missus glass and her photos

Tis the Season

2010-04-19T15:49:00.000-07:00

I wish I could accurately describe the excitement that I feel when I see a neon sign posted to a telephone pole or staked on the street corner; the ones that display proud dark arrows and guide you directly to hidden treasure. Yes ladies and gentlemen, yard sale season is here again. I saw the first sign last weekend and was reassured that spring had indeed come. Yesterday our good friend Beth accompanied Ben and I on a day's outing to Wilmington for some fishing and yummy grilled food with his parents. Just a mile from his house we happened upon a gigantic yard full of things for sale. The hunt is what I love. And then the bartering - which is left to my Aunt Carol when I'm with her because no one is better than she at bringing down the price. [aside: I've been under her tutelage since 1993 and still have much to learn from her]. Amidst the old Christmas decorations and used VHS I stumbled upon a beautiful Kodak Duaflex ii.

Five dollars later I was it's proud owner. Just ordered some film for it and plan on trying it out this weekend for some engagement portraits!

While it's totally acceptable and enjoyable to sale without a plan or purpose, I am on the lookout for a few items this summer:

I would love to find a tiny little blackboard to hang in the kitchen for list keeping and such.

Also, I've been craving a good cup of tea - but more so craving a good little piece of pretty china. Nothing fancy, just delicate and unique.

The guests at our wedding reception enjoyed homemade soups on fine china that we borrowed (that's right, she let us borrow 150+ fine china plates), from one of Dayton's premier shoppes The Gathering Basket and the sweet owner, Angie, gave me the beautiful plate at my setting. So I have one fabulous china plate and will be on the lookout for at least three more. Would actually prefer that they don't match.

I would LOVE to hear about your yard sale finds this summer!

Dear Neglected Blog

2010-04-18T06:17:00.001-07:00

I realize that as of late I have been neglectful towards this, my first and dear blog. My apologies. Spring has [somewhat] sprung here in good ol' Columbus. We had some fabulous spring weather this past week only to be left speechless on the sidewalk yesterday in 45 degree weather... I packed away my winter clothes one sunny day about a month ago with the logic that if they were unaccessible, I wouldn't need them any longer. Circumstance has undermined such logic. Nonetheless, I can say without at doubt that I've never been so grateful and so ready for the sights and smells and sounds of spring. It's good to see green again.

Ben and I have been just as busy as the coming spring time -- He's well into the last quarter of his first year of grad school. Just as his schedule begins to wind down mine will pick up. I've got seven weddings booked this summer from Michigan to Ohio to Tennessee to Alabama and will be second-shooting for a local company. I couldn't be more excited about the upcoming wedding season! Just did some engagement shots for a couple getting married in Columbus in June

But let me back-track a bit to catch you up on things since our snow man. My sweet friends Rose and Claire came up for a quick visit in the middle of February. We'd been planning to start a shared blog which would serve as a means to stay in touch and stay creative. You can visit the blog here and read all about the 100 new things we each want to do over a set period of time -- It's been a blast and began with a fabulous photo shoot during their February visit. [I realize this may seem like the new baby in a momma's life and therefore the reason why I've neglected this first, older blog. But nay. I promise we've just been super busy]. Here's a taste of the fun we had that day

www.redbrownblonde.blogspot.com

A week later I escaped snowy Ohio for a week's time and enjoyed a surplus of sunshine in St. John with my mom, sister, aunt and grandma as we stayed with our generous hosts Mama and Papa Glass. It was so great to be away with everyone for even a short time. I've been listening to Kenny Chesney nonstop since my return.

The weekend I returned from paradise, I took part in a photography exhibit in our church. Myself and two other photographers showed work that portrayed patience. For two months leading up to the show I experimented (and failed several times) with an old polaroid sharp shooter. It was a great experience and definitely stretched my skill level - This is one of the polaroids displayed. Our friends Jake and Nichole now have an adorable little boy named Atlee.

Last November Ben was accepted to 32 Poems, a journal out of Texas Tech. They only publish 64 poems a year- sweet right?! The week we received the publication two more of his poems were accepted to Tar River Poetry out of North Carolina. He's such a little writer!

Somewhere along the lines our car got broken into and the stereo was taken - that was a bummer. Then someone helped themselves to a grand out of our banking account... All is working out though- just a few little bumps along the way.

We spent Easter with Ben's family in Wilmington. It was good to be together again. Easter is one of those holidays that seems to be even more fun when there are little ones - and there are four! We decorated cupcakes, had an egg hunt, played some corn hole and shot bee-bee guns.

I recently finished a non-fiction book called The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan who gives a very vulnerable, honest and somewhat witty account of her struggle with breast cancer and her father's simultaneous fight with bladder cancer. Would recommend it to anyone, but especially if you or your loved one has experienced this emotional rollar coaster. I'm also reading Eat Pray Love -- it's interesting and I plan on finishing it (hoping to see the movie this summer, too), but will admit that at times I find it a bit slow. My sister-in-law was proudly toting around Dolly Parton's autobiography which admittedly sounds fascinating - maybe that's next on the reading list...?

Got this great cookbook yesterday at a library sale for one dollar! It's an alphabetical all-you-need-to-know about cooking and I've already learned a lot. "Clever Cook's Kitchen Handbook:" Love it.

Hopefully it won't be this long before we meet again little blog.

One Must Have a Mind of Winter

2010-02-09T16:54:00.000-08:00

The most disappointing thing about big girl world, to date, is that there are no snow days. It's particularly disappointing now that I live in a state that actually accumulates a significant amount of white powder. It started snowing sometime in the middle of the night, and hasn't stopped. Almost 16 hours of flakes that have no intention of ceasing until tomorrow night. Fortunately, these flakes are prime snow man flakes. After work, I made my way to various stores looking for gloves. I admit that I'm a bit late in the season, but I was shocked to be informed by multiple places that they were out of gloves. They offered me bathing suits instead. I then picked an exhausted husband up from school; he and his bike and his headache were waiting for me outside when I pulled up. I let him rest and gave him some Midol, putting on my best "pretty please" face. We bundled up and went out back to find inches of snowy potential.

Our first attempt was far too small, so we tried again. We had a great time - it was my first snow man! He's a bit lopsided, and his poor eyes kept falling off.

We didn't officially name him, but I think "Bruce" suits him.

Ben read "The Snow Man" by Wallace Stevens, to christen our creation. The whole event was just fantastic.

One must have a mind of winter

To regard the frost and the boughs

Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time

To behold the junipers shagged with ice,

The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of January sun; and not to think

Of any misery in the sound of the wind,

In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land

Full of the same wind

That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,

And, nothing himself, beholds

Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens

02-05-08

2010-02-04T19:14:00.000-08:00

December of 2007, Ben and I had been dating for almost two years and I began a notebook full of thoughts and letters that I intended to give him on our wedding day. Part of the February 4th, 2008 entry reads: “... just think of all the adventures that lie ahead!”

The next night, some girls from the art department enjoyed an uncharacteristic night out of the studio. We shared a fantastic meal together prepared by one of our fellow students that grew up in Africa – the feast was absolutely delicious. The last three days had also been an uncharacteristic 65 degrees, and we were loving every minute of this midwinter sunshine. The weathermen suggested some possible storms, but we brushed them off as precautionary warning. We watched some clouds roll in and traded tornado stories while we enjoyed the chicken curry with the door and windows open. My old room mate Rose and I laughed as we expressed what a good last meal this would be.

