White Lies

There are a few things that I've done my entire life...and when I was too young to do it for myself, my mother did it for me. At every Labor Day's close I would grudgingly put away my white pants, white jeans and white shoes. Even though the sun is still bright and that hint of fall I spoke of in an earlier post was just a ruse, I'll do it...we do it...because we are from the South and well...that's just what you do. "No white (below the waist) after Labor Day" is an unspoken rule that is followed probably more than any other fashion rule that I know of in my neck of the woods. Unless of course you are a bride and then it is allowed during the week of your wedding and honeymoon. But...what happens when the rule is broken? Well, it'll garner some pretty strong looks and an assumption that you are either not from the South or worse, the comment..."bless her heart". Now, here I am...a girl born and raised in the South...the deep South...and yet I find myself looking longingly at my white pants...my skinny white jeans that fall just long enough to wear my highest Chanel-esque wood clogs. I hear it all the time in all kinds of interviews and read columns in all kinds of fashion magazines that suggest..."the rules have changed...we actually CAN wear white after Labor Day...and apparently there really aren't any rules anymore". Yet, after hearing this bit of news over and over again I am still timid about slipping into white mid-September. And why? Why am I worried? What's going to happen? And, why do I care? I've also heard that "rules are meant to be broken", yet breaking into the local country club's pool after hours makes me less nervous than wearing white after Labor Day. And so, I guess ..."old habits really do die hard" because I'm not sure I can bring myself to change my ways. Maybe it's the South, maybe it's the heat...or maybe it's just me...either way, the tradition will remain...they'll be tucked away...and like a kid on Easter morning I'll pull them out and start a new season. Tradition...rules...and Southern pride in tact.

Nautical by Nature?

During a recent trip to the lowcountry...the husband and my sister and I rented a Catalina 22 and set out to sail the Sound. While I love all things nautical as mentioned many times before...nautical stripes, white pants, topsiders, sailor bracelets, boat totes...etc., and even though I've been sailing before...I have decided that while battling the incoming tide and an uncooperative mainsail...that I much prefer sailing with a hired captain. My day of leisure and relaxing while looking fab in my Seaside hat, racer tank swimsuit, and Burberry glasses became tangled in sweat, ropes and knot tying after trying to raise the mainsail, set the jib and keep from "heeling" my party into the water! Each time I felt as though my husband was a toe away from being tossed at sea I would "come about" in such a fashion that would make Formula One drivers proud (think...hairpin). While under sail...I started thinking...there are so many everyday common uses of sailing terms...things we say so often that we never think of their true meaning. Like...tell tale...it's the little ribbon that hangs on the mast to show wind direction...or, in everyday conversation it is used to indicate an outward sign. Or, three sheets to the wind...while our little boat only had two sails, the term refers to when the three sails are set but not tight and loosely flapping in the wind or as we all know in common everyday terms...liquored up! So, I suppose that with a Nation so rich in sailing and Naval history it would seem inevitable that these sailing phrases would become a part of our everyday expressions. While I may never master sailing a boat on my own without my fear of...well...everything...getting in the way...I have decided that sailing is something that every couple should do together at least once. What I know is that you have to communicate...you have to tell the other person what you are doing and what to watch for and...you may need help and that's okay. I was never so glad to crank in the sails and lower our tiny motor as I was that day. And, while we were in no immediate danger...save for my tossing of the boom during a couple of my "coming about's" that nearly sent everyone overboard...I was glad to be back on land and while I know I will never master the gracefulness and style while sailing that Jackie Kennedy exuded, I have since decided that nautical stripes, white pants, and topsiders look just fine on shore whilst sipping a salty dog and reveling in my time "at sea". For more everyday nautical expressions check out: http://see-the-sea.org/nautical/naut-body.htm image credit: Mark Shaw

Well, I'm officially...off the island and couldn't be more sad to have to leave! Hilton Head has one of the most efficient and incredible ecosystems I've ever seen (think... marsh as far as the eye can see)...smelled (think salt water...green grass...moss draped trees)...and tasted (think...shrimp...crab...mussels...and fish). Miss it already! So, after a week of fun in the Lowcountry...completely relaxed...recharged...and now...re-plugged in...I'll be back to blogging in a bit.

