Baby Bump

I love babies, the smell, the feet, the hands, the little dimples...

I think babies are the only things on earth that can own some major rolls, I know I can't. It's good to have a clear self-image.

So - to continue my story, I have a very, very dear friend who unfortunately lives about 6 hours away from me. Last year, I went on a spur of the moment trip to Ireland to photograph her wedding. By spur of the moment, I mean I had two weeks notice. It was awesome.

Bethany and Luke got married at Waterford Castle which is about two hours outside of Dublin, we stayed in the castle the night before the wedding which was totally surreal.

Then we drove around the Irish countryside and walked on beaches and visited pubs and listened to street musicians, and then we all rode around on magical unicorns. Joking, obviously - but we might as well have, it really wouldn't have been a stretch.

 Here are some pictures of their wedding, last September. 

She's pretty gorgeous. 

I was standing in my bathroom getting ready for work when Bethany texted me to let me know she was having a little one. I think I dropped my phone four times before I could actually calm down enough to answer her. 

This child is going to be ridiculously precious. 

Naturally I wanted to take some maternity pictures for her but despite all of my best efforts I couldn't make it down to see her until yesterday.

I think we barely scraped by because August 23rd happened to be her official due date.

 I'm so, so glad it worked out to do this shoot... 

Get a load of the cuteness

Absolutely precious. Can't wait to meet that little blessing... 

I'm off to find an infant to cuddle, 

Rachael 

Closet Talks & Crunchy Toes

Here's an interesting fact. Putting clothes together into outfits sometimes wigs me out.

Sometimes I wander into my closet and bump into shoes and belts and forgotten skirts (I don't do well with skirts) and I draw a blank. 

Sometimes I feel like outfits purposefully hide from me.

I'm no moron... I know what's up. 

Anyway, the dilemma reached the point of being ridiculous a few weeks ago so I decided to do something I should have done a long time ago.

I pulled out every shirt, skirt, jean and ballet flat I own. I then proceeded to mix, match, pair, reevaluate and take picture after picture after picture of the outfits I pieced together in a full length mirror. I then loaded all of those pictures into a file on my computer, so I have somewhere to turn when I walk into my closet and feel like I'm looking into a black abyss. 

Doing this has helped me so much. It took a good 4 hours all said and done, but if you take into consideration the amount of time wasted floundering around in your closet for something that might "work" it is well worth the investment.

I just finished doing this with my sister a few days ago and it was a really fun way to spend an afternoon - good company and multiple opinions on whether stuff is cute or not always helpful.

Also, Pinterest. Definitely Pinterest. 

It helps to look up stuff that you already have in your closet instead of just pinning fantasy items, lots of nifty ideas. 

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Totally shifting gears here...

I buy tennis shoes new, it's not a rule of mine necessarily...it just seems like if you're planning on using them you deserve to own a brand new pair of tennis shoes, call it motivation to earn 'em.

That being said, I have had years, and years and years of bad tennis shoes experiences. Crunched toes, smooshed feet, blisters and the ever present obvious fact that tennis shoes just aren't that cute. Also I operate about like a two year old when it comes to keeping shoes clean. White tennis shoes just don't work well for me, at all. 

So I found these. Ignore the fact that they look sort of huge...I have substantially large feet. Anyway, white tennis shoe problem? Solved. Crunched toes? Not anymore. Blisters? Not happening. 

Unfortunately new shoes don't fix the fact that I'm a crummy runner. They did however, serve as a great catalyst for a bonding experience for Brad and I. He apparently didn't realize until yesterday after prolonged periods of time spent staring at my twiggy little ankles that they are severely pronated, bless him. He loves me anyway. 

I like this aspect too...

Not bad, huh? 

xoxo,

Rae 

  

Christmas Time is...Not That Near.

I like Christmas.

I like traditions.

I like the fact that every single person invited to a Christmas party feels compelled to bring homemade fudge.

I don't like what that fudge does to my waistline. Stupid sugar and butter. Darn you.

I like Zebra Cakes dolled up to look like Christmas trees. I'm a 10 on the classy scale.

I can't eat those anymore due to a tragic allergy to wheat I seem to have developed, but they weren't great for my waistline either.

I like handmade ornaments and the way Dean Martin croons Silent Night.

I even thoroughly enjoy the process of botching up our yearly gingerbread house endeavors.

On that note... remember Leah? One year, all six of us kids worked for hours on a gingerbread mansion - pretty much any kind of candy you can think of was painstakingly plastered to the walls and roof of that house. The whole creation was a gorgeous mass of swooping swirling sugar and Christmas.

And that kid ate it.

I kid you not. Our gingerbread house slowly disappeared over the course of a week, one bite at a time.