Our university was settled just off Highway 40, half way between Memphis and Nashville; we'd been under tornado watches and warning countless times. The sirens would go off in the city and in our dorm rooms, so we'd spend a few minutes in the bathtub talking about the homework we still had to finish. If nothing had progressed within five minutes, we'd flip on the weather channel, pop some popcorn, duct tape a pillow over the intercom and go back to work.

I called my mom after dinner, just to let her know the weather was being a bit funny. I knew if she had heard it from her weatherman, and not from me, I'd be in trouble. I told her not to worry and we'd talk soon. After supper, we migrated back to art studio and picked up on our various projects. A fellow student turned the radio on and we listened as our county was among the ones under watch. We worked in the studio until someone stepped outside to hear the sirens going off and a bit of rain start to fall, at which point several of us gathered our things and huddled under two umbrellas as we made our way back to our dorm rooms.

Rose poured me a glass of milk while I closed all the blinds, knowing the RA would be around soon to make sure we were in the bathroom... We sat in front of the TV and heard about a touchdown in Memphis, just an hour south of us, and a sighting of two more. We pulled out some oreos. It wasn't long before the lights began to flicker, but they didn't go off. We transplanted ourselves and our sweet snacks to Rose's room which faced the courtyard between the girls and boys housing complexes. We laughed as we remembered our first tornado siren experience during our freshman year. We five room mates lived on the second story, so we obediently made our way downstairs to find our neighbors huddled in the tiny bathroom, yelling for us to get in fast or they would shut the door. Things looked a bit tight in the bathroom with five girls already fighting for room in the tub, so we opted for the room in the back right, similar to the one Rose and I were in now. Only weeks into our first semester, the five of us took turns leaning out the large window and catching hail pieces on our tongues. Twenty minutes later, we were back in our rooms above, doing math homework.

This is Rose, you've met her before [here].

This time though, the rain let up and the wind just increased. We watched the sky turn a unique shade of hazy purple as we lounged on her bed. I glanced at the clock wondering how long we'd be quarantined; it was 7 p.m. already. A gust of wind, a small window shake and we looked out to see the several trash cans blow past. This hasn't happened before; it was supposed to be settling down by now. I had been in contact with Ben who recently snuck out of the cafeteria and back to his room. It wasn't until the patio furniture followed the trash cans that Rose quickly jumped up, “Lily, lets go.” She ran to the bath tub and I to the next bedroom to grab pillows and blankets just in time to hear shattered glass from the windows all around me. I screamed as Rose yelled my name and I ran back to the bathroom to see her crouched in the tub; then the loudest sounds of crashing and breaking and tearing I've ever heard. I had been standing in the doorway, arms full of blankets and within seconds found myself on the ground against the door. There was a warm wind of my face and silence. Absolute perfect still. My mouth was full of dirt and there was a shooting pain in my arm. There was nothing I could think or say but utter Oh, God, Oh God, Please, God. Rose, where was Rose? Rose? Lily, are you okay? Is it over? – Lily, we're okay, Jesus protected us, we're okay and we're safe. No, there's more, Rose. There's more coming. She made her way over to me and held me. I looked around. Just over Rose's silhouette I saw the tree outside our dorm room. I glanced to the right toward the front door and saw the dorm room across from us. The storm had made a doll house out of room. If there were more coming, we wouldn't make it. We sat there, with no direction in the most terrifying silence I've ever heard. I began to weep. It felt like several minutes had past before I heard something in the distance. I wished it was Ben. Ben? Where was Ben, was he ok? I had my phone in my hand just a minute ago, but no track of it now. By the third yell, I could make out my name. It came closer and closer and louder, “Lily!” The first sound to break the silence was Ben calling my name, running to find me. I yelled back, directing him through the gash in the wall where our shower unit used to be. He knelt down and embraced both Rose and I, reassuring over and over that we were okay. Once we stood, he used his headlamp to check for blood and then embraced me again – the pain shot through my arm and my back. Somehow Rose had lost one shoe; Ben went to her room to find another. She looked at me and asked 'what just happened?' After giving her a second shoe, Ben rubbed her head and found a large knot. By this time, people quietly began making their way out of their rooms, helpless, looking for any sort of direction. Swarms of boys made their way through the standing frames of the rooms, yelling girls names, helping them out of the rubble. Students were yelling to one another to make their way to the academic building which, just 300 yards away, had been untouched. We climbed over rubble and rooftop and boards and furniture until we found the sidewalk and met thousands of other students in the packed hallways. Names were being yelled, people were pushing. We made it to the main hall where the nursing students had already set up first aid stations, making bandages and wraps out of t-shirts. Trails of blood lead into the bathrooms. Rose and I sat while Ben went to look for help. “Wait, what's going on? Where is Andrew? Is he okay?” Andrew was Rose's boyfriend who she hadn't talked to for quite a while. I tried to answer her questions but had so many myself. A nursing student checked her eyes and her pulse and several other things. She was so patient and understanding; they looked at me and told me to keep talking to her. Ben paced down the hall as he tried to get a hold of my parents. “Mary, it's Ben. Are you okay? Well, it hit. It really happened, it really hit? We're okay, we're in a safer building; Lily's in a little pain but we're okay.” Administration had arrived by this time and were yelling directions down the hall. “I have to go but I'll call back soon.” I can't imagine the uncertainty and helplessness that my mother, along with every other parents felt that night, miles and miles from their children.

This is Rose's room and big window. October, 2007.

Bottom left is that window, post tornado. Bottom right is the outside of the bathroom that Rose and I were in.

Rose continued to ask the same questions. Wait, exactly what happened? I told her. Are you okay? Yes. Am I ok? Yes. Is my mom ok; does she know I'm ok? She's far way, she's ok and we're trying to call her. Where's Andrew? We're looking. Are there more tornados coming? I don't know.

This repeated for the next hour as we were directed into one classroom. We were counted and told to write our names on a list being passed around. Twenty minutes in there and then we were lead down the hallway where we sat in uncertainty for another hour. The reality sunk in for Rose when she realized she realized her shoes were different. I watched her as she stared at her feet and without a word, began to cry. She was comforted when Andrew finally found us; she asked him the same questions. Once it was decidedly safe to leave the building, we were told faculty and staff were coming to pick us up. Surrounding church members were opening their homes, too. Another hour and we heard cars weren't being allowed on campus. Five of us snuck out the back door and began walking to meet a student who was off campus and now waiting for us with his card in the shopping center across the street. It was still warm out. Sirens filled the air. We passed a large mail truck turned on it's side in the ditch. We walked until we heard someone scream Ben's name and then piled into a faculty member's mini van. Rose was asking less questions, remembering only the answers I had given to her. She and I sat in the front seat and she commented on the resemblance of our driver to Joey Fatone of N'sync. We travelled back road after back road until we reached a house with a basement. Several people were there already. We were finally able to reach Rose's mom and I was able to talk to my parents. The rest of the night was spent in the emergency room as Rose's head was examined and my arm was x-rayed. I sat by Rose's bed and we watched breaking news stories about our own university flash across the tv screen. There were still students trapped. We later learned that upon seeing the damage, the chief of police had contacted the hospital, asking they prepare room for at least two hundred bodies. Two students were trapped for several hours, but by the next day, everyone had been accounted for – not one life lost in the wake of an F-4 tornado. It was the most terrifying and the most miraculous thing I have ever experienced.

That night Rose and I slept at a fellow church member's house. I dreamt of about throwing some pots, but they kept spinning and spinning and getting off-centered, then collapsing. Our families lost no time in coming to Jackson. The next afternoon, we made our way back onto campus and reunited with faces we hadn't yet seen. There were many tearful embraces as we saw the damage in the light of day and realized just how blessed we were. The perimeter of the campus was lined with local food vendors giving away lunches, the Red Cross handing out hygiene products, and the National Guard making their rounds, assuring no one entered the unstable site. News reporters captured images and interviews as students and their families stood in lines, waiting to hear if they could re-enter their dorm rooms or look for their cars. We were able to get within two hundred feet of the room Rose and I were in and saw the piece of roofing that had punctured the siding and wall, turning the entire shower unit 90 degrees.