It's no secret that I'm a constant worrier! Seriously, if the term "worry wart" were literal there wouldn't be enough Creme de La Mer to save my skin! While I keep most of my worry tucked neatly away...every now and then my "crazy" comes out. Whether it be some incurable disease, bed bugs (seriously checked the mattress 3 nights in a row!), or my latest...the Mayan Calendar and our certain demise in 2012...I am a worrier of monumental proportions! Yes, I am often made fun of by my friends but they do get a kick out of it and many times they'll just defer to me because they know I've probably encountered or researched whatever they are currently concerned about. And, I think I do more worrying now that I'm a mom...a keeper of someone who relies on me 100% for 100% of everything! But what if we could just figure everything out as we go. What if we didn't have to look at the big picture...instead we could just roll out of bed and take each day like a toddler...with no fear and a constant desire to walk everywhere...all the time! We'd all be super fit...early risers...mid-day nappers...with no worry in sight! Truth is, we are inundated on a daily basis with one more thing to worry about. Did our grandparents worry like us or did they simply spend more time outdoors...away from the television...with no computers...and a party line that could be tied up all night if someone's child's friend's cousin was in town and dressed improperly for church. So, here's my question...is this "worry" made for TV? Is it was drives us to the theater to see epic life-ending demise type movies? Is the constant barrage of gloom and doom news and our country's economic decline what infuses us with worry that can not be quelled? Have we become so used to the worry that we crave it as entertainment? I have no desire to see movies in which we all are met with a certain death of crumbling mountains...flooded city streets and...no sweet tea. I prefer an escape of dreamier substance...where we aren't being chased by molten lava down 5th Avenue with no time to stop in at Prada and Saks. But...why do so many other people want to see these worrisome thrillers? What is it about certain death that is er, intriguing...entertaining? For now, I'll just keep popping my popcorn at home (gotta get one of those butter squirters) and watching something lighthearted and funny where everyone has a good time...isn't worried about the world coming to an end...has a fabulous wardrobe...and where everyone lives to see another day...I mean, we only have until 2012...might as well have fun...right?? image credit: mark dixon

going...going...gone

Summer is slowly slipping away and while it's mid-August I find myself still clinging to July. Although the thought of a cool fall breeze is well...exciting, I find it interesting that when it's hot...like, SUPER...100+ degree hot...we long for the brisk chill of fall and winter. And, when that brisk chill turns to freezing...we long for the warmth of a summer day. Why can't we just enjoy the hot days when it's hot and the cold days when it's cold? While thinking about this...envisioning myself wrapped in a J.Crew cable sweater, vintage matchstick corduroys, and soft brown riding boots...I realize that it's not really the cooler weather I crave but more so the activities that surround the ushering of fall. Football, the pumpkin patch, the fair, Halloween with friends, delivery of the fall edition of Vogue (you know the one...that's about 2 inches thick and takes you 2 days minimum to peruse from cover to cover)...these are the things I crave...and cooler weather just happens to be part of it. So...with that realization...it's not July I'm clinging to but the activities of summer...swimming, baseball, eating sno-balls, the farmer's market, and vacations that never end. I miss it already and it hasn't even left. But with the "back to school" frenzy and summer hours dwindling...it's only a matter of time. And...as I sit writing this...looking out the window...I can see the tiniest approach of fall...a few yellow leaves...a bit of a breeze...and if I stare long enough I can see a fall day before me. But alas...the thermometer reads 97 degrees and well...seems July is clinging to August. image credit: Greg Lawler - Zinkwazi Photoblog

thinking inside the Box...

Remember those accordion wallet photo holders...you know...the ones that your grandmother kept filled with the photos of every year of school you had completed. All stuck there...immortalized in their little frames of perforated plastic. Or...in the cube that sat on the coffee table for everyone to view. How did they get the pictures in the cube anyway? Photos have always been a big part of our lives. Good or bad they are the memories that are cherished most...memories that can be passed on from one generation to another. I can remember sitting for hours at Olan Mills as a child. I hated those days...(no offense Olan but really...so boring in there). And the wagon wheel and split rail fence are just...well...odd. But there I was...in some sort of terry cloth halter get-up posing on the fence as if I had just gotten off my horse to pick daisies in the field behind me. Thank goodness photography has evolved over the years. While I do still love a Polaroid and a photo booth, I am forever amazed by the genius of photographers...namely...Kim Box Photography. When my daughter turned one I sought the best photographer I could find. One that would capture my daughter in all of her innocence but still maintaining a natural element. There would be no pressure to pose, no pressure to perform, and even room for meltdowns and clothing mishaps. Kim does everything with an ease that will set the tone for the most wonderful moments you will ever have captured. After the session...and all my one year old's squirming and fussing and...my wrangling her in the hot October sun I thought there couldn't have been more than one picture that would turn out. But there we were...a couple weeks later...staring...fighting back tears...as we looked at the photos of our sweet little girl. Every picture was perfect...better than the last. Somehow Kim had managed to get every shot right...every moment seemed pure perfection. And somehow we managed to make a decision on what to order. I left their studio knowing that I would be back.

