When the Lights Come On

Everything is a little sparkly and more special at dusk. Even the city of Birmingham, Alabama, looks beautiful when she puts on her jewels.

Wave as They Pass By

41 second exposure

Do you see that faint streak of light up there in the center of the photo? That's the International Space Station, hurtling through space at a speed of about 17,000 mph. It is 230 miles above the earth and is the brightest man-made object in space.

Last night, when I took this photo, we all stood outside and watched it pass. As we craned our necks up at the sky, feet firmly planted on the ground, I wondered what it must be like to be up there, looking down. How surreal to see your planet zooming past like a giant schoolroom globe - day and night and day and night -15 orbits in a 24 hour period.

Do they get used to it? Does it grow to feel commonplace?

I'd like to think that I would spend my six months in space gasping in awe each time I passed a window, but somehow we humans grow easily bored of awesome.

We drive into our garages and enter our homes completely oblivious to the wonder that exists around us. We catch a glimpse of the vastness of space and forget to be amazed. We see a sunrise and rub our eyes and wish we were still in bed asleep.

My mother taught me to name the constellations and marvel at meteor showers. I hope I can manage the same with my children. I certainly intend to try.


122 minute exposure - ISS and star movement

P.S. There are some excellent resources available if you are interested in tracking the ISS or finding what's going on in your part of the night sky - here are a few...

Find out when the ISS will be visible in your part of the world here.

Check out the constellations in real time on your iPhone here. (There are Android apps available, as well, but I don't have an Android phone, so I can't really recommend them.)

Plan your next meteor shower viewing here.

Keep looking up, people.

Eighty-eight Days

Eyes on the Prize

I love the intensity and focus in his eyes -- there's just no doubt he's going to make perfect contact with the ball.

I find tennis to be the ultimate metaphor for life...

• Work hard with focus and determination, but be still and reflect when you have the opportunity.
• Competitive spirit shouldn't trump fair play. 
• Be polite, even especially to your opponents. 
• Breathe through your anger and disappointments.
• Don't be so hard on yourself. Perfection is unattainable. Mistakes are just growth opportunities.
• When things aren't going your way, fix your mistakes instead of blaming your opponent.
• Sometimes the other guy just gets lucky. Sometimes you do.
• Solve problems as you face them. 
• There's no substitute for excellent preparation. Play hard. Practice harder.
• Find a coach that believes in you and can help you reach your goals.
• At the end of the day, shake hands with your opponent, and wish them luck - even if you lost this one.
• There's nothing wrong with going somewhere private to cry it out. Passion often ends in tears. 

Hang in there, people. Play it out. Never, ever give up.

Canopy

When I was a young girl, I wanted a canopy bed so I could sleep under the magical forest that lived in my head.

I also spent a lot of time in my closet with my dad's flashlight, exploring the depths of uncharted caves, so I probably shouldn't be taken very seriously.

Edges

When he was really little, I had a hard time getting a focused photo of him. He was all soft and round and perfectly smooth. There were no defined edges for the autofocus to use.

Not any more. He's all angles and edges and sharply defined lines. He's deep black eyelashes and strong eyebrows. He's intense focus and pale eyes and gorgeous freckles.

On the one hand, it means my photos of him are much better.

On the other hand, it means my baby is growing up way too fast.

Sunfall

It was a day of sunshine and waterfalls, wildflowers and bird songs, mountain streams and tumbled boulders.

Snowbird

Another winter birdie from Target. Another happy scene with Martini's bar in the background.

Perhaps we'll go for the mulled wine this afternoon...

Who's Counting?

I am!

Nine days till Christmas, seven days till Derek turns 14, five days till school break.

Friday!

It's Friday, everyone!

Who wants to head down to Martini's for a little flaming rum punch?

(I do.)