She was doing better, but it was months before Rose remembered details that I hadn't given her. Our teeth were chipped and broken in many places from the impact. My left arm was useless for about a month as the bruises and tissues healed – I must have raised it to protect my face. I spoke with many caring individuals over the next month, but grew weary of telling the same story and reliving the experience. One of my mom's friends called to check on me and had this to say in comfort, “Well I got the shit scared 'outta me when I was 32. Looks like you learned you're not invincible a bit earlier.” She was right. Another older gentleman told me to write it all down because one day I wouldn't remember it so clearly. So I did, and two years later, I'm glad I followed his advice.

All two story dorms - some completely leveled, others half gone, others untouched.

This is the doll-house look.

The clock tower stopped at the time the tornado hit: 7:02 p.m.

Classes resumed just two weeks after the storm had hit; it was comforting to return to a sense of predictability. Students found housing with hundreds of hospitable Jackson families that opened up their homes for the rest of the semester. Unbelievable acts of generosity were shown to the community of Union University from all around the nation and construction on the new dorm buildings began immediately. God's power was evident that night, but his grace and mercy and protection even more obvious. A few weeks following our return, we listened as Kirby Atkins spoke at church, describing the cross as a means to an end, that end being us. It was love that drove the sacrifice – it could be related to a man running into a burning building to save his wife. I wept as I had just so recently experienced that kind of love and desire from Ben – he ran into that dark silence, screaming my name. Never before had I so personally understood the state of need and helplessness that is life before Christ.

Before and after aerial view of the residence complexes. More photos can be seen here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/unionuniversity/2252802829/in/photostream/

Grandma Gleneale

2010-02-01T17:41:00.000-08:00

Grandma, Gleneale Zopfi, approx 30 years old.

My grandpa, Poppie, kept the best scrapbooks I've ever seen. Those oversized thick, string bound books that come in a variety of blue and black, proudly wearing the word “Scrapbook” on front. I remember visiting his home and finding him at the the kitchen table, book open with a carefully cut out newspaper article or a recent photo of one of the granddaughters and the smell of rubber cement in the air. He and my aunt have recently been going through these countless books, reminiscing about their time as a family in Germany, California, then Tennessee.

My dad recently came to Columbus for a visit – we enjoyed some fine eateries and a Nashville Predators/Columbus Blue Jackets hockey game. He brought along some pieces of these scrapbooks including, but not limited to, some really great photos of me and my horse taken at the peak of my awkward stage. Seriously, peak. He also brought a letter my grandfather had written, and an old tape that had been saved from my grandparent's answering machine.

We sat and listened to a few messages – one from the local bank regarding their account, one from my mom about some vinegar, and several from fellow church members expressing their concern for my grandmother. Dad informed me that around this time, she had just been admitted to the hospital. Just as I began to tear up, a squeaky quiet voice began, “Hello grandma, I just wanted to say....” These introductions came about every third message. We listened as my four year old self would carefully go into detail about the reason I was calling and then end politely “and this is Lily Anne and my number is 775-1020,” just in case they had forgotten. Most of the messages were requesting permission to come over and bake cookies. My personal favorite was the one in which I sang the intro to Little Mermaid and ended with, “Thank you, that's all.” A few from my older sister: "Grandma, could you come pick us up? Mom and Dad are being sleepy heads." I followed with a call just to say "I love you," but the message was cut off with an urgent “um, I have to go now because I have to use the bathroom.”

They lived a convenient ten minutes from our house. My mom recalls countless occasions of Grandma showing up at our front door, smiling and saying “Lily called.” And off I went to bake cookies, or help her in the garden, or play dress up with their towel collection. They had the most wonderful Lazy Boy rocking chairs and a great backyard full of delicious berries that were consumed by my older sister and I on a regular basis. There was a basket of chewy candies on the very top shelf of the kitchen cabinets and the first thing grandma would do when we entered was lift us up to pick one out. She collected owls. These nocturnal birds of all shapes and sizes decorated the walls and shelves – I found this disturbing as a small child. There were three in particular that ranged in size like Russian stacking dolls – they were made from small sea shells and had piercing eyes that followed you as you rocked back and forth in the lazy boy.

top: Poppie and Grandma with me and my older sister, Jennie at Opryland Hotel, Nashville TN

bottom left: Grandma and I taking a break from dying Easter eggs

bottom right: Poppie taking me for a ride on the sled! Yep, that's how we do it in Tennessee- even if you can still see the grass!

The letter that dad brought had been typed by Poppie eleven years ago, seven years after my grandmother's death. I imagine it was very hard to write, but he did so with an evident peace.

“Talked with her and she responded very naturally, realizing that this might be the last time we would ever have communication with her. The next morning at 10:00 I went to her bedside, spoke her name, she opened her eyes briefly, squeezed her hand but response. So Dave, Mary, Carol and I camped outside the intensive care area for the rest of the day and night. One of us was allowed to be in the room with her. Her blood pressure had gone down; 35 over 15. No struggle whatsoever – never had any pain the whole time – the the line for her heartbeat was just a straight line, and she was with the Lord. We four gathered around her in bed in a circle – held both her hands and committed her to the Lord and his keeping. Now writing this on 2/17/1999 – on January29th, she has been with the Lord for seven years. Her one brother, Clifford, had com from Wisconsin to see her about three days before her death. We also brought Jennie and Lily in to see her briefly. She could not speak, so she wrote notes – have them under plastic in my scrapbook – some are quite humorous – strictly Gleneale right down to the end.”

Too young to understand, my sister and I kept ourselves occupied with our famous bubble letter drawings and wrote notes to grandma in the waiting room at the hospital. Our cousins came down from Michigan, and together we diligently worked on a note that collectively said “I love you” in the biggest, proudest bubble letters you'd ever seen. It took all six of us to hold it up, being held up by our parents, in front of her hospital bed. I didn't know why, but she couldn't speak, so we thought the letter would be best. She smiled big and mouthed “I love you.” Those were her last words to her six granddaughters, something my family has always seen as a blessing. Poppie's letter continued:

“Lily Anne was “grandma's girl” – were together often – would phone Gleneale often and say “Grandma, can you come over and get me?” They loved to bake cookies together. At the viewing, Lily was disturbed that her Grandma was not moving. Had to explain that was just the body she lived in but that she was with the Lord Jesus in heaven. That very night Lily had a dream that she was up in Heaven with Grandma – she held her in her arms like she used to do. She said it was all beautiful up there, everything white and gold. And then Lily said “over there in the corner was the empty casket – she wasn't in there anymore, she was alive!” She told this dream to Mary the next morning. Even though Lily still missed her very much, she knew that her Grandma was alive. I still wear Gleneale's wedding ring on the little finger of my left hand-- right beside my wedding band.”

I don't remember much about the funeral except that I was pouting through most of it because I didn't get to sit in the front row, closest to Grandma. We spent the night at Poppie's house and it felt empty and unusual. I still remember the dream Poppie wrote about. I saw myself sleeping in the room we always slept in at their house – grandma woke me and lead me up the most beautiful winding trail. She gave me a personal tour of her new room and assured me that she was well and happy there. She did hold me tight and reminded me that she loved us all very much. Content, I ran back down the trail by myself and reported it all to my mom the next morning.

