Prelude: Mark & Meghan

"In a soul mate, we find not company but a completed solitude."

Robert Brault

Oh, Yee of Little Faith

Something recently struck me.. A bolt of lightning.  Haha, pun.. not.  so.  funny.  Anyways, I'm a little, er, negative.  At least, compared to my husband who is 95% of the time a ray of sunshine and optimism (the other 5% he's comparable to the Cookie Monster).  Lately, we've been re-evaluating our dreams vs. our real lives.  Conclusion: our ideals and game plans are changing - dramatically.  It's sort of, kind of terrifying.  But I'm ecstatic.  I really, deeply feel that things will be great.  Even if they are the suck for a little while.

When I told these thoughts to Travis, he raised his right brow as he does when he's pretending to be Horatio Caine from CSI.  "You are optimistic?  How can this be?" he asked.  I laughed.  And then, I pondered.  He's bang on, actually.  I worry often.  I usually am too scared to be optimistic.  Then, epiphany - well, maybe epiphany is too bold of a word.  Let's go with 'big thought.'  When you think positively, positive things will surround you.. or at least you're so positive you think they will.  So even if you're just crazy and things are actually crap, being positive is sort of a win-win.

The thought was planted and an idea grew (ahh, Inception!  Ha.. okay well, my husband thinks I'm funny).. If I don't allow myself to worry, I am conquering fear, negativity.  My mind raced and I realized that we naturally look for discontentment.  There's always a thought that something is not as good as it could be, something is always the matter in some aspect of our lives.  These negative thoughts fester and rattle us and the way we live our lives.  Instead, if we believe that what's happening or what's going to happen, is the best thing for us, then it will be. 

I guess that's faith.  I always put faith in hand with religion but I think it's also for those of us that aren't 'religious' per say.  Faith is optimisim, positivity, blocking out fear and letting go of discontentment.

Woo.  That's a lotta brain power for one evening.

The pillow calls.
xo-

PS.  As I approach the first year anniversary of jumping into photography, I thought I would post an image from my first ever shoot.  There are a million technical things that I see wrong with the shot now, but that's okay because ultimately, I still love it.  And Caitlin is smokin.  Rawr.

PPS.  Did ya notice eh?  Eh?  Optimism, baby.   ;)

The Sitters

"What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life?

To be with each other in silent, unspeakable memories, that is family."

-George Eliot

I love my family dearly.  I know everyone (well, most everyone) loves their family but I feel like I do in a way that can't quite be measured or truly expressed.  And I guess that's just what love is.  We, like most, have been through our share of hardships.  But even when the weight of the world is on us, even when a member is weak and crumbling, we are undeniably strong together in our love.

Stacey has known my family for, well, as long as I have.  When my brothers and I were just babies, teenaged Stacey and her brother Mike would come over to help my mom with us when my dad was working crazy shifts as a police officer.  I remember tickle sessions with the Sitters and how my brothers and I would get so excited for playtime with them (gosh, this remembering is making me feel old..).

Stacey is now a beautiful woman in every sense with a family of her own.  Jocelynn is 16, astoundingly gorgeous, patient and tender as an older sister.  Kallie is 19 months, adorable and well, hilarious.  She didn't much take to me or the lens chasing her around, it was my lovely assistant/hot husband that she took to.  ;)  Seriously, she followed him everywhere magnetically and although it was a bit challenging trying to keep Travis out of the shots, it was just so freaking funny!

Anyways, take a look at these 3 good looking Sitter girls, an empowered family filled to the brim with love.

The Last Popsicle

[With delicious blue popsicle in hand, T walks into the office, where A is sitting doing boringboringofficeworkblaaah.]


A: You have a popsicle?!!?! You’ve been holding out! Gimme!

T: No, no – wait, wait. I want you to know that I was looking around in the freezer and found this popsicle buried under a bunch of fruit. I admit, I did think about hiding it for myself but I-

A: You wang!

T: BUT!.. I wanted to be a good husband so I am giving it to you. See, I am awesome. Remember that.

[A grabs popsicle.]

A: Nomnomnom.

[T folds arms, watches devourment of said popsicle.]

A: Nomnomnom.

[T continues to watch. Finally, rolls eyes and walks away.]

A: [with popsicle stuffed in mouth] Thrank you, Schweetie! Nomnomnom.

Blubbers and the Stacks of Pennies

As much as I want to be strong, I'm not.  I'm dependant, sensitive, emotional and well, just plain soft and squishy on the inside (and a little on the outside too but we won't go there).  My bottom lip quivers every single time I watch Titanic, my eyes get warm with tears at the beginning of every SPCA and World Vision commerical, I full out bawl when I am lonely.  Along with being an annoying mess of feelings, I am also a huge dreamer.  Recently these two sides of me met and let's just say.. call ICBC cos we have a crash collision, folks!  Hahaha.. I'm lame, I know..

