An Intuitive Photo-Story: The Star-Spangled Western Girl

Sometimes when I get an idea for a photo shoot of my daughter, the idea just will not leave me alone.

And I love it.

It’s a good feeling. A motivating feeling. I welcome these ideas when they come. They are a happy distraction to any of the more mundane, necessary, or regular tasks in a given day. And I’ve learned I must make time for these sparks. They are gifts. Gifts I must give in to.

I know I can count on these seedlings to show up for me every now and then and I look forward to them. I love them, in fact. It’s like God blesses me with an inkling as though pixie dust is sprinkled on me and I feel as though I could fly with the adrenaline rushes as I internally ponder and plan at the same time as I wait and see what steps to take next for this idea to actually come together to a finished thing. It puts a pep in my step as my hamster-wheel brain churns. I’ll be on the lookout for anything that will bring the idea more and more together until it just feels ready.

I typically procrastinate on things, but for some reason, this particular sort of project is easy for me to get into. I know I have a time limit because typically the ideas surround my daughter who will only be the age she is at the time for that little bit longer. The time limit is natural and not enforced by anything other than time willing and my own stipulations. Before I know it, she will grow another quarter inch, have longer or shorter hair, less baby teeth and more permanent teeth, outgrow the current size clothes and shoes. So, I know I must act fast—while the boots fit! This particular season of her life will flit on by and I have a strong urge to capture it. If I do not act, I know I will be sorry. I take it as my responsibility. One that only pays on emotional returns and years (and possibly tears) of looking back.

And it means I’ll get to play. We get to play together—while she still loves to play (which I hope is still a long while). The very idea of her outgrowing play wrings my heart.

Play always. Keep the wonder.

This sort of playful project is one that I take quite seriously only for the value it has for me. (Although, I know that one day she’ll appreciate the images, too.) There’s always a balance—I need elements of play and creativity mixed with a little bit of purposefulness.

So, I must nurture the little seed of an idea. I’ve learned over time to trust that the seed will grow. My idea will work out. It will grow to a final beautiful project that feels right and “meant to be”. And that’s just the best!

I know, for example, every year I’ll want to do a Fourth of July shoot, but I might not know all the details right away. I might keep that little seed of an idea in my head based on one article of clothing. My mom surprised us with a sweet little ruffle denim jumper when she was but five years old and that was the catalyst. I remembered my daughter previously got a little cowgirl hat from a birthday party as a party favor that would work well with it. I later wandered into my favorite kids’ resale shop another day and found the most adorable pair of cowgirl boots exactly my daughter’s size! Then I came across a second-hand layered red-white-and-blue skirt scattered with stars and stripes that felt just right and she already had a little white top to go with the ensemble. Plus, we still owned two glittery star clips since she was a toddler. And my brother-in-law’s 1962 Chevrolet truck was parked under a tree at my parents’ property, an idyllic place to make a photograph. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any more adorable, my parents have a little shed in their yard with a sign that read, “Fresh Flowers” that I noticed mid-photo shoot. We just had to get a bouquet of actual flowers. This was turning into two very sweet and very fun thematic shoots!

Yes, please, and thank you! Everything felt aligned.

My daughter would never be this height again nor fit in these clothes again, have this length of hair again, and who knew how long those baby teeth would hang in there. I feel the need to document it all.

My heart was giddy as I gathered the necessary items for these themed photoshoots for this time and place.

This creative process is crucial to my well-being. It’s like therapy. Creation therapy!

Once she was dressed, I just let her explore and just tried to make her look into my cyclops lens occasionally as I snapped away.

So, creative souls out there reading this, if you’ve made it this far, I wonder if you have the same desire to make photographs of the sweet moments in your life whether they be created or organic. If you do, I urge you to be on the lookout of the things that spark an idea in you and then be aware of the complementary things that present themselves to you so you can create the vision, thus making a happy memory for yourself and by default, without even meaning to, your subject—whether that be your kid, your parents, your friend, your pet, anyone you choose to spend time with in this way—and capture something sweet, beautiful, funny, special, touching, or good. 

