Photos, week 5 through January

Yay, we made it through January!

Jan. 22. Blue sky!

Jan. 23. This was intentional, on "blur"pose, if you will. I pulled away my phone as I pressed the button.

Jan. 24. Samuel makes no-bakes, a cookie staple here. I once asked toddler Samuel if we should make no-bakes, and he said we couldn't because Emma wasn't home from school yet. He'd never seen me make them, so assumed I didn't know how. Now he knows how -- because Emma taught him, naturally.

Jan. 25. Melting snow bursts out of rainspout.

Jan. 26.

Jan. 27. I love that Jeff loves making Sunday dinner.

Jan. 28. Aha! We're finding many playthings as the snow melts.

Jan. 29. Icy puddle. 

Jan. 30

Jan. 31

Photos, week 3

Jan. 15. Stuck. I know just how it feels.

Jan. 16. I'm allowed to walk to school if I'm this far behind Samuel.

Jan. 17. Our new conversation spot. The day before, when I picked up Elise from ballet, she was still telling me a story when we pulled into the garage, so we stayed in the car to finish it. This day she bounded into the garage as I pulled in from the grocery store (she had come home from school while I was gone). She opened the car and sat inside. She bubbled over with news from her English class. Did I know Truman Capote was rumored to have written parts of To Kill a Mockingbird?! 

Jan. 18

Jan. 19. I literally trip over this music stand of violin pieces every day, and figuratively trip over the accompaniment.

Jan. 20

Jan. 21

Photos, week 2

Second week in, I'm already in the doldrums. Samuel transformed this week from willing subject to angry, arm-waving camera pusher, so I was banned from capturing his dad helping fasten his tie -- something symbolic to me the day of Samuel's priesthood ordination. You'd think I was the paparazzi the way he revolted. James also won't let me photograph him. The charming scene of his phone on the piano music stand and his playing by ear(bud) is relegated to a mental image only. Sigh. And my stricture to not edit is exposing (ah, a pun!) lots of weaknesses. So many "so close" efforts.

Still, this project is good for me in helping me find beauty in the ordinary or, even, in the gloom.

Jan. 8. Rubik's cube in motion.

Jan. 9

Jan. 10. Meh. The fog was like a filter, making the brown branches appear green or purple. 

Jan. 11. I took advantage of having Elise join me on my walk. She shares my word-nerd sensibilities. Where's punctuation when you need it?

Jan. 12. Just a little light house-cleaning.

Jan. 13. That's a lot of candles. Kyle turned 23 on the 11th and celebrated with us Sunday. 

Jan. 14

New photo project, week 1

Hi, there. I'm brushing the dust off this blog to use it as a tool in my latest get-through-January campaign. I need creative outlets and have missed taking pictures, so decided to do a daily photo project again. Independently, I set a goal to do something outside every day. While I didn't intend it, these two goals have a symbiotic relationship. I'm more likely to get a picture if I go outside (because my typical days alone at home are BORING, move along, nothing to see here), and I'm more likely to go for a walk if I have a purpose. My leisurely walks aren't raising my heart rate, but they are raising my spirits.

I set some parameters to challenge myself: NO EDITING! Not even cropping. These are straight out of the camera, and taken with manual settings. A couple in this first batch (I'll post once a week) are from my phone. It's not great quality, but I had it on me when I didn't have my camera, and felt those images were worthy to document.

Jan. 1. Samuel sledding.

Jan. 2.

Jan. 3.  Three sets of concentrating eyes: Elise, her teacher and Beethoven. Elise was pulling Bach from memory. Phone.

Jan. 4. It was fun to watch the horses a bit and have them eventually come toward me. I imagined capturing their cold-enhanced, cloudy breathing when I set out on my walk, but that didn't materialize.

Jan. 5. Samuel's science fair project of measuring solubility.

Jan. 6. Snow break after Samuel's first deacon duty of clearing driveways. The snow was so heavy! Phone.

Jan. 7. Self-portrait.

What would Alanis say?

I got on the internet this afternoon to look for the source of a saying I shared in a church conversation today. "Oh, can I quote you on that?" my bishop asked. "Well, it was actually said by someone else first ... one of the Roosevelts ... FDR maybe? ... or was it Winston Churchill?" I asked in response. "I'll find out."