Ya see, when my mind goes a million miles an hour, my emotions just can't keep up.  I want soo much out of life that I can't help but wonder, 'How can I do it all and be it all?'  My wonder turns to frustration (about time, aging, money) then worry and then my old friend, panic sets in.  And then, sitting at the kitchen table right before dinner.. I cry.  Bringeth forth my nickname of Blubbers.

Luckily, Blubbers has Travis.  As the tears stream down my face, Trav walks across the kitchen, picks up our yellow, smiley face change mug and dumps out a bunch of coins.  'Is he seriously going to Tim Horton's right now?!'  I think to myself.   He starts picking through and strategically piling the pennies onto the table in front of me.  

"Ash, look at me," Trav says.  With my head in my hands, I shake my head.  "Look at me," he repeats.  Being the brat that I am, I look at his arm.  He knows this game.  "My eyes."  Crying less now, I smirk and look up at his sunflower eyes.

"Ash, you can't do it all.  Not at once anyways."  He nods towards the pennies, "Let's say you have three stacks of pennies and to feel complete, you must remove the stacks.  But you can't just plow the pennies over.  You can only pick one penny off one stack at a time."  He demonstrates by carefully lifting the top penny from it's wavering pile.  "Some pennies might be heavier and take longer to lift than others.  But sometimes by picking certain pennies, it will lead to removing others quicker."  I watch as one by one he places each penny back into the mug.  "Remember, once the stacks of pennies are gone, you'll have nothing left so it's okay if it takes awhile, even a lifetime."

He's right.  And he's right for me.  Travis is the only one that can handle my soul perfectly.  With just the right about of delicate touch, strong affirmation and a dash of wisdom, he has succeeded in completely stopping the tears.  I love that boy. 

My Monkey Baby

I call her my monkey baby.  Because well, she is.

Whether it was as a laughing baby, a little blonde hooligan or a dramatic teenaged girl, I've always been a part of a pack of dogs.  Really.  (Hahaha I just realized that I sound very Alan-esque with my 'wolf pack.'  At least I don't have his beard.  Or his beer belly.  Yet.)  After living 20 years surrounded by a family of rottweilers, I knew that my first place wouldn't be home if there were no bits of fur floating around or clunking paws following me from room to room.  Needless to say, I've become a mama to some pretty great doggy children.

And by great, I mean.. HILARIOUS.

Seriously, if you have never had the pleasure of a dog in your life, you are missing out on more than snuggly cuddle seshes and dancing around, howling.  You are missing the best laughter you will ever have.

Now, as I mentioned, Soda is my monkey baby.  She even wears a little graphic hoodie of a cartoon monkey aptly labeled "Monkey" in big red letters just to prove it.  You need more proof, you say?

...I was so excited to see him.  A whole evening together, just the two of us.  We promised not to talk about work or our chaotic schedules or all the negativity in the world.  Instead we kissed.  Then we lied down and kissed some more.  But then a familiar little paw and a sharp set of nails swatted at my arm.  I tried to ignore it, but the swatting for attention persisted.  Mid-kiss, I opened my eyes to my little dog towering right over our faces.  She intently leaned in, her big round eyes gazed into ours.  Travis laughed, "She's taking lessons."  He pointed to the floor, "Soda, off."  She jumped.  "Now, where were we?"

Smack.  Slurp.  Lick.  Smack.  Pucker.  Drool. 

No, it wasn't us.  We looked over the side of the bed, Soda now stood over Slurpee, her little face inside his big mouth, licking.  140lb Slurpee tried to pull his head away but 20lb Soda wouldn't take no for an answer.  She very seriously pinned his head down with her small paws and continued to slip him the tongue.  He grunted and growled, in a plea to be released from her grasp.. but the make out terror went on for several more minutes.

Yes, we watched.  And we laughed until tears rolled down our faces and our tummies ached.  What a monkey, I tell ya.

Jen 2

O Nature, I do not aspire
To be the highest in thy choir,

To be a meteor in thy sky,

Or comet that may range on high;

Only a zephyr that may blow

Among the reeds by the river low;

Give me thy most privy place

Where to run my airy race.

In some withdrawn, unpublic mead

Let me sigh upon a reed,

Or in the woods, with leafy din,

Whisper the still evening in:

Some still work give me to do,

Only be it near to you.

For I'd rather be thy child

And pupil in the forest wild,

Than be the king of men elsewhere,

And most sovereign slave of care;

To have one moment of thy dawn,

Than share the city's year forlorn.

-Henry David Thoreau