This past spring we...once again...went to Kim for photos. This time...at the beach...and with the whole family. There again, I had no idea if any would turn out (toddlers are not predictable...seriously). The beach was so beautiful...if anything we'd have a perfect backdrop and sunset to fall back on. We wandered around Watercolor in 30A...first in the gardens...then the pier...and finally the beach. With just a few fits and lots of singing and general clowning to get a toddler's attention...we managed to get in what I thought would be a few good shots. A couple weeks passed and there we were again...sitting...fighting back tears...as we saw each image. How would we choose? After pouring over each image we settled on ordering an album...not the sticky plastic...accordinan...album-esque type from my youth...but one that would be cherished by us and some day our daughter...for a lifetime. And...again...I left knowing I would be back... When you find that balance...that person...that can come into your life and capture it just as it is...no pretense...no forced fun...no disconnect...then you have found a true artist.

Kim and everyone who works with her that we have had the pleasure of meeting and working with are...well...good people. Their work speaks for itself...and their sincerity and compassion come through in everything they do. If you're looking for emotion, natural ease, and love in your photos...it's waiting for you...inside the Box! To capture your own magic visit...http://kimboxphotography.com/

Or visit them in person...

Kim Box Photography 157 W Main Street Prattville, AL 36067 Phone:(334) 491-0409

All images courtesy of Kim Box Photography

Featured in images...me, mr. smith and our daughter...Watercolor 2010

Why do people always say "everything happens for a reason" to make you feel better? I mean, I even say it to myself to talk myself down from the proverbial ledge that I feel like I am constantly "hanging ten" from. While I do believe in destiny and the notion of "everything happens for a reason"...why do people say it ALL the time. Do they really believe that every mishap, missed opportunity, misadventure is laid forth for each of us? I guess I grew up believing that we make our own destiny. There is definitely a "path" but our choices make our lives what they are...sometimes it's chance and sometimes there is indeed a reason. But my question is this...is there a reason I eat soup for lunch on a 100+ degree summer day? Yes, I love soup and well...it's easy. Is there a reason I argue with Mr. Smith about finances and purchases? Yes, because we need more money and...I need more stuff. Is there a reason he broke your heart? Yes, he didn't like you anymore and...never really did. I guess maybe my above interpretations of the free flowing quip are possibly too literal but I just think it odd that it's only used as a coping device...something to get you through the ebbs...to fix things...so to speak. When I say "wow, I'm tired" and decide to go to bed at night no one ever says..."everything happens for a reason". When I'm standing in the grocery trying to coax my toddler to let go of the gigantic juice display...no one ever looks down at me with sweet eyes...knowing my struggle and inevitable outcome if my toddler's hand continues to pull...and says..."everything happens for a reason". Why is that? Why do we seek to qualify everything that goes sour in our life? And...better yet, why do we feel better when we say it? Why is it the dry-erase of phrases? Why does it have the power to make things better...make the disappointment...hurt...and pain go away? Why does it "fix" you? Is it because we are always looking for the good in things? While thinking about this phenomenon, I have come to realize that if everything really does happen for a reason then why don't we always know what the reason is...or was? If it happens for a reason and we never know what the reason was then how do we know there was a reason at all? So, I say this...we need to stop looking for the reason, start living with the consequences of our choices, mishaps, misadventures, and missed opportunities and start learning from our mistakes and believing in ourselves...because apparently the answers aren't always listed upside down in the lower left corner of the page. Now...I wrote this for a reason...wonder what it is? For a quick "fix" click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skUJ-B6oVDQ above image credit: kamilla beckett