Twelve Days - Twelve Things

1. All my Christmas decorating is done. Now I need to clean my house from all the Christmas decorating. That just seems unfair. Seems to me that the elves should have to do something.
2. Most of my Christmas shopping is done. Except for the main gifts for the boys. I have stocking stuffers and cute little things and pajamas. I have no idea what they will be getting other than that. Perhaps brooms and dusters, and I shall rename them "elves."
3. There are only eight days until school is out. I'm extraordinarily excited about it. Two whole weeks of me NOT constantly badgering my children to get their school work done. What other Christmas present do I need?
4. I made these cookies for the boys' robotics team competition last weekend. Do yourself a favor and make them for yourself. Just be sure to share, because otherwise you will eat all of them by yourself and then you won't be able to zip up your favorite holiday pants and you'll blame me, and I don't need that kind of stress.
5. I made this cake for a Christmas dinner party last weekend, too. It didn't look as pretty as the Southern Living variety, but it was very moist and flavorful. Go. Make. Share.
6. AND - I have big plans to make this cake for Derek's 14th birthday, which is in 11 days. If it comes out at all like the photo, I'll be certain to post my own photo for you all to admire. Chances are, it won't because that's just the way I roll.
7. I got that little yarn wrapped birdie in the photo at Target, and he just makes me smile. I have two more and I'm fairly certain they aren't going to get packed away with the Christmas decorations this year. They're just too adorable to hide.
8. My dogs need presents. Do my dogs need presents?
9. In two days, the love of my life comes home to me. Who needs Christmas presents?
10. On Christmas Eve, we always have a "feast" and watch "It's a Wonderful Life." I'm always on the lookout for "feast" food. I don't know why we call it a "feast." It's just appetizers as supper and we spread it out on the coffee table and sit around reaching over each other for everything and quoting all the best George Bailey lines. I love Christmas Eve.
11. Can't wait to see this...and to hear my boyfriend, Mr. Cumberbatch, woo us all with his dulcet tones - even if he is a dragon.
12. I have been seeing the idea on Pinterest to make monogram wreaths for the front door. I keep thinking it's a great idea, and then I remember that my last name starts with an "O" and that means that every ordinary Christmas wreath is a monogram wreath for me. I pretty much win Christmas.

Wordless Wednesday

Throwback Thursday

Christmas 2004...
When open brotherly affection was still the gift of choice.

This Stuff(y) is Legend

These guys. 

They've been around a while.

That's Benn on the left. It's not Ben. It's Benn. Get it right.

In clockwise fashion, there's Steve and Dexter.

Then Baby, in the middle. Or maybe Little Bear. I can't tell them apart. The boys can, though.

These guys have backstories. They have histories. It's one of the great regrets of my life that I haven't had Derek and Joshua write them down for me. 

Benn is actually King Benn. King of the Stuffies. Steve and Dexter are brothers. Or cousins. I can't remember. Their dad is upstairs somewhere. Or maybe it's their uncle. 

Why don't I have it written down?

They come from their own countries, these stuffies. They have waged wars and fought battles. They've rescued each other from certain doom. The imagination that has gone into the care and feeding of these guys is extensive. And these are only four of the dozens of equally back-storied stuffed creatures upstairs.

Every. Single. One. has a name and a story and they all fit in the grand design of two boys who have developed a magical land with its own language and customs and myths (at least one of the stuffies was birthed from the belch of another. I can't remember which.)

Why don't I have it written down?

What a grand tale it is. What a grand undertaking it will be for me to delve deep into the heart of it.  I do believe I've just discovered a project that needs doing - now - before they get so old they forget.

I will have it written down.

Sir

Jasper
King of the GSDs

Sunday Spaces

Knoxville, TN
World's Fair Park Amphitheater

When I Grow Up

Job Wanted:

Applicant holds advanced degrees in geology, super-advanced degrees in chauffeuring mothering and an infinite passion for learning new things of all topics.

Job must include:

Creative thinking and experimentation.
Googling.
Pinterest.
Telling other people what to do.
Drawing and painting.
Science.
Sparkly things.
Benedict Cumberbatch.
Frequent travel to semi-exotic locations paid for by company.
Writing captivating blog posts such as this one.
Telling other people what to do.

Salary requirement is negotiable. Will consider commission-based work, as long as I can tell other people what to do.

Resume available upon request.

Throwback Thursday - Instagram Edition

This is the first picture I ever took with Instagram, in October of 2010. Three years of snapping away at the world. More than 1100 posts later, it's still my favorite form of social media.

What's yours?

Dancing Girls and Whisky

Patrick Sullivan's Saloon
The Old City
Knoxville, Tennessee

Wordless Wednesday

A Day in the Life

I get up early, but not early enough. Never early enough. There simply aren't enough hours in the day to do everything I want and need to do. I know I'm not alone in that. We've created a world of moments that fill up too much space and we never seem satisfied until our moments overflow and run out all over the floor in a mess of chaos.

I fix my coffee and walk to the bottom of the stairs to call the boys down for breakfast. They groan and stretch and stomp, stiff-legged and resentful, down. each. stair. to the chairs where their morning blankets are draped and chilled from the overnight slumber.

"Good morning," I tell them. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmph. Flrgl." They reply.

We hug and snuggle for an all-too-brief moment before setting the breakfast table and eating together. The groggy fog lifts and we start to smile at one another, talking about our agenda for the day. It's carefully choreographed, this life. Each thirty-minute increment marked and labeled. There's little room for wiggling. 

Time to eat.

Time to dress.

Time to study.

Time to learn.

Time to get a snack.

Time to hit the courts.

Time to breathe.

Time to sleep...

and then it starts all over again.