobe topic of late, I thought this Wednesday, I would cull through my “Dress Me Up” Pinterest board and see what things I’d like to put on my bod. Oh, and I recently read in one of my piles of papers that if you choose to keep it simple with a black and white palette when it comes to clothes, wear the white on the bottom instead of the black, otherwise, you could get mistaken for waitstaff at an upscale restaurant. However, if you must wear your black on the bottom as it minimizes and does al kinds of forgiving things to the lower half, add a pop of color or a statement pieces necklace to draw the eye up towards your lovely face. Hey, look at that that! I’m retaining information; now for the application! Stay tuned.
In my constant quest to write more, I’ve decided to challenge myself by implementing theme days. In the past, I’ve had “Mondays Message“, where I’ve selected a quote and waxed philosophical about it and how it applies to my life. Truth be told, when I first started this blog in 2007 (!), I started by using quotes to springboard a discussion. After a while, I stopped doing that because life provided enough fodder from me to chronicle and catalog. From time to time, I had revisited those beginning blog posts. There’s a propensity to stick out my arm and have you verify that I do indeed where my heart on my sleeve. I think that’s why I stopped. Sure, I’m happy to share things with you about myself, my kids, my Hubs (within reason), but those quotes started to feel really self-righteous. I mean, I wanted to pick something with some sustenance to it and found that I was grasping on how to draw a connection without sounding like a total blowhard. Sometimes, it’s best to just keep some air of mystery between us.
But, back to theme days (actually, that sounds kind of goofy like I’m doing “Hawaiian Day!” or “Pirate Day!”. Maybe I should say springboards). I’ve been doing pretty well with Recipe Friday, actually. It started out as a post entitled “What’s Cooking” in 2011 and I’ve been pretty faithful to it. In fact, I’ve been posting some of my creations on my instagram account. Some of my instagram followers have been asking if they can find the recipe on my blog. I’m loving the potential for cross marketing!
A friend of mine suggested I check out a blog entitled Simply Seleta, because the author reminded my friend of me. Evidently, Seleta has White Wednesdays where she posts images of white things. Think picket fences, lush meadows of white headed flowers, white colonial style homes with red doors and black shutters. I skimmed the last White Wednesdays and thought it would be nice to pick up another springboard for the roster. Monday Message, while good in theory, just doesn’t do it for me. And truly, aren’t Mondays bad enough without having to add another dollop of drudgery on top? *head slap* that’s exactly what the problem with Monday Message was! It felt like drudgery and as though I was lecturing to you on how to be better — like me ). I’m not a life coach and I don’t want to be.
In the midst of all of this, I’m working on creating a new web-page (with little to no luck, so if you’re good at web design or know someone who is, holla at me). I really want some good head shots for the homepage. I’ve got some ideas, but I need a photographer to help me out. Kendall and I can’t seem to get our act together, what with us both being attentive parents. My other friend Franklin, when we aren’t having food battles via instagram, is busy with his own family/work/life responsibilities, as well. I’m looking for someone who can either trade services with me or basically, gift me some pictures — all on my schedule of course. I mean, how else could this work? <-- That right there? That's sarcasm. The bottom-line is I'm hanging up all of forward progress on the fact that I don't have the exactly right headshot that I need for the homepage. Talk about procrastination. So, I decided to stop pussyfooting around and just do something. I give you, the at home, self portrait photo shoot.
|hgd photography ©2013|
It totally did not go the way I had anticipated. I set out to do some head-shots or beauty shots. Black and white, from the shoulders up, real tight in the face with minimal make-up and a curly ‘do. I got the black and white part down. As for the rest. . .I think I was possessed. You know how Beyonce (ugh, I cannot believe I’m going here) claims she has an alter ego names Sasha Fierce? Yeah, I kinda feel like that’s what happened. I let out my inner diva. She couldn’t be bothered to tell me her name, what with all the face she was giving the camera.
I’m Type A. I know that about myself and I embrace it whole heartedly. I love making plans. I like lists. I like nothing more than taking a piece of paper and filling it with the fine minutiae of what will suck up the minutes of my day. Even simple things that are part of our everyday routine, like “Drive the girls to school” make it on the list so that I can have the satisfaction of crossing it off when I’m done. It’s the little things in life, right? Well, that and new pair of shoes. . .ooooh, I’m going to add that to my list.
Anyway, finding some time to write and something to write about has been topping my list as of late. I haven’t been any busier or any more tired than normal. I just haven’t felt compelled to write. Or more likely, when I do have a minute to write, the great ideas I had slamming around in my head have disintegrated into “What am I going to have for lunch?” and “What happened to that ice cream I hid behind the frozen peas?” and stuff like that.
Sure, I have thoughts on Trayvon Martin, Samantha Brick, Sandra Fluke, placenta pills, red-shirting your kids, and the on-going SAHM vs. working mom vs. OAM debate. There’s a lot to discuss out there and I’d rather have a meaningful discussion about it with some friends over coffee than just put my two cents into the mix, step back and see what happens. A lot can get lost in the translation between my head, the keyboard, and whomever chooses to read what I’ve written.
So, I gravitate towards lighter fare.
