Nella's ONEder Fund.

Bonjour, Monsieur! Comment ca va? Je...have been learning French. Rather, Francais. Don't ask me why; well, you can. I'm desperate for raw mental stimulation. Not the every-day occurring kind of thing. The college learning kind of thing. A year ago I would've killed for a mindless job, re-runs of Grey's Anatomy, a mental stewing of boredom. And now, I'm craving it. Craaaaaving. Craving a response on an academic paper. Craving studying for an exam and the rush of receiving back an A. I was never real in-tune with athletics at school. (I dribbled in court instead of throwing the ball from out-of-bounds in junior high basketball. Twice.) But I was smart. And once I scooted around different majors and minors, I finally settled into my niche at the end of sophomore year. Shakespeare, Emily Bronte, and even J.K. Rowling (okay, maybe not that last one). All became good friends accompanying me into a world of academics where I could excel. After finishing a couple novels by the Bronte sisters, I was in desperate need of new reading material. Cue Barnes & Noble. Cue Brennigan not having enough money. Cue Adam. Cue him suggesting library. Cue searching. Cue Learn French books. Too many "cues." Cue mental reminder not to use them again. Okay, that just sounds kind of stupid.

Besides sounding insanely sexy when spoken (is that too shallow?), French is a beautifully complex language. Since I was dying for an academic challenge, I picked up a few books (as well as a recommended novel) on the subject. I AM LOVING IT. I've made some flash-cards, registered online at a French learning site, and am probably annoying Adam more than usual with my relentless, "Bonjour Monsieur! Comment ca va? Bon! Au revoir!" My speech may sound redundant, but my oh my, I bet I sound sexy.

But not everything's been airy, and sexy, and French. No, no. We're talking major freak-out on my part (isn't it always?). I'm no expert, but I don't think this is good.

My lens broke. MY LENS BROKE. My sweet, baby 50mm 1.8. And I was devastated. The devastated where I'm booooing and whiiiining to Adam on the phone about my itty bitty lens FALLING APART. When I have a shoot Sunday. A baby shoot. And when I do baby shoots, I need my baby lens. Cue Adam (I swear, that's my last one). The man is sick, but drives me to Grand Rapids to get my lens looked at. And supports me as I buy a replacement lens. Then drives me all the way back. I love my baby lens (number 2), and I love that he cares so much about me and my business.

BLOG-SHIFT. I've got a few thoughts that's been on my heart lately. And ready or not, I'm going to start pouring them out.

Number 1. Sweet Nella.

Nella's turning one. I've been following her mom's blog, Kelle Hampton, for almost the entire year (unless you're counting going through all her old blog posts; then I've technically been following her for a couple of years). Kelle is an inspiration to me as an artist, as a mom, as a lover-of-life. I look forward to her blog-posts every.single.time she posts something new, and I frequently find myself talking about her and her beautiful girls, Nella and Lainey, as if I knew them personally.

Nella has down-syndrome. Her diagnosis, like many other children with DS, wasn't discovered until her birth. And since then, Kelle has been raising awareness about DS and life's challenges --and JOYS TOO, hallelujah-- while raising a child with DS. For Nella's first birthday, she's established the ONEder fund where all proceeds will go directly to the NDSS (National Down Syndrome Society).

Kelle is right. If I donated just $5 - the price of one of my bridal magazines - I could help bring about change. And I couldn't help it. My heart strings play like one of those big bass guitars -all funky and cool and full of soul- when I see sweet Nella's face. And so, if you'd be willing as well, you can donate too right here.

Oh, and here's Kelle's video about the ONEder fund. Go on and watch it; I dare you not to cry.

Number 2. The fire.
I've been thinking about the fire lately. The fire of life where we're pulled in both directions, making too-little-money pay the bills, handling sick babies and sick husbands, and dealing with emotional and physical stress. And this fire, this fire is where we're scared to death even just to breathe for a moment for fear of suffocation from the smoke effects.
But the fire isn't meant to burn us. It's meant to refine us. Like a sword being taken a slab of ugly metal and being made into a tougher, more beautiful piece of art.
I'm thankful for being made new.
I don't really have a great way to end this since my mind is turning to mush, and crawling into my heated bed just sounds so inviting. So happy weekend, friends!