Recognize the serendipitous things that feel like happenstance. They’re magic. Little happy accidents in life that make it feel so energizing and fun, reminding us that life is amazing. See them as blessings and go with the flow and have fun with gratitude. No pressure. All gifts. 

I promise your heart will be fuller for it.

Following

I wrote the following post and saved it as a draft back in July when my world was in an uproarious change. But really it was just the first of an onslaught of changes.

There comes a point where you just have an overwhelming feeling that you have to focus on what your gut is screaming at you—or a little more sweetly, what your heart is whispering to you. You know, that prompting voice inside that leads? Okay, God, I'm listening. Trying really hard to unquestioningly follow.

Reminds me of this song: "Follow".

There's a fear that comes with letting go, but let me replace one f-word with another—let me rely more heavily on faith instead of crippling fear. God has never let me go, so why do I forget that He has me in every circumstance?

With my brain tumor adventures, I had utmost, complete trust in Him and it was amazingly peaceful and I've often felt that I want to go back to that, which sounds crazy, I know. I don't really want to have more surgeries, but I think what I have been longing for is that feeling of complete trust that's so easy to attain in the most dire of circumstances. What seems so blatantly clear now is that I don't have to wait for extreme situations to trust that Jesus has me. He is my constant.

I had decided in July to tell my manager at the company I worked at for seven years that I would be leaving in December. There were numerous reasons and little nudges for the change, but the biggest reason for the timing was that I knew my review was coming up and I wanted to convey that I wouldn't be here for next year since I was planning to go back to school in the spring of 2014. I joke that I shot myself in the foot by doing that because I gave way too much notice. Looking back though, it was perfect; and I'm glad I gave a ridiculous amount of notice. Understandably, there was no other option for management to ask me to leave sooner—the end of September instead of December—since there was my new partner and my replacement to train (who are both great and exactly where they need to be also!).

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight." —Prov. 3:5–6

Meanwhile, unexpectedly during that seven-and-a-half-weeks of "notice," my husband Kurtis and I learned that I am pregnant. Wow! I didn't see that crazy timing coming! So besides getting all registered for school via NAU (Northern Arizona University, my alma mater), we are getting prepared for a baby to join us in our little home and I was able to feel sick those first three months in the comfort of home. Come January, I will be undertaking a post-baccalaureate certificate in professional writing, and if things go well, I will continue to pursue a masters degree in English: Rhetoric and the Teaching of Writing. I'm super excited to earn the credentials to be qualified in the field I want to be in. I'm also thrilled to get to experience what it means to be a mother! Kurt and I will have a magnificent time figuring out what it's like to be parents together! Our baby is due May 17, 2014—again, what seems like perfect timing to coincide with my first semester back to school.

So, see? I'm reminded daily about God's surprising gifts and that I'm so not in control. I'll keep following.

Faithfully,
Dawn

Mr. Claus at home in the desert

 

That's right! Mr. Claus made a special stop in the desert. He's the best Santa ever—kind, jolly, caring, and he has just the right words for children of all ages!  

Ho, Ho, Ho!
Dawn

Two Scents

Leaving Macayo's Mexican Kitchen after a delightful, relaxing dinner with Kurtis upon his return from a two-day work trip, I spouted memories of visiting him at the nearby AlphaGraphics back in 2001 when we were both students and freshly dating. He had been a key operator there and I was a Picture People photographer. We reminisced about the occasions I would swing by and we'd chat on an outdoor concrete bench while he took his break.

"You had a different smell back then," I recalled aloud. (I had just finished off a deliciously tangy margarita, so perhaps that's why my word choice was "smell" and not "scent.") I clarified, "Not that you ever smell badly, but you just smell differently now than how you used to." We talked about the then-and-now variables, and then I pondered, "Hmmm...I wonder if I smell more like you now or if you smell more like me or if we made an entirely new smell."

Kurt replied, "We melded smells. We smelded."