So I got onto the computer for that task, but first I looked up the name of a childhood acquaintance, because she was on my mind. The web had much to offer about her accomplishments, peppered with glamorous pictures and interviews that showcased her wit. I read her Twitter feed and found her fascinating. This got me thinking about other people I knew long ago -- did they also have impressive resumes I could unearth? They did, and I found them. I am happy for their successes, really I am, but all this made me feel a little wistful that not only have I not accomplished what they have, I never considered it. On another day I could say I'm living my dream of raising children, but today this exercise peering into others' lives made me question if my dreams, too, weren't up to snuff.

When I got up from the computer to do something -- please, anything -- else, I remembered my original purpose in sitting at the keyboard. By golly, that Theodore Roosevelt had it right. "Comparison is the thief of joy."

Can-do attitudes

These are the pictures from Emma's staging rehearsal on Thursday, June 18. Her dance was titled "Toulouse-Lautrec" and was a vibrant rendition of the type of scenes the artist created with paint. It's challenging enough for me to focus and take photographs of such a high-energy dance; can you imagine capturing the motion and physicality with brush strokes? Gives me a greater appreciation.

The music was to Offenbach's "Cancan," with special punctuation from those swishy skirts. I loved it! The audience applauded during the middle of the dance when the dancers latch on to their partner's high kick and twirl together. (Not the best photo, but you get the idea.) Emma told me later that the audience's reaction to this move surprised and motivated her all at once. It was exhilarating for her.

Instruction from her teacher.

Emma colored her light pink pointe shoes with a permanent marker to make them black. The process took a few days and seemed a welcome diversion from homework. Then she used a lighter to seal frayed threads. She sewed the new black ribbons on herself.

Here she is in the dressing room at Saturday's matinee performance. I lucked out that my ticket at the far right of the row allowed me to sneak into the room during the break between halves of the performance (while the orchestra set up), and take her picture in full costume. The real luck, however, is that she asked me to come down. It was funny to have someone else sitting in my seat when I returned to the auditorium. Shoo!

Aunt Eryn, Grandma and Aunt Katie came to see the Saturday matinee. Thank you! 

How does THIS come from THIS?

Grandma Shirley came to Emma's staging rehearsal Thursday morning, then stayed the day with us and attended Elise's recital that night with my dad. It was crazy having the girls in different casts. 

 Grandma Hatch, Aunt Katie, Grandma Shirley, Grandpa Jim, Elise.

At Thursday night's recital, high in our balcony seats, I pointed to stage right and whispered in my dad's ear which dancer was Elise -- or at least which one I thought was her. No wait, I said, swinging my arm the other way, she's the one who just fell! Oh, no. I couldn't believe it. Whereas my eyes couldn't confidently pick her out that far away, my mother's heart immediately focused when she stumbled. I was so worried how this would affect her. I wanted to hug her right then. This is a BIG production, with live orchestra and in a college auditorium that seats hundreds. Lots of eyes to see. My beautiful dancer popped right up. Her smile on stage never dimmed.

Even from my high vantage I could see a gleam of silver on the floor. An advanced dancer fell during the next dance -- in the same spot.

To better navigate the stairs, we took some time after the performance ended to let the crowd disperse before we left the balcony. I told my parents that this could be either one of two extremes: that she could brush it off with a laugh, or that it would hurt her deeply. I wasn't sure which would greet us. Elise and I reached the front doors from different angles at the same time. "I want to go home!" she pleaded. She was trying so hard to hold it together. I wrapped her in a hug while she sobbed.

As soon as I broke away a sweet woman in my ward, one of the mothers who carpools with us to ballet, came bearing flowers. She hugged Elise fiercely and said, "The most beautiful part of that dance was seeing you get back up." I'm teary thinking about this two weeks later. I am so grateful to her.

Many other people were kind, just in a slightly more awkward way. "Elise! I didn't even see you fall!" chirped one girl from our neighborhood. Then a woman we don't know lingered near our group. "I don't know what everyone's talking about, you falling," she said loudly. Uh, ok. Elise did her best to be gracious. 

It was Grandpa Jim for the win who said maybe he'd drive back home with Grandma (they came in two trips) and leave his red convertible for Elise. That got her smiling again. Thanks, Dad!

Once home I was in the living room talking to Emma while Elise took a shower. I heard the water stop. Elise opened the door and hollered, "Mom, don't forget to register me for next year's ballet. You have to do it by tonight!" Then the door clicked and we heard water once more, because this announcement came mid-shower! Emma sighed in relief. "She's going to be OK."