Test.

So, I'm testing this new way to post pictures here on the blog. A way that will allow my images to be shown larger and much more precise than just uploading via blogger.

Here we go!

And no, unfortunately this doesn't count towards my monthly goal of 5 posts per month. A REAL blog post is coming! :)

Snow Days.

Of all the times I'm grateful to be a born + raised Michigander, it'd have to be in this season; when the roads are full of ice, and the snow sloshes around winter-tires. It's not because I love the snow. On the contrary, I'm desperate for open windows and spring breezes and sun rays that stir my soul. BUT, I am grateful to be born here.

I was driving home the other night, and a on-coming van swerved into my lane, did a 360 degree spin, and then veered back into his lane and onto the side of the road. Whenever such things occur (like deer on the side of the road during autumn), my heart stops. Literally, it stops. Then speeds up. And my body aches as if all my muscles prepared for a crash. And I don't know if he wasn't sure how much his van could handle on the icy roads (some people are just so ignorant when it comes to those matters) or if it really was out of his control.

But I am grateful that when I was 16, I was learning how to drive with snow. When I first took my car out in the winter, my dad had me drive into a snow drift just so I could figure out how to back out of it. I am grateful because I'm prepared to drive on these roads that cause multiple accidents daily.

I am grateful to be Michigan-born because I know my car. I know how my car handles during this precarious season. I know the stiffening of my steering wheel when I hit a patch of fresh snow. I know the sound of my tires when I hit ice. I know how soon I must hit the brakes in order to stop on time. I know this season. And I'd venture to say, that you other Michigan-born drivers do as well.

And so when I hear of schools closing in other states because of two inches of snow, I chuckle to myself. Two inches isn't enough to even notice here. Two FEET maybe, but never two inches. And even then, we Michigan-born put on our boots, shovel off our cars, and head to work. Because let's just be honest; this lucky talent we were raised to cultivate makes us a feel a little superior with all things motorized. Okay,...maybe a lot superior.

Happy Birthday, Blog.

One year ago today, I started writing the blog that would help transform my creative spirit. Let's see how I lived up to the expectations set for myself in my first blog here.

2010 will be a great year. i've been waiting for this year for a while. what is to come?

diplomas. job offers. new apartments. diamonds, perhaps? :)

Check, check, check. Oh, and CHECK. While I wouldn't be so bold as to venture to sum up a year with so many monumental benchmarks, I will say that I am happy. A year ago, I wasn't. I found myself in a social rut, and a personal daily struggle to be happy where I was. I was living life on the edge of a sanity I fought hard and persistently to protect. Today, I may not wake up every morning rejoicing for the dawn of a new day (not to say that I shouldn't, but have you stepped outside lately? 20 degree weather is not my cup of tea.), but I wake up with hope. Every single day. Hope in new possibilities. For work, for my relationships, for life.

We've come a long ways; me and my little blog. So here's to hopin', sweet thang. Hoping for a year filled with stories, lessons, and pictures of beauty to write about. Right here, at my blog.

Hello, 2011. I've been expecting you.

I've had a problem with blogging lately. I've started over five blogs in the past month, but just can't seem to finish anything. And I so desperately wanted to blog about Christmas and my love for all things tradition, but this Christmas seemed so different not being home for days upon days or following the same Christmas Eve traditions. And then I caught a bug I just couldn't seem to shake until just a few days ago, and...and...lame excuse after lame excuse. I loved being with my parents and those I love the most. Christmas came and went, and I welcomed the calm of the ordinary. I embraced the everydayness of life without parties, presents, and soaring odometers.

And after doing all the laundry, putting away all the presents, and switching back to a more normal diet free of gravy-topped potatoes and chocolate creme pies, I've found myself here.

Nestled in my chair with a cup of loose leaf British tea and an old book.

And I couldn't be happier.

I have blessed beyond what I could have hoped for or imagined. And I know it.

Now onto the New Year. For fun, I'll pop the cork off 2011 with three things off my resolution list.

1. Blog 5 times per month (off to a great start).

2. Pay off debt before getting married in August.

3. GAIN 10 pounds (and yes, I meant gain...as in "add" - "in addition" - "plus"). So grateful to have that luxury.

Any resolutions over there in your neck of the woods?