Still laughing at our "two cents,"
Dawn

Brain Reflections

 
Forgive me for not posting about my last brain MRI from November, which thankfully shows things sittin' just fine! This is what I wrote on November 6, 2012 but neglected to post until now:

I had an MRI yesterday and while things seem to be going excellently with the noggin and my resuming work and regular life, my emotions started up when I had to fill out a run-of-the-mill doctor's office form. When it asked for my height (which hasn’t changed since I was 13), I thought about it and wrote 5’10" (which is actually my sister's height). Then while sitting in the waiting room after I had already turned in the electronic clipboard, a surge of panicked realization surged through me. Oh, Dawn! You’re 5’8 ¾”! I'm unfortunately very critical of myself...especially when I make what feels like "silly" mistakes. People constantly remind me that they make similar mistakes to the ones I make "all the time," but it's altogether too easy for me to quickly associate errors with my brain surgery bout.

Enter hot, burning oozing behind the eyes as I tried to suppress determined, leaking, salty tears. By the time I was in the MRI room with the familiar machinery blooping and beeping, whirring and putt-putting, I couldn’t hold them in any longer.

“What kind of music would you like to listen to?” the friendly MRI tech asked me (who either didn't see my sour-puss face or chose to ignore it).

“Anything non-emotional, please,” I requested at least one octave too high.

I chose what I thought was a safe local Tucson radio station: 92.9 FM. Still, I warned her that I felt like I was going to cry and apologized. She reassured me that I can go ahead and cry and she urged me to not be too hard on myself. “Crying is a good release.” I agree with her, but I just didn’t expect or intend on it at all yesterday morning. Besides my silly height error from earlier and the flood of memories from the reasoning for having to be in the loud coffin-like machine at all, of course the soundtrack inside my head had to be so beautiful: “Home” by Phillip Phillips. Let the floodgates open.

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

See what I mean? Much deeper of a song than I needed to hear while having a brain MRI. One that reminds me of my family and not being alone on a curvy, unpredictable pathway.

The challenge of staying still and stifling tears at the same time is so difficult and, in retrospect, comical. It was like having a deep hiccup every 30 seconds or so. I wondered if the image of my brain would be slightly blurry from my little intermittent jumps. Deep breaths in and out, but not because I was claustrophobic—no, I find comfort in that machine in many ways—like he’s an old friend, who has been there with me throughout this journey. It was a hodgepodge of emotions—too much to explain to the friendly administrator or even here now. In the end, she said she got good images and I’ll find out if there are any changes next Tuesday when I meet with Dr. Scully.

Whew! I remember those feelings from November (and now it's already nearly April) and I'm happy to report that it appeared my ventricles even shrank a wee bit!

Tumor still in there, but I think my ventricles shrank!

My MRI scan once injected with intravenous contrast.

My "noodle."

I can't help but see faces in my brain scans.

 My next MRI is scheduled for May and I promise to produce a much more prompt report.

I enjoy the reflection process and realizing the reminder that life is oh-so-quick, to focus on what is good and lovely—you know, the real important stuff—and to enjoy this life with which God has graced and entrusted to me. Go on, let's all live it up...and enjoy the soundtrack to accompany your story!

Sounds good,
Dawn

4th Avenue Street Fair Bands

March in Tucson always includes the 4th Avenue Street Fair:

While we wondered the booths and made our way through the crowd of people, we also enjoyed lemonade, corn dogs, and the music of several bands playing.

Characters abound. I loved having so many artistic people being their expressive selves and sharing live music and art all around us!

Charmed,
Dawn

Butterfly Landing

"Happiness is a butterfly which, when pursued is always beyond our grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."

—Nathaniel Hawthorne

 

...and that is exactly what happened.

 La Encantada's Mildred & Dildred toyshop hosted a charming butterfly release two weekends ago. My two nieces and two nephews joined my mom and me to witness the butterflies trying out their fresh new wings. My sister's kids have had the experience of raising their own butterflies at home before but I think most would agree that butterflies never seem to get boring. The excitement was in the air and every child (at heart) wanted a butterfly to walk on their finger.

Megan sat patiently with Nathan as he tried so desperately to lure a butterfly to him with a flower. 

 

One the butterflies were released, all of the kids in the outdoor mall flocked to get up close and personal with the elegant colorful creatures.

After a hour-long detour of a pennies-in-fountain adventure and an ice cream treat, additional "happiness" in the form of a butterfly fluttered our way and found the perfect perching place on Nathan. The joyful feeling was definitely mutual.