This past Friday was the 18th anniversary of Grandma's death. I cherish the few memories I have of our time together and still enjoy homemade chocolate chip cookies on a regular basis. Now I wear Grandma's wedding band; I couldn't have asked for a more precious, meaningful wedding gift, or for a more loving, memorable grandmother.

One Year Down... Sixty to go!

2010-01-16T19:07:00.000-08:00

Ben had been dropping little hints for about a week. “You need a bathing suit.” And double checking my work schedule every couple of days. “It's nothing big, so don't get excited.” “It's a surprise! I don't care what it is, I'm excited!” I love the anticipation that comes with a surprise. Good surprises, not bad ones that you weren't expecting that ruin your day, those are surprise disappointments. I think the joy lies in the fact that someone cares enough to plan all these little details just for you. “Do you want to know?” “No!” “What about just a hint.” “OK, give me a hint.” “.... I'm not giving hints.”

Saturday comes along and we bundle up to play with Bodie, the Border Collie mix that we were puppy-sitting, in the four inches of fresh snow. We were enjoying some hot chocolate and folding freshly laundered clothes when Ben hands me a piece of paper. It's got a photo of a tall building and a check-in time. The bag is packed, the dog is returned safely home, and in true Glass Adventure Style, we took a roll of film. We drove ten minutes into the downtown that is Columbus, Ohio... and we got lost. After dominating the one way streets, we find the majestic Hyatt and stroll right up to the check-in counter ready to be pampered. “I'm sorry, sir, it looks like you've made reservations at the other Hyatt.... It happens all the time.”

We left the fancy hotel, a little weary of what we may find at the next one. More one way streets lead us just miles from our house to the Columbus Convention Center. We pulled up to the front door and were greeted by hundreds of middle aged women with ribbons adorning their necks and baskets on their arms; the Longaberger Leader Conference was the same weekend as our one year anniversary. We recognized this mob of boisterous mom's dressed head to toe in red and yellow; they filled the streets the week we moved into Columbus. Encountering them a second time was no less terrifying.

Round two at the check-in desk and we are surrounded by groups of high school kids laughing and playing games. Their conference was more difficult to pinpoint. A sign informed us that the Model United Nations was being held the next morning. Ben told me he had requested a room with a view, and as our keys were printed out, we were pleased with the 1944 printed on them. The window ran the width of the giant room, providing a 19th story view of south downtown Columbus.

Somehow we managed to steer clear of the two conferences and enjoyed some chocolate covered strawberries and champagne as we watched the sun (which we hadn't seen in two weeks), go down over the city.

We made reservations at a fancy Italian restaurant just down the road – Martini's – where I enjoyed a fabulous ravioli and listened to Ben's endless wine analogies. “it's like (swirl), I'm on a plane – (sniff, sip, swallow), the take off was exciting, but not as good as the ride....(repeat), I am sad that I've landed...”

A brisk walk back to the hotel and I enjoyed a margarita while we watched a movie high over the city. We woke up to more snow, but enjoyed it from a new 19th story perspective as individual flakes fell onto the windowsill. They really are all different! It was a perfect little get away for two people who didn't have much time to get away, and so carefully planned by my sweet, sweet husband. I care more about this man than I ever thought possible, and he loves and serves me more than I could ever have hoped for. Here's to years more, Ben Glass.

Interactive Christmas Card!

2010-01-05T08:08:00.000-08:00

Ben and I will be ringing (okay, we rang...), in the new year with some home made mashed potatoes, broiled flank steak and an ancho chile dip.

Don't worry, there will be champagne – that is if I can get Ben to stay up past ten.

We don't have a dog yet, or a baby, so I didn't think twice about sending out a Christmas card this year and immediately regretted the decision the second we received our first jolly greeting in the mail. So consider this an online, interactive Christmas greeting card in place of the one you didn't get from us – complete with photo illustrations – to look back on the last (inaugural) year in the Glass household(s).

Just days after my graduation mid-December, 2008, Ben and I celebrated our last holiday apart. He with his family in Ohio (all sick with the flu), and I with my family in East Tennessee. The countdown to our wedding had been on for months, but we were in double digits now – only ten days away as last year's ball dropped and the calendar page flipped to January. We started the year off in Louisville as our good friend's Tiffany and Josh got married, just a week before Ben and I.

We travelled back to Tennessee immediately to finish all the last minute details. Friends and family arrived, bows were tied and flowers arranged. We lost one tent...

But somehow were able to find another. We became Mister and Missus Glass in the barn on my aunt's property surrounded by our families.

A short drive up the hill and we were greeted by friends and good home-made soups where we danced and ate cake. The whole day was absolutely perfect!

A honeymoon in Hilton Head and then we set up our first apartment on campus in married housing at Union University while Ben began his last semester of undergraduate. A few weeks of job hunting resulted in one of the most enjoyable jobs I've ever had – I was one of four receptionists at a local day spa which employed twenty three fabulous women and one fantastic guy. I dealt with extremely content, relaxed and pampered individuals while surrounded with the most therapeutic sounds and aromas. Ben put up with lots of experimental recipes and did lots of dishes, usually welcoming me home from work with fresh baked cookies. I think we went through five of those huge tubs of cookie dough in the first three months of marriage. My twenty second birthday involved blindfolds and the James Bond theme music as I was kidnapped by Ben and Rose who drove me around and dropped me off in the middle of a kitchen surrounded by friends and good food.

Spring break rolled around and we got to visit Mama and Papa Glass in St. John for a week.

We had lots of fun dinners with friends, celebrating each time Ben heard back from a potential grad school. We had pizza for UNC and pasta for OSU. We visited The Ohio State University on the absolute coldest day of the year, and he was impressed, nonetheless. While he visited with scholars and poets, I self-toured what I now know to be the roughest parts of the city wondering what we were getting into. Ben accepted Ohio State's offer in March. We welcomed a new nephew into the family in May; Ben's older sister had her second baby boy, Casey.

We shoved the last box in the U-Haul just hours before Ben graduated, Magna Cum Laude – Ohio Bound.

After one fabulous Zopfi family cruise to Alaska which involved icebergs, orcas, humpbacks, black bears and a wedding...

....we headed cross continent for a quick visit to see Rufus in Florida.

And then we sold my car.... tragic.

Two weeks of apartment hunting in Columbus were followed by a month of job-hunting. Our welcome to Columbus was a bit rocky...

We moved in the weekend of the 4th of July, which meant everyone was on vacation, including the gas company. No hot water for a week. Ben's car windshield cracked and began leaking. The ceiling in the bathroom had quite the gash, which we were told doesn't leak and would be fixed soon. The first major rainstorm proved that the gash does indeed leak. Thankfully, it was positioned directly over the bath tub. Our 350lb washer broke... My computer crashed and I lost every photo memory of the afore mentioned year's activities. Please take a moment to imagine what kind of emotional breakdown that caused. My car began overheating on a regular basis... Little by little things came together and the new city began to grow on us.

Our lack of responsibilities allowed us to take a weekend in Tennessee where three of my dearest girlfriends met us to celebrate my brother-in-laws birthday– the event became affectionately known as Randy Rice's Birthday Extravaganza (crossing my fingers that this will be an annual event).

I landed a commissioned photo project through a nightlife online directory which required me to snap photos of 900+ restaurants and venues around Columbus. This occupied us for two weeks and conveniently, left us quite acquainted with the city. Ben began preparing for grad school and I trained as a part time barista at a local independent coffeehouse coming home absolutely wired for the first few days as I tried every drink on the menu. A quick trip to Nashville to celebrate the marriage of one of my dearest friends, Rose Rogers, then back to Ohio.