At first it was a mystery, but finally we caught the little munchkin at it. She waited until everyone had gone to bed and then toddled into the kitchen and to the top of a stool to load up on peppermints, icing and twizzlers.  I can't prove anything but I'm pretty sure she stockpiled whatever part of her harvest couldn't stomach at the time in a forgotten diaper bag. Again, I can't prove it...it's a gut instinct. I'm also fairly certain Olivia was a behind the scenes accomplice.

I mean...look at those two. Guilty is written all over their faces. 

Anyway, I digress. There have already been conversations in my family, not many, but the beginnings of bubbling discussions regarding Christmas gatherings, who is claiming what date for parties, who is heading up gift exchanges, you know the drill, and it's August. I want so badly to just enjoy the impending holidays, from the crisp in the air and the celebratory buzz that begins in October to the cozy internal warmth December ushers in.

But that's where I start to lose focus.

I inevitably get so caught up in planning how to have a good time in three months, that I forget to enjoy right now. That tendency to forget to be thankful for today? That is the number one way I create regrets. I forfeit the blessing I've been given in having today by focusing on things far away.

So here are the facts...

It's the 21st of August. The mornings are cool, the evenings are cool, the afternoons are hot. Today the sky was the most gorgeous shade of deep summer blue I've seen in a long, long time. It is the perfect weather for grabbing a quilt, a book and if possible an inviting field.

If you figure out how to literally grab a field, please let me know how that goes.

I'm making conscious efforts to seize the day, and by that I mean enjoy where I am. Soak up today and appreciate it for what it is. Let the planners plan, I'm sure I'll get sucked in and become a key participant at some point, but for now I am enjoying August.

Trust me, I'll get my Christmas on when the time is right.

My poor husband. 

I'm out,

Rae 

  

Sisters

This is my sister.

For the sake of being fair...

here she is again.

 I have to be honest though... the first picture is a better representation of my ding-bat, sweet lovely sister Sarah. 

Guess what? 

I got more. This, too - is my sister. 

We have a tradition that involves birthdays and very odd hats. More on that on a later date. Maybe. 

Again, it's necessary to be diplomatic...

This is Olivia. She's on the right. 

She also answers to Sweetums, Peanut and, like most of us - Ding-bat. We all answer to that one. 

Hey, want to know something cool? 

I'm not done. 

There's more....

Get a load of that eyebrow. 

Here she is again...

This is Leah. Leah is a doll-baby. 

I can't tell you enough how thankful I am for my sweet, crazy, loving sisters. 

They are precious. 

They're my friends and my comrades.

They take silly to a whole new level, reference the above images...

I would say they're graceful but Sarah is recovering from a torn ACL because she decided to try ball like the Harlem Globetrotters, Olivia somehow coerced a folding chair into collapsing onto her finger which put her and her mangled hand in the hospital and I'm pretty sure if all of the members of my family got a nickel for every time Leah stepped on our feet we would be sittin' pretty within a 36 hour span. 

 Loving? Yes. Graceful? Not a quality we can claim. 

The only black eye I've ever had was self-inflicted. I walked into a pile of concrete reinforcement bars. 

My sisters giggle with me and cry with me. 

 I'm thankful for my sisters.

Random fact, I changed the diapers of the last two. Thankfully I've been spared the experience of changing my older sisters diaper.

So far. 

 She may get old and senile and require some attention one day, but I'm counting on being too far gone to be of any use.  Lord willing. 

There are two brothers smooshed between all this estrogen, they'll get some attention later, but for now - can I get an amen for the blessing of sisters? 

- Rae 

Hot Yoga

Don't run away. 

I can't say my first impression of the phrase left me feeling entirely comfortable either. 

My aunt called me the other day and asked if I was up for a spur of the moment hot yoga class. Once she explained that what I was signing up for was yoga in a sauna, I was in.  

Because what better place is there to do vinyasas for an hour and fifteen minutes? 

So off I went to practice wrapping my legs around my neck while maintaining a relaxed disposition. 

Here are the things I learned at yoga class:

1. My routine sleeping position happens to double as a position in yoga. Therefore, I do yoga for hours on end. Obviously that means I'm super fit. 

2. Yoga works better with either a buzz cut or a ponytail. This short hair + sauna + downward facing dog does not equal yoga-chic. It equals hot mess. 

3.  A continuation of point #2...full length mirrors in a yoga classroom? Seeing my hair was enough to throw off my "stillness within" and that coupled with how red my face was made balance postures difficult. 

In light of my yoga experience, I decided to share a slightly embarrassing motivation I've started to use for exercising and clean eating. 