 Nathan was thrilled and it became apparent that he realized he might possibly keep this butterfly when he took off at a hasty pace it seemed to get the butterfly home. It was difficult to stay ahead of him to get some pictures. He was so sweet and careful not to hurt the fragile butterfly.

"Many butterflies can taste with their feet to find out whether the leaf [or kid] they sit on is good to lay eggs on to be their caterpillars' food or not" (http://www.thebutterflysite.com/facts.shtml). He must have tasted delicious! Who would have thought a little boy of sweat, dirt, and ice cream would be so alluring to a butterfly?

The butterfly did a lot of tasting amongst a family of hands! Justin was very curious, but when the butterfly crawled on to his hand, he quickly shook it off, but she was sweetly rescued by Sarah.

Lovely Sarah and the butterfly.

 Time to bid farewell to the orange-white-and-black insect that delighted us and the entire afternoon.

Happily,
Dawn

"Move Along" Song Strength

It has been exactly one year since my second of three brain surgeries. I haven't written too much about my brain surgeries because there was a lot of healing and reflecting to do before I really even knew what to say.  Here goes...

With my husband Kurtis immediately before going into the second brain surgery, March 31, 2011.

First meal after the second surgery, April 1, 2011.

I remember the day I found out I had a brain tumor. My mom met me at my doctor's office so we could hear the results of my MRI together. I had been complaining about headaches that occurred when I did simple things like climb a flight of stairs, turn my head, or bend over to tie my shoe. Those reoccurring tasks would cause a throbbing jolt of pain to my head and then it would fade until I did one of those seemingly simple tasks again. The appointment was set up for several weeks out, but one day at work, tears leaked from my eyes out of pain and frustration so I called to see if I could come in sooner.

A few days later I had my appointment and strangely enough, my headaches had been less frequent, but I kept my appointment. I had to know what was happening! My doctor had the tough job of telling me the reality that a tumor the size of an apple or an orange sat in the center of my brain, where the cerebral fluid is made. Immediately after my doctor told me the news, he told me I needed to see a neuro surgeon that same day, whose name happened to be Dr. Scully. There were a few hours until he would be available to explain the situation in more detail to us, so we made some emotional calls to my husband, dad and sister to fill them in on the shocking development, then I went to work to tell my manager and co-workers all that we knew at the time. On the way to work I heard this song in my car on the radio: Move Along by The All-American Rejects

The song has stuck with me and is a constant reminder to stay strong no matter what. (I must add a disclaimer that crying doesn't mean one is not strong.) It definitely felt like God meant for that song to give me an extra boost of courage. At that moment in my car driving to work after the new information, I needed to hear that song.

At the end of the music video where all the hands come up to catch the man, I am so fortunate that I had that—the love and strength of a truly incredible supportive, encouraging, selfless system who wouldn't let me feel alone or defeated...even to this day. I thank God for the people placed in my life to lift me up.

My family wore "Live Strong" bracelets, which, even now, when I see them still wearing them makes me feel so blessed.

In my case, my rare central neurocytoma tumor turned out to be non-cancerous, which was and still is such a blessing. But when I recall first hearing the news, I felt I had so much still to do. I remember saying to Dr. Scully once he told me what I had, "But I haven't done anything yet." And I don't mean "anything," but there was just that overwhelming sense that I have more juice to burn and have allowed my procrastinating ways to hold me back. So many dreams that I hadn't pursued yet still lurked in my soul; so many wishes I had not explored yet.

I'm so thankful that my rotten headaches are gone and my life is pretty well back to normal. There are things I forget and I'm really terrible at math, but all things considered, things are getting back on track after a year-long detour. I am due for another MRI mid-April to see if the left over tumor has changed or not. I am eager to hear the status in May. While I wouldn't wish my experience on anyone else, I also wouldn't trade my experience for anything either. I just have to remember to keep going. Writing this post is a good reminder to myself to stop wasting time. Do things. Experience life. Live strong. Trust God. Love.

Keepin' on,
Dawn

Handsome Hopper

Hi, fella!