We celebrated Ben's first day of school with a fantastic meal and he dove head first into his course theme of the American Cowboy.

First day of school picture:

I stumbled upon an internship opportunity at a local commercial photography studio and was accepted for the twelve week position, learning a lot of the inner workings of such a big operation. Ben's maternal grandmother, 'Grandma Betty' was diagnosed with breast cancer just days before his birthday. We celebrated his 23rd year with his favorite take and bake pizza, and received updates about his grandmother who underwent a mastectomy just days after. I shot a beautiful friend's wedding in Alabama late October and decided to swing by the old homestead (Tennessee), on the way back to Ohio.

I was met by my strong, optimistic mother who told me of a lump in her right breast she had checked out just that week. The results were back the next day- a very rare type of tumor usually found in the thigh area, rarely malignant. Being just as unique as the woman it inhabited, the tumor was in fact malignant and in her breast, growing rapidly. Within two weeks, the surgery was scheduled and a mastectomy removed any suspicious cells.

Ben and I celebrated Thanksgiving with his family in Wilmington, Ohio. That same day, we got the good news that no further treatment was required for Mom, and Grandma Betty would take a daily, low dose chemotherapy pill, which should have very little side effects. Last Thanksgiving, we had a gingerbread house competition - this year we decorated shirts for the family Christmas card!

It felt like there was no time in between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Ben got great reviews from his students for his first quarter of teaching and I was offered a job at the commercial photo studio! We were able to spend a week in Tennessee for Christmas. We spent Christmas Eve at dad's place and celebrated Christmas Day with some dear friends, Shannon and Jason, who have been selflessly helping Mom out during her recovery. Conveniently for us, Shannon and Jason have a catering business, so I'll just let you imagine how good our Christmas dinner was.

Shannon taught us how to make banana's foster. Oh, she also makes the best margaritas you've ever tasted.

We spent two days with Ben's family and then settled back in our apartment for our first New Years together. Around 7p.m., New Year's Eve, we connected our television for the first time since May. Somehow, Ben was moved with enough compassion to stay awake until midnight with me. We slept in a bit and spent the entire first day of the year on the couch, entertained by Saturday Night Live sketches and our first ever Ohio State Football game -- they defeated the Oregon Ducks in the Rose Bowl! This unprecedented lazy day lead to one conclusion: we need a bigger couch.

It's been snowing for six consecutive days now. Ben rides his bike to school all bundled up like the kid from A Christmas Story. Should he skid and fall off his bike, I expect him to just bounce right back up.
Yesterday, he went back to class and I started my new job at the commercial photo studio, Roharik Productions, as studio manager.

We have been married for 360 days. It's hard to believe that it's been a whole year, but I can honestly say that it's been one of the best. Despite all the changes and bumps along the way, God has been more than merciful and faithful, and Ben has been a constant comfort. Here's to hoping that we'll have a dog by next Christmas so we can send out a real card...

Happy New Year to you all!

When I Grow Up

2009-11-30T17:11:00.000-08:00

You can do anything for a year. These are the words of my old college professor who exhorted, from experience, that you can stick anything out for that amount of time. So what's four months, or four weeks? A sinch? I'm having trouble with one day. I enjoy the stage of life we're at right now, but am antsy to do something. The worst part is, I'm not sure what that something may be, and therein lies the problem. I don't know that there is one thing I want to do. In fact, I am certain that there are a myriad of things I would enjoy doing or being – but alas, I've only got so much time. I can't go back to school to study journalism while I memorize my lines as the lead role in the upcoming community musical, Seven Brides For Seven Brothers. We've only got so much room in this one-bedroom apartment; I suppose I could clear out the washer and dryer and use that space for a potter's wheel and drying rack but I doubt our landlord would be so gung-ho over my keeping a kiln in the kitchen on account of the fact that a previous tenant caught the place on fire just five years ago. Plus, my dust-covered clothing would only inhibit my need-be immaculate work in my personal darkroom. And if the kitchen is full of clay equipment, where would my letterpress fit? Being that I'm most creative and productive in the evening hours, my bakery full of every sweet and delicious pastry you could imagine would suffer due to my lack of sleep and therefore lack of judgement whilst preparing the day's goodies at 4 a.m. I pass stores like Banana Republic and Ann Taylor and fantasize about having a career that requires me to wear fabulously professional clothing and pretty shoes, but that doesn't last long. The idea of doing someone else's work for the rest of my life is one of the most discouraging thoughts. (Thanks, Mom and Dad, entrepreneurs extraordinaire). My professional yard saling business could easily be run on the side to any other profession as it's seasonal and just two days a week. But then there's the issue of running the quaint little shop that holds the unique and fabulous yard sale finds... Those strength assessment tests you're forced to take in high school always told me that I should become a florist, which wouldn't be so bad except the test didn't take my allergies into consideration, and I don't think I would want to work in a profession so closely tied to funerals. We can't forget to schedule the year that I would dedicate to my rock and roll band tour – just the continental USA, to begin with. And the monthly food critic write ups of fabulous dishes at fantastic restaurants. There's the summer in Ocracoke, North Carolina to squeeze in, not to mention the majority of Europe which Ben and I plan on exploring while he writes and writes and I eat and eat, snapping an occasional photo for our coffee table book collaboration. Somewhere along the line I'd like to have a family, and I hear those take up some time. I'm certain that my up and coming film would only benefit from such diverse life experiences and inevitable connections that I'll have made along the way. At least I've got time before I begin working on my memoir, which is certain to be entertaining. (Ben has instructed me that usually the writer waits for certain individuals to pass on before revealing all the good juicy stuff, but don't worry, I'm taking notes along the way). Really, I don't think it's an issue of time. With enough motivation, the majority of these things could be accomplished (some after hours and hours of vocal training...), it's just that I do like to eat, and as much as Ben doesn't, he sees the necessity in it. So for a while, at least, I'll continue to march alongside (or a bit before), the millions of early riser, nine-to-fiver population and be grateful to be employed at all. But don't think I'm not weighing my options all the while.

Meet Rufus...

2009-10-21T09:24:00.000-07:00

Ben got lots of great birthday mail over the weekend, including a sweet card from my maternal grandma, affectionately known as Rufus. She's one of those people that you'll never forget once you spend any amount of time with. Lately I've been toying with the idea of somehow celebrating some of the best people I know, and talking to her on the phone last week convinced me to do so. I called her up to thank her and catch up on her life in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. She was born and raised there, seen a lot of change. Since high school, her girlfriends have called her Rufus, a nickname they derived from Ruth. And when my mom was pregnant with my older sister, Rufus thought “Grandma” sounded too old, thus insisting on being called Rufus. Rightly so, because Rufus is unlike any grandmother that I've ever met. Just last summer she went jet-skiing with us.

There is a certain smell that takes me back to her Pompano homestead; a mixture of clementines, sweetness, baked goodies, and the smell of a kitchen late in the day when it's filled with the sun's last rays. Every now and again, in the early morning just after Ben's finished his coffee, there's a remnant of that nostalgic, comforting aroma and I cling to him in effort to take it all in.

The woman is amazing. She raised four fabulous children, giving each one the same pug nose and almond shaped eyes – my own mother being the second oldest and the spitting image of her. Rufus made all their clothes, polka dots being the preferred pattern. The excitement about said pattern is written all over their faces in family photos. My favorite story consists of Rufus chasing my Aunt Liz around the kitchen table in effort to punish her for her most recent creative and mischievous doing. In one quick, defensive swoop, Aunt Liz grabbed my mother, who was followed by my uncle, and the four ran around the kitchen table until Rufus was laughing so hard she had to dismiss herself to the restroom. Punishment successfully averted.

