the time has come, the walrus said..

So, I think it might be time to lay this blog to rest. I recently started a new blog found here: domakesaythink. It is supposed to be a place to blog solely about my crafting ventures but I think instead of making it just crafting I'm going to merge it with this blog and make it a little of both. Keeping up with one blog is hard enough, much less TWO! Anyway, if you are a reader here (if I even have any left!) please follow me to domakesaythink and follow that blog instead. And I promise to update a bit more often. Maybe. :)

Turns out the beach in January isn't such a good idea. Unless you are coming from negative degree weather like most of the tourists who were there. As for my thin Florida blood, 61 degrees is about 10 degrees too cold for a bathing suit. Maren had fun, though. Isn't that what really matters?

i'll be a mama, i'll have a daughter

My sweet Maren. How do I love her? Let me count the ways!


I love her long, long lashes. (I also envy them.)



I love her chubby little cheeks.



I love the curls at the nape of her neck.



I love her tiny little seashell ears.





I love her fat little fingers.




I love every single one of her rolls.



I love her furrowed brow.




I love her pretty face.



And her bright smile.



Moses loves her, too.



She loves him back.



I'm a happy mama.

newsies

I've created a blog devoted to crafting, or at least my attempts at it. Check it, yo!

PRINTS!

I'm selling a few prints of my photos to help raise money for my friend Carly's hospital bills. She was involved in an awful four-wheeling accident on August 10th and will likely need medical care for the next year or so, if not longer. Click the picture above to check out my shop! All proceeds for directly to Carly and her family. To find out more about her story and updates on her progress click here.

a little bit, sometimes

I was thinking about how funny (see: depressing) it is that when I received my first cell phone at the tender age of 18 I absolutely hated it. Wanted nothing to do with it. The idea of anyone calling me at anytime wherever I was appalled me and it was with much chagrin that I carried it with me, at my mother's insistence. Now, 7 years (and many cell phones) later, I feel like I'm missing something if I walk into another room without holding it. What if someone texts me? What if I miss a call? These thoughts go through my head now. Weird how that works. I love and hate my cell phone, both for the wonderful convenience of it and my utter dependence. One of my favorite things about it, though, is the pictures I can snap with it:





But that in itself bums me out because regardless of what great candid moments I am able to capture they are still just low-quality cell phone pictures. Technology is a double-edged sword.

I've noticed this about myself lately: my growing discontent is due in large part to my internet use. Everyday I browse the blogs, websites and Facebook profiles of people I know and don't know, looking at the pictures of the places they go, the things they have and the things they do and I am, on a daily basis, struck with how boring my life seems in comparison. I hate that I feel I need to display a seemingly interesting life on the internet for the world to see in order to validate my existence. I toyed with the idea of taking a hiatus from computers entirely but then I realized it wasn't my use of the internet that needed to change, per say, but my attitude. I have a lot to be thankful for and I know this is true. I don't take it for granted (most of the time.) But there is a large part of me that remains unhappy with my humdrum day to day and this is the part of me that needs adjusting. Majorly. I've always wanted to do and see a million things at the same time. I'm trying to get used to the idea that even though I don't think it's fair we only get this one life to live, I am where I am for a reason. God has me here, at home, with my baby. There is a lot I could be doing with my time that I don't and that is no one's fault but my own. I might not be out everyday taking amazing pictures of breathtaking scenery, hopping on trains and traveling across country, I might not be the most prolific seamstress or knitter or gardener or painter or cook. I might not even have anything worthy of blogging about here, on the web, for everyone to see and be interested in. But this is my life and what I make of it is ultimately up to me.

I have a feeling once this suppressive summer heat lets up (if ever) I will feel a bit more inspired, less lethargic and boring. In the meantime I think I'm going to start a journal of gratitude and get my head and heart in the right place.

as hot as it was you ought to thank me

We had a yard cat. It was like a yard dog, only it was a cat that couldn't come in our house or any house, just roamed the sandspur yard, all hot day and all hot night, looking for a dark spot in the world that might be cool, like dark meant cool, but it never did, not even under the car, or under the chinaberry tree, or under the house by the dripping faucet, or under the cement steps that led up to the porch. Not even the nights with the icy-looking stars sprinkled overhead were cool, because cool was only a thing we dreamed, all of us, something we heard about once or read about someplace and decided to believe in. It was such a fine thing to believe. Better than heaven. Like standing in the open refrigerator door, feeling that one second of crisp air until the kitchen heat got it, until Mother yelled, "Close that door. You're letting all the cold out."
That kind of believing.

-Nanci Kincaid