You are most definitely the largest and most handsome grasshopper I've ever seen up close and I'm so lucky you let me take your portrait. Kurtis and I were thrilled to have met you, but we're sorry that your leg was sore. I know you never would have let us get that close to you if you could have hopped away. Hoping for lots of long hops for you, and we hope you didn't mind the tree well in which we placed you.

Cheerio, ol' chap!
Dawn

The Wearing Off of My Caramel Macchiato

Dear delicious caramel-flavored caffeinated beverage,

I needed you today and while I'm very grateful for the time you spent with me, I'm a little disappointed that I can feel your affects are about ready to leave me for the night. Please hang in there a little longer, Joe. Be a pal. Even if your influence on me must fade, I'm expecting to see you again tomorrow...and then maybe the next day...and the next? Thanks for the pep talk. Let's do this again.

Much more calmly now,
Dawn

Fishing for Planets

It has been a while since we dragged out the telescope and since the view is definitely more panoramic from my parents' home, we hauled the scope and tripod over there for a visit under the stars starting with a feast of fish, wild rice, and coleslaw, with tomato and cucumber slices. Then we trekked outside, aiming the scope west, pointed toward the two bright spots in the sky.


Since we didn't do our research before looking at the close-together planets, we weren't entirely sure what we were about to scope out, but we had our tackle box with us complete with a flashlight, a few lenses, and a camera. Time to go planet fishing. We tossed a line into a sea of stars.

First we found the seemingly smaller of the two planets and since we could visibly see four smaller satellites around the planet, we knew the planet was Jupiter. Jupiter has 16 larger "moons" (but really 63 altogether) and we could see four of them through the telescope.

So what was the mysterious bright planet? We threw out our line into space a little to the right of Jupiter to hunt for the brightest point in the sky that night. Turns out it was lovely Venus.

We gazed deeper into the heavens until the apple pie in the kitchen called us away from the shores of the stars.

Star-struck,
Dawn

The Best Curler-Upper I Know

Ah, Max, our sweet cat. I love how symmetrically his feet are tucked underneath him.

I'm really not obsessed with Max, although I see how it would seem that way. Being home so much in the past several months, he always seemed like he was posing for me and I just couldn't help to capture him on camera. He's so adorable and a natural model! I love that he doesn't hate my giant cyclops of an eye following him around the house, continuously staring at him intently. He used to be more of a scaredy cat with my camera in the room than he is now. Now he's a pro model cat, and a handsome, regal one at that! I thought I would post some of my favorite pictures of him resting from the past while. It was nice to have him around with me while I was at home resting, too. I'm back at work now and he gets to continue being a lounging kitty.


Fat, happy cat! He took up the entire ottoman!


I'm equally pleased and jealous of how comfortable he always snuggles in some place.

He makes me want to stretch. I'm glad he takes time for a bit of exercise during a lazy day.


I don't think he could be more adorable and loving!


Like mine, his nose is often chilled, but he manages to find a way to warm it up.


Purrrrrrrr,
Dawn

Thirty-Two, Meet Thirty-Three

Thirty-two has been my most event-filled year thus far, but I'm actually happy for all that happened during that voyage around the sun despite the scares and unknowns and twists and turns that occurred in my very own real-life drama. Deep down, I think I craved an adventure and boy, did I get one! Amongst the things that helped me get through the year: four surgeries (which fixed my rotten headaches); tons of well-wishes, love, and support from family, friends, co-workers, doctors, nurses, and therapists; countless films; Sudoku; a bit of reading; bouquets of flowers, special gifts, home-made meals, and lovely trinkets; dozens of pictures of our cat, Max, while I hung out at home; and the prayer-turned-reality of healing and feeling better. It's so easy to take health for granted. Now I see it as something to be aware of and treasure immensely. I'm happy to report that I do feel oh-so-much-better and I hope anyone reading this feels good, too. Life's short and needs... deserves... to be enjoyed. Hear, hear!?

I'm about to start my thirty-third journey around the sun and cheers to seeing what's in store there.

Blessings,
Dawn

Max, like Kurt

Max, our cat.


He's handsome and sweet...a lot like Kurtis. They're both there for me. Comfy. Relaxed. Charming. Goofy. And they both have see-through ears when the sun shines through them.

Not me though,
Dawn