As children, my sister and I were carefully packed into the car along with the luggage and selected Christmas presents when it was still dark out. We slept for the better part of the fourteen hour drive from Tennessee to south Florida, keeping ourselves distracted with bubble letter drawings that said things like “I love you” or “Merry Christmas” that we would proudly present to Rufus and Papa amongst arrival. Our anticipation grew with the first sighting of Palm trees (which my older sister called Pampano trees for years). There was something magical about this far-away place that was warm at Christmas time. The driveway to their house felt at least two miles long. We would gather our drawings, throw on our shoes and push our faces against the window knowing that as we pulled up, that big wooden door would swing open and we'd hear a familiar “YoooWhooo!” They had a gigantic lawn with real grass and the largest ant population I'd ever encountered. There was a mysterious warehouse in the back that contained all sorts of goodies we didn't care much about back then. Rows and rows of things piled on top of one another, waiting for the day they'd be used again. Bicycles, type writers, tools, luggage bags and other things that set off my allergies. She's in a different house now, but the same greeting occurs with every visit. I drove by the old house last time I was down to find that the driveway and the warehouse had shrunk significantly.

There is a perpetual lemon iced pound cake in her kitchen and a brunswick stew in the refrigerator. She used to slip money in our pockets when we were done doing the dishes after a big family meal. Her coffee is made with a percolator every morning and she drinks out of rose china. She has a glass of wine every night and when I visit, we watch old movies. She brushes her teeth with baking soda, which I never understood when I was little. Each time I'm down, we set aside one morning to go see the sunrise at the beach. We share a delightful breakfast at a nearby cafe in the same booth next to a large open window. I flipped through her desk calendar once to see that every family member's birthday was clearly marked, with a reminder four days in advance to send a card. She is affectionately known as the family girl scout because when she travels, her suitcase is packed, days in advance, with outfits bagged and labeled according to their contents. Her medicine cabinet is the same. Her garage is no different. She knows exactly where everything is. My great-grandmother labeled all her belongings with a permanent marker and some masking tape with the name of the individual whom she wanted the item to go to once she passed on. Earlier this year Rufus gave me some fabulous old mason jars to take home. As I was unpacking them and filling them with my carefully selected items, I turned a lid over to find the words “All mason jars to Lily Anne” typed on a label and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

We talk a lot when I visit. I was down for a few days one winter when Ben and I had recently broken up. She had been all caught up on our drama and met me at the door to hold me tight as I returned from the porch after a long phone conversation. I told her what I'd told him, that I just needed some space and time to think, so please stop calling me. She continued to hold me tight but sighed and said “Oh! Poor boy!” She's that kind of wonderful. The kind that can hold you tight but tell you the hard stuff that you need to hear, but don't really want to hear. She's the first to cry with you and the first to laugh with you. And when she laughs, she laughs hard. She has one of those fabulous giggles that becomes silent as the intensity increases and her body just bobbles up and down, her eyes squinted. Her whit is quick and it's not unusual for the group of us to end up bent over, side aching, and dabbing our eyes for the tears that our laughter has brought as a result of any given dinner conversation. And she's honest, too. Sometimes brutally, but you know she means well when she tells you that the sweater you're wearing would look better on someone else. She's so full of wisdom and understanding, an obvious byproduct of years of experience. I feel blessed to have had twenty two years with this woman to know her as a grandma with a mean pound cake, but also as a intelligent, poised woman with a lot to learn from.

see those squinty eyes? and that's my mom- told you, spitting image.

We eat a lot, too. Rufus is one of the best cooks I know. One flip through her recipe binder, and you'll see notes scratched on every single one, improving the recipe with every trial. In addition to the cake and stew, a seven layer salad is always prepared before our visits. I recently learned that just after she was married, she approached her next door neighbor and asked if she would teach her how to cook, because she didn't know where to start. Now look at her.

Marriage. When I asked her one visit how she and Papa met, she giggled before elaborating. He was a handsome older gentleman from Massachusetts trying his hand at bar-tending in a warmer climate. As he was examining the cigarette selection in the nearby vending machine, she was examining him. My feisty, confident grandmother, who had never smoked a cigarette in her life, turned to her friends and said, “I think I need a smoke, ladies.” I can see her now, blonde bombshell strutting over in her stilettos, it wouldn't take much more than that. A year later, and they were married. Fifty years, four kids, and eight grandkids later, she had a lung removed due to cancer...

These were both taken around age 19. How do you ignore that, right?

And when did we stop looking glamorous on a daily basis?

Papa was an Irishman with the red hair and the short temper to prove it. His scratchy, strong voice always greeted us with a “Hi-ya” and for years a little snappy white dog he called Mister adorned his lap and clung to his side. And then there were his eyebrows; corse, salt and pepper decorations that took up one-fourth of his forehead. He studied fashion design and just recently we've been able to recover some of his beautiful illustrations. There's a whole wall in our kitchen bare and neglected, just waiting for the prints to be framed. I'm the only one of eight grandkids with the red hair. Once when we were reminiscing about Papa, Rufus' face became soft and content and she looked at me the way moms and grandmothers look at you when they become sentimental and said, “You have his eyes .” I love that. Here's to hoping I don't inherit his eyebrows.

The year I was born, Papa began to show signs of dementia. One of my first memories of Papa consists of him holding a large snake around his shoulders at the zoo. I told Rufus this once and she giggled, remembering that as one of the first red flags that something must be wrong... The Alzheimer's got worse, making the house harder to find after a walk, and continued until even his own son became a stranger to him. It was hard to watch, but even harder to understand at a young age. The next fifteen years were difficult ones as the family struggled to care for and love this man in the best way possible. Life has been full of ups and downs, trials and celebrations. She is one of the strongest women I know, and she's candid about her mistakes, but always concludes with a thankful heart full of appreciation for the grace she's received. I wanna be just like her when I grow up.

She still lives in West Palm Beach and shares dinners with my Aunt Liz and her little boy Sterling on a weekly basis. They venture up to Tennessee a couple times a year (pound cake in-tow), and we share good laughs among the rolling hills of the south. We'll be heading down to Florida for Christmas this year, for the first time in a long time. The trip and the driveway are shorter, but the times still as sweet and even more cherished.

Needless to say, she's taught me quite a bit. Just last visit I learned that it's possible to over-beat a cake batter. Egg shells are good for your plants -- who knew? Don't wear stilettos, she says, you'll pay for it when you're sixty. Don't smoke cigarettes, you'll pay for it when you're seventy. You can't take too many vitamins. Bubble baths are an appropriate way to end any day. We've been given a lot of grace, so we should give it to others. One can never be too organized. Laughing and crying and then laughing again in the same conversation is completely acceptable and sometimes necessary. We are so blessed. Fiesta ware is virtually indestructible. Dear friends are hard to find, but once you find them, you do all that's in your might to keep them close. You can never own too many pairs of long underwear. And when in doubt, choose the polka dots.

this photo was taken at our breakfast cafe just after the sunrise one morning.

To top off my tribute, I've included the coveted pound cake recipe. Yes, the very one. But don't expect it to come out like Rufus' on the first try... She's had some practice.

Rufus' Pound Cake

1 lb Butter, Soft

6 Eggs

2 C sugar

1 Can Condensed Milk

3 C Cake flour

Beat softened butter and sugar. Add eggs one at a time, beating well. Beat in condensed milk. Add flour 1 cup at a time. Pour in well greased and floured bundt pan or angel food pan. Bake 325 degrees 1 hour or more.