I get a dollar for every day I eat clean and stick to my exercise regime, I'm basically like one of Pavlov's dogs.

I'd be lying though, if I said that slowly filling up that mason jar with a dollar a day didn't fuel my desire to stick with what I started - and isn't that one of the hardest things to maintain? 

The initial get-up and go isn't what is so difficult for me, it's the stick to it  aspect that gets me every single time. 

So, yes. I plop down into my yoga-esque sleeping position and stick a $1.00 in the tip jar that lives on my nightstand every single night except for once a week when I have a cheat meal, and then I think about all the groovy crafts and pieces of furniture and art projects and Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, and chocolate milkshakes, and super-size french fries those dollars will buy. 

Just kidding. 

I actually start thinking about skinny jeans which reminds me of those pajama jeans they were selling on TV last year which then makes me think of elastic waist bands which promptly puts me to sleep.  

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Shift of focus...

I have a surprise. It's my new favorite toy. 

It still works without a hitch and it cost me under $10.00

Here's a peek...

It's a vintage radio cabinet and it is absolutely awesome. It also weighs half a ton which makes me wonder if I may be smuggling around stolen bricks for someone instead of two massive speakers built into a cabinet.

More to come on that later... 

Lastly - I'm tying up the loose ends on my wing-back chair redo part two and will have it up and running early next week. 

xoxo,

Rachael 

  

Weekend Photos

I was so excited when Ally over at Fever Thrift* asked if I'd be willing to do a guest post! Check out her blog...

Fever Thrift*

<The weekend in pictures>

Happy guy...for real. 

Weekend work project...

I love...Anthropologie

Sweet wishes on this Monday... 

xoxo

Still

Sometimes it's good to be still.

I'm reminded of that in this heat, lift a finger and you'll be drenched. Still, equals dry. Still, equals cool...ish. If you want to stay clean and avoid the constant sensation of sweat dripping down your back, off your nose, and puddling at your feet, it is necessary to live in a swimming pool.

Oh wait...those are warm too.

You could maybe try hanging out in a hospital waiting room since those always seem to be verging on sub-zero temperatures.

In more ways than avoiding needless perspiration, being still is good.

I move a lot, I get caught up in doing and lose track of the value of being still.

Sometimes it's good to be reminded.  

When I'm still, I think. When I'm still, I connect with people instead of just checking necessary interactions off my list. When I'm still, I can create, and I love to create.

This week has been slow. Hot. Still.

It has involved a lot of this...

Some apple picking with my Mom and sisters...

I broke my sunglasses, damaged by ego and banged up my already scarred legs trying to shake apples out of a craggy old tree,  it was an adventure.

 We got lucky and found two loaded pear trees as well... 

I chose not to venture into those branches after my apple tree experience. 

I hope you have a still, chill weekend,

 have a smoothie for me.  

Rae 

Madame Blueberry & Listlessness

We've all done it. You're cruising along, everything's groovy and it hits you like a...I can't think of 

anything. It just hits you, ok? You get it into your head that it's a fantastic idea to go to the store. Because, 

why not? It's therapeutic, you get to look at cute junk, you might run into someone you know...Just kidding 

about that last one. I have nightmares about running into people I know at the store. I had a bad experience. True story.

Edit: Okay as I was kindly reminded, shopping is not therapeutic for everyone...shoot, shopping is rarely therapeutic for me, what's therapeutic is finding what I was looking for. I would have to be in a mood to feel like describing shopping as exclusively a "therapeutic" pastime...like, a really rich mood or something. Anyway - my point is that everyone has a place. Whether it's a book store, clothing store, fabric store, fireworks store or an extremely obscure sci-fi paraphernalia online store, there's a soft spot for everyone that makes purchasing something, whatever that may be, enticing. So...back to shopping... .>>>

Another perk of random shopping is that there's a slight possibility you might stumble across something you've been wanting, or maybe you'll find something you didn't know you wanted yet. Spoiler: That last one can be a problem child. 

Any other Veggie Tales viewers out there? I grew up with 4 younger siblings so I could maybe blame it on

them, but truthfully we were all passionate about the singing produce with good values. Madame Blueberry

was one of those stories that just gets to you. She goes to Stuff Mart and buys and buys and buys, this is

after an extreme emotional breakdown over her lack of stuff. In the end she destroys her own home by

bringing in too many things she never even needed.

Moral of the story: Life as a blueberry isn't fun. No, well I mean, yes - just think of Violet Beauregard...

Violet, you're turning VIOLET, Violet! But, no.

 Ok actually in the case of Madame Blueberry the moral is that materialism isn't the road to happiness and that we should be grateful for what we have, but that's sort of a given. My point is that it's helpful to have an idea of what you're looking for and what you need. 