Photographs and pictures that inspire me.
|I do believe in mermaids. I do, I do.|
Recipes that I want to try.
|Pie in a Jar|
Clothes that I’d like to have (and somewhere schmancy to wear them to).
|All dressed up with places to go.|
Crafts I’m (pretty sure) I can make.
|Where we met, married and live map|
Places I want to visit.
Books I’m reading.
|I don’t know if I’m impressed or depressed.|
At first, I was going to take this blank space of a post and write about how I’m already planning Co’s 5th birthday party. Yes, I have OAM tendencies, but I’m taking medication for that.
SN: My mom got on my case when I whipped out my folder of ideas and notes. “Her birthday is still in September, right?”
“And you do know that it’s April, right?”
After my first paragraph about list making and my internal monologue about “proper prior planning prevents piss poor performance”, my train of thought took a different course. And I just started writing just to write. I have come across several other bloggers giving tips on how to get started with blogging, or how to improve your blog. Sometimes, I want this blog to be a little more than it is. I want it to have substance (the word gravitas keeps flashing in my head). I go through periods where I’m ready to scrap it as my personal sounding board and really try to pinpoint some topics that I think are worth intellectually stimulating.
I want it to be something that people say, “Did you see what was on the One L today?” (of course, that would necessitate more writing, but I’m working on that). I want to have fully formed, thought-provoking opinions on topics that matter. BUT, I also just want to look at pretty things, eat good food, read books that have me thinking “Just one more page and then I’ll put it down”, and take pictures of my family and friends that really capture just who I am and what I’m about.
[ee-thos, ee-thohs, eth-os, -ohs] Show IPA
This blog is just an extension of that. This is what makes my blog my own. I don’t need to be like every other blogger out there. They’re already filling niches; why cram myself in? I’m going to stick with what I know. Just doing my own thing and crossing things off my list as I go.
When we broke the news to the girls that we were leaving Norfolk for Richmond, Morgan was particularly vocal in her reluctance to leave.
She listed all of the reasons she didn’t want to leave Norfolk, why Richmond wouldn’t be any fun, and all possible scenarios that would render her post-kindergarten summer the worst on record. Not easily swayed by the drama she puts forth, seeing as she does so on a regular basis, Craig and I heaped reason after reason why a move would in fact be a good thing.
She wasn’t buying it.
So Craig resorted the one, true
trick tool every parent calls upon at one point or another: bribery.
And it worked.
We told the girls that with a move to a new house comes a new room for them to decorate. Ever the skeptic, Morgan asked, “Decorate however we want?”
Within reason, we assured her, but certainly, think of the possibilities. Craig enumerated all the ways they could make their new room their own. He mentioned hanging up the Norfolk Mermaid poster we had framed, putting up canopy beds. Then he pulled out the big gun: a mermaid mural on the wall.
And of course, Morgan heard that and well, it was done deal. For days thereafter, “When are we going to Richmond and when are we getting the mural painted on the wall?” became her constant call.
As we boxed up the Norfolk house day after day, as the movers came and carted stuff onto the truck, she kept reminding Coever, “. . and when we get to Richmond, we’re going to get a mural of mermaids on the wall! I’m so excited!” She’d clench her hands together up under her chin and bounce on her toes in anticipation.
When we rolled up to the new digs, you can imagine what she said. When she and Coever raced up the stairs to their room, you can imagine what she said, immediately followed by, “Well, where is it?”
Thankfully, Craig had been in touch with several artists, trying to obtain the best one for the project. We decided that when the girls spent a week with his parents this summer, we’d get it done while they were gone and it would be ready to surprise them when they came home.
Which is exactly what we did.
This whole turn of events — wanting to see more mermaids, finding out about another mermaid — got me to thinking. What’ll happen if I say, “I really hope someone leaves a large bag of money (preferably twenties) on my front porch before we leave.”
If you need me, I’ll be sitting on the front porch.
The girls are on spring break this week and somehow, I haven’t been as pro-active as I need to be in keeping us occupied with activities. The fact is, I’m tye-red. Not tired, tye-red. My groove has been off since daylight savings and we sprung forward. Losing that hour has really knocked me off kilter. I’m out of orbit, out of sync, out of joint, and out to lunch. It wasn’t that I didn’t know that spring break was coming. It just caught me off guard, like when you think you’ve got a few sheets left on the roll and really, you don’t have a square to spare.
I also decided to go for two that were affixed to the sides of buildings. We’ve driven past them time and again, and there really wasn’t a valid reason not to include them on our tour. They’re just up really high. True, there are two others that we missed (one on the Scope marquee and one precariously close to the Waterside Overpass). I didn’t think investing in ropes, anchors and carabiners for a few frames was worth it.
This one, Techno Maid, I had spied through an office window over the years as I drove through town. I had never seen anyone go in or out of the building. I didn’t know what was going on in there, but I thought, “The answer if no, if you don’t ask.” I’d go in, state my case, pushing the girls forward with their big pleading eyes and we’d get our shot. I hadn’t expected to need a swipe card to get in the building. Luckily, someone had propped the door. Still, it wasn’t easy. The elevator worked by swipe card. The stairwells worked by swipe card (SN: isn’t that a fire hazard? What if there’s a fire and you can’t use the elevator? What if the power goes out? You’re stuck). Anyway, a few employees were out smoking some butts and were kind enough to let us hitch up to the second floor.