Mix approx. 3 cups (or more) of confectioners sugar and 3 to 4 Tablespoons key lime or lemon juice in blender or mixer and drizzle over cake once cooled.

Birthday Ben

2009-10-20T13:11:00.001-07:00

Sunday was Benny Boo's 23rd birthday. It took everything within me to believe him when he said a family dinner is all that he wanted. The fact that I wasn't squirming with surprises and secrets killed me. The more people I get to celebrate with on my birthday, the better. (Ben and Rose threw me quite the birthday-kidnap surprise last February and it was fabulous). We had birthday waffles for breakfast and then celebrated in style with a take-and-bake pizza for dinner- Ben's favorite from Mama MiMi's - and a "Tasty Cake" baked by his sweet mother. Ben's mom is fantastic in the kitchen and the poor woman gave birth (23 years ago) to a boy who has the most bland taste buds in the world. She could make just about anything, and he requests a Tasty Cake - yellow cake with a layer of peanut butter, topped with chocolate and then chilled. The very same Tasty Cake that he requested for his groom's cake just nine months ago. The same cake that he set down in reaction to the white wedding cake that was shoved up his nose... and the same cake that was snatched up within seconds of his attending to his frosted face, thus, leaving the poor groom without even a bite of his own Tasty Cake on his wedding day. But alas, now there is an entire Tasty Cake in our refrigerator and a content twenty-three year old in our living room.

In light of the recent event, I thought it appropriate to share with you twenty-three of my favorite things about birthday Ben. (the following are in no certain order).

1. His mad guitar skills

2. His mad writing skills

3. His undying commitment

4. He's super strong when I'm super weak

5. His ability to reason in stressful situations

6. The way I fit just right in his arms, and just right under his chin

7. He smokes a pipe

8. He remembers crazy facts

9. The way he quizzes me every time a song by the following comes on the radio: The Rolling Stones, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Jack White.

10. His story telling - sound effects included.

11. He loves me more than I ever thought possible

12. His affinity for all things flannel

13. His new affection for sweet tea

14. His leadership

15. His collection of vinyl records

16. The way our dinners together often become lecture series.

17. His mad dance moves

18. His big brown eyes

19. His brown turtle fur toboggan

20. He's a fisherman

21. He's good at building fires

22. He uses a typewriter

23. He's gunna grow old with me.

You make me feel all warm inside.

2009-10-17T13:55:00.001-07:00

Some things are too good to keep to yourself. Please accept this, my some-what public apology, for keeping one of the best cold-weather treats to myself for the last 22 years. You may squirm at the description of the following, but please, don't knock it til you try it. It's a warm, delicious, calorie-filled comfort snack that no home should be without this season and I'm pretty sure my dad invented it. Of course, I thought my mom wrote the lullaby she sang to me at night for a good 18 years before I heard some other kid singing it at college. That was painful. Regardless... all you need to warm your bones and add a little extra insulation is a handful of Graham crackers, butter and hot chocolate. The butter is to be spread on the cracker, the cracker to be dipped in the cocoa. But be warned, this dipping requires some practice. Lingering too long will result in a broken cracker - for this reason, may I suggest that a spoon be kept on hand for the beginners. I've just finished my first graham-hot cocoa delight of the fall, and assure you there will be more to come. Some complementary tasty-treat activities that pair well with the delicacy include, but are not limited to: Letter writing, old movie watching, Etsy shopping.

Holly Hocking Hilltops

2009-10-14T10:46:00.000-07:00

My Tuesday is like most people's Saturdays. My 'work week' starts on Thursday and ends Monday, which I guess makes my Monday like most people's Fridays, which is especially bizarre. Thankfully, Ben has Tuesday's off too. Tuesday is right in the middle of his two busiest days, though, so he actually has things to accomplish while simultaneously trying to keep me entertained... I will admit that yesterday, in a moment of weakness, I had a pouty moment in which I vocally envied regular people's Saturday's off with their husbands and the ability to participate in shared activity. I tried to suck it up and headed to the grocery store (which I should never do in a grumpy state. I'm not a good shopper even when I'm in a good mood. But trying to meander your way around those indecisive people and the unnecessary extra cardboard stands that make the most available products that much more available to you - I just don't have the patience for it). Regardless, I came home to find a carelessly forgotten pair of boots on the front step. I kicked them out of the way and entered the first door. Up the stairs and I had to dodge a water bottle followed by a folded scarf and a pocket knife. I could hear one of our favorite driving songs through the second wooden door, and just as I was trying to solve this creative puzzle, I opened the door to find a condensed trail of long johns, gloves, my jacket, a granola bar, my camera, a burnt CD entitled "Fall Road Trip," all leading to my grinning husband. This was going to be good.

Road trips happen to be one of our spontaneous strengths. Ben has been my go-to road trip accomplice for the last five years and accompanied me to see the sunrise on the beach at least three times during college when I just needed to get out. The road-trips were never planned, but given only two hours (at most) notice -- enough time to make the appropriate road-trip music, get some coffee, and drive the eight hours through the night until we pull up to the coast, tired, groggy, irritable and looking for the nearest gas station for another round of coffee and chocolate covered donuts. We'd watch the sunrise (if it wasn't too cloudy), and turn right around, heading back for TN. These photos are from the first adventure (freshman year), during which I only allowed myself the documentation of two disposable cameras. And yes, that blonde bombshell is now my husband.

So, needless to say, I was quite excited to see the CD - there are few things I appreciate more than an appropriate soundtrack. I had enough time to put up the groceries and grab my things (including my 35mm camera, for old times sake), before Ben lead me out the door and down the road. I grabbed a sweet tea at a Sonic on the way, and was set. We headed for Logan, Ohio, on recommendation of our friend Charity, for some hiking and leaf-looking. The drive to Hocking Hills (which Ben called Holly Hock all day), was just as good as the hike. We admired the hills and the colors to the sounds of Sufjan Stevans, Innocence Mission, Fionn Regan, Simon and Garfunkel, and of course some Jack White - even Ben's good friend Griffin Kelp. It was perfect. We're so enjoying this new stage of life in Columbus - but it was beyond refreshing to get out and remember what nature is. We rounded hilltops and drove the curvy road to Hocking Hills past little streets named things like Black Jack and past open fields where corn stalks recently stood.

The park was beautiful, and I have a feeling we hit it at just the right time. It was brisk, but beautiful weather and the leaves were falling as we walked. Ben enjoyed his pipe and took notes on a matchbook while I snapped photos all day in efforts to remember how perfect it all was. We stopped at a "pumpkin patch" on the way home - already picked pumpkins with a big jar out front to drop your money in, guarded by a lazy farm dog - and dropped by another park just down the road to encounter my first ever milkweed.

The whole day was just what we needed, and didn't even know it till it was over. I am so thankful for my husband's tender spirit and self sacrifice. So let this be your exhortation to get out and enjoy the colors before they all disappear for another year. May I also suggest a custom soundtrack - I have taken the liberty of suggesting some of my favorites below to help get you started.

and the film...

my favorite one.

a taste of my autumn tunes this year. each have been window-down, rolling hill-driving approved.

1. Grey or Blue by Jaymay

2. Strawberry Swing by Coldplay

3. Song for You by Alexi Murdoch

4. Hold you in my arms by Ray LaMontagne

5. Heavenly Day by Patty Griffin

6. Lay Lady Lay by Bob

7. J'en Connais by Carla Bruni

8. Swept Away by The Avett Brothers

9. The Underwood Typewriter by Fionn Regan

10. Never Be by Kelley McRae

11. Please Read the Letter by Robert Plant and Allison Krauss

12. Come on! Feel the Illinoise! by Sufjan Stevens

13. Vio Spilum Endalaust by Sigur Ros

14. Sweetness and Light by Bill Mallonee

15. Any and all of Nick Drake

New Website

2009-09-30T06:33:00.000-07:00

Check out the new website! It offers a little more class and professionalism than this little ol thang... I had my first wedding with BCR Studios last Saturday at the beautiful Anthenaeum downtown, Columbus - I was a second-shooter with Evan who has done some beautiful work with BCR. We have another one this weekend at a winery that I'm super excited about!