When I just stroll through a store (which I sometimes do, it isn't intrinsically evil) without an idea of what I'm looking for or without a list of things I need, it's not out of the ordinary for me to come home with an odd conglomeration of stuff that does nothing more than contribute to my husband's opinion that I am a weirdo. That's his story and he's sticking to it. 

It's a good idea to have a list. 

It can be a list with weird stuff on it, then it's organized weirdness instead of stream of consciousness weirdness which is what can start happening when you just shop without direction. 

Application: I'm excited about fall. Really excited, it's my favorite time of year and those are my favorite clothes to wear. Leggings, boots, sweaters, scarves, what I'm describing here is what fall is supposed to require not the 80 degree fall weather we can expect. Bless our hearts. We try. 

I just finished writing a list of probably 20 things I could use this fall/winter season. I most likely won't get everything on the list, probably not even close. But now when I go shopping I have a reference point pertaining to what I need. 

This isn't a hard fast rule, but it's certainly helpful if you enjoy shopping. Just jot down stuff you want or are looking for so when the urge hits you, you can shop with confidence and not destroy your home with loads of weird stuff you don't need like Madame Blueberry did. It could happen, have you seen Hoarders? What Not to Wear? Okay then. 

5 things on my list right now: 

Gray cardigan

Lace up black or charcoal boots 

Red skinny jeans 

Ankle boots 

Long sweaters to pair with leggings (This counts as one item, don't think about it). 

Love,

The Weirdo.   

   

Risks & Lemonade

Guys,

 it's time to be real.

 I think it's imperative to take risks in life, see below. 

I'm also terrified of heights. No, really. I'm terrified. This photo proves nothing but insanity. 

I'm preparing to get all philosophical today due in large part to the fact that I had a great hands on object lesson this weekend. Some background... my husband isn't afraid of much, as in...I routinely grill him with questions like "Would you be afraid if you were blind, and someone put you in a room full of silent creeping spiders that could kill you...cause Brad, you can't see them coming....scary, right?" or "Brad...would you be scared of going through an obstacle course where they beat you with bee stingers if you didn't run fast enough?"  Apparently not. Obviously, Brad has a plethora of things he would prefer to avoid, but he's not characterized as being fearful. This is still totally foreign to me, after knowing him since I was 9. It continues to take a bit of mind bending for me to comprehend the idea of not being fearful.  

I'm scared of more things than I can count. To keep it concise, I'll just stick with risks. I'm afraid of risks. Jumping out of a plane at 14,000 is a little different than discussing the hypothetical risks involved in blind spider dodging but a risk is a risk, and I'm scared of all of them.

Story time: Sunday afternoon, Brad and I went kayaking... it had been a while and we couldn't wait to get back in the water. So, in we went - helmets, paddles, and life jackets (mine was too big so I felt a lot like Randy from A Christmas Story floating down the river). The first few rapids were great, in fact the whole river was great up until the very end. Right before the take out we went over the biggest rapid and then decided to play there a bit longer, taking the kayaks back through and repeating the falls a few times. The third or fourth time down, wait for it.... my kayak flipped (huge surprise, y'know since I was only going over rapids in a river, right). I'd love to tell you that I was super cool about it and just flipped that sucker back over, but, no. I freaked. I threw my paddle, I gulped water, I watched rocks and creepy fish swirl by my head and freaked a little more...(Note: not having a paddle makes flipping upright a bit harder... so as tempting as it might be, don't throw it like a javelin in a panic when you start to go over like I did. You're welcome, this moment brought to you by Kayaking Ineptitude Anonymous) Eventually my kayak skirt pulled of and I bobbed to the top, thanks to my Randy attire. I took deep breaths and pulled my flooded kayak off to the side of the river where I sat and tried to calm down. There's a point to this besides me being traumatized, promise. 

     It made me think about risks, I  mean real risks. Not hypothetical silly ones, or even risks involving a kayak accident...I mean taking chances on things and then being willing to learn from the results instead of reacting out of fear and refusing to try again, refusing to stretch yourself more. Oftentimes, taking a chance on something doesn't work out exactly how I imaged it. It doesn't turn out exactly how I wanted it to more often than not, but every single time - I have the opportunity to learn a lesson, and that's life. It's a lemons vs. lemonade situation, you either take the results of a few risks and choose to limit yourself and reduce your own potential by being afraid, or you make some kick-butt lemonade and take away a good lesson. The point here isn't to kayak a class 5 rapid 10 times and drown yourself for good measure. Just be open to trying something new and if it doesn't go as planned, learn from it. It'll be fun. :) 

On a less personal note, arm chair tutorial coming up later this week! 

 - Rae