Ben is in full swing of grad school and pretty exhausted at the end of the day, but enjoying it and doing really well. Our little life in Columbus is coming together really well and we feel very blessed. Now we wait for the cold to set it... Oh dear.

09.06.09

2009-09-28T07:33:00.001-07:00

Rose Rogers, one of my dearest friends, married 2Lt. Andrew Corbett over Labor Day weekend. The whole weekend was an absolute blast as the wedding party - which consisted of her three sisters, Andrew's sister, and Claire and myself - took care of last minute details. Of which there were few, because Rose has been working so diligently all summer long in preparation for this big day. There were so many unique, handmade things that added such a personal artistic touch to the wedding. Rose made the save-the-dates, the invites, the programs, the aisle runner monogram, name cards, menus, the favors, centerpieces, the bridesmaid's jewelry and clutches, her own jewelry and hair piece, and even be-dazzled her shoes. Check out her Etsy site which offers some of these great accessories [ roserogers.etsy.com ]

The ceremony and reception was held at the historic Union Station in downtown Nashville, TN. The ceremony was beautiful with friends of the couple singing, playing the piano, and reading scripture. A quick "lemonade hour" was enjoyed by the guests out on the patio, despite the tornado warning (ironic right...?!) while the staff of Union Station transformed the ceremony site into the most elegant reception site I've ever seen. (Unfortunately, I was too busy having the time of my life to get many shots of the reception decor). We danced the night away to the tunes of Radio Daze - the same Nashville-based band that made my own reception so much fun.

Rose was a great bride- so stunning and she seemed to enjoy every minute of the day. Claire and I have never had so much fun. There wasn't one dull moment the whole weekend and we were so sad to leave. Thanks, Rose, for letting us be part of your big day - everything was perfect!

Rose added this fabulous touch to the front of the dress -

Bride's Shoes - she added the pearls to the tips

BM's Shoes- HELLO! Right?!

Union Station was an old Train Station - one of the main stops in the South.

And look! The main stops just happen to be the cities the three of us came from! Meant to be.

Some of the BM's clutches -made by the Bride herself.

The Bridal Suite overlooked the ceremony site, so needless to say, there was peeking all day.

Check that hair piece. And the earrings. And the birdcage vail, and the ring. Mad talent.

The color in the next few are much more striking pre-blogger...

Love this cake shot -

The sweet married couples - all within eighteen months. This was the first of the three weddings that all the boys were able to grace us with their presence!

Love you Rose and Andrew - wish you the most happiness in the years to come!

From Scratch

2009-09-26T08:58:00.000-07:00

Ben's first day in the MFA program at Ohio State was on Wednesday and I wanted to celebrate with a special, tasty supper. I dug out this fabulous pasta cookbook - appropriately titled,"Pasta" - that was given to me last Christmas by my old room mate, Tiffany. Everything in it looks positively delicious and wholesome, but there's very few items that my husband would venture to try; things stuffed with mushrooms and lobster or topped with asparagus and goat cheese. Understanding the amount of risk involved, I skipped the first few sections that are more for beginners and dove into the "filled pasta" section. I decided on a chicken tortellini recipe which included made-from-scratch pasta!

We have a fabulous spot just three miles down the road called the North Market that's full of fantastic vendors of wine, meat, fresh bread, fresh veggies, fresh flowers, fresh chocolate treats... oh man. This was my first stop and I couldn't help but feel like those cooks on TV that are filmed as they venture from one shop to another, narrating their fine choices of meat and herbs.

The entire kitchen had exploded within a matter of twenty minutes with my new food processor (a wedding gift from my grandpa that I'm obsessed with), cutting boards, knives, my favorite pyrex bowls, measuring cups and equal amounts of flour covering the counter and myself. With Ella Fitzgerald as my soundtrack, I mixed, kneaded, pureed, stuffed, boiled and baked my way through the yummiest dinner we've shared as a married couple. The pasta was accompanied by another recipe's cream and parsley based sauce and I whipped up a tasty bruschetta topping with some tips from our friend Shannon in TN, with broiled grape tomatoes and baked french bread. Ben's Mom was so sweet to drop some cookies off that night (a tradition she's had since his first day of school as a wee little one), so the three of us enjoyed what could have been a disaster, but turned out to be scrumptious. (I had the local pizza restaurant's phone number close by, just in case).

Polaroid Emulsion Prints- my newest pastime...

2009-09-14T09:53:00.000-07:00

I've dappled in the Polaroid Transfer process and wanted to try something a bit different today. I was pleased with the results and had quite a good time experimenting. Try it out!

What you need:

1.Polaroid Print from either Polaroid 669 or any other peel apart Polaroid. (I'm using prints from my day-lab which develops slide film onto the Polaroid 669 film).

2. Boiling water. I find our electric kettle to be the best qualified.

3. Bowl for hot water

4. Fine-bristled paint brush

5. Pan for cool water.

6. Water color paper - anywhere between 100-160 lbs press.

Pour the boiling water into your bowl and agitate the photo with a paintbrush for approximately 30-45 seconds.

Take the photo out of the hot water and place it into the cool water when you see the film beginning to come loose from the backing like on the right side of the photo below.

Using your paintbrush, gently scrape the emulsion from the white backing. I found that short, quick motion underneath the film worked best. While you want to be gentle, it is surprising the amount of force with which you can scrape.

Alternate the direction from which you remove the film as to keep the image right side up.

This is what you should see once it comes loose from the backing.

There will be a thick, gel-like substance that comes off the backing along with the emulsion. It should separate itself from the image, but double check it, and pull it away if necessary.

You are now ready to place the image on your water color paper. The more paper you can fit into the pan, the easier I found the transfer. Using your paintbrush, guide the image onto the paper.

You can spend a generous amount of time on the next step, or you can be done once the image is taken out of the water and onto the paper. I like to use the paintbrush to straighten out the image just a bit. It won't be perfect, and it's not supposed to be. The final Polaroid Emulsion print should take on a fluid appearance.

If you're doing multiple prints, it is necessary to replace both the boiling water and the cool water for best results. Lay aside to dry, and you're finished!

B & H Photo is the best site I've found to order these Polaroid films:

http://www.bhphotovideo.com/

Blushing Brides

2009-09-11T11:03:00.000-07:00

Even though Claire's been married for over a year and Emily's still preparing for the big day, these two fabulous girls were so kind to dress up for me and spend the whole day taking photos! We went all over Dayton and although one might assume a woman in a bridal gown is taken, it didn't stop good ol' Dayton boys from hootin' and hollarin' as they passed by. We had a blast and the girls looked stunning.

Claire and Rose were the hair and make-up rock-stars. What girl wouldn't want to get her hair done and prance around in a beautiful white gown all day

Baby on the Way!

2009-07-29T10:13:00.000-07:00

No, not for us! I had a great time with some new friends who so graciously let me shoot photos all morning yesterday- little Baby is due late August and I had a blast with the couple- both super photogenic and excited about their new addition!

BUBBLES

2009-07-27T09:47:00.001-07:00

Uncle Ben and Aunt "Willy" got hang out with Finn, 5, and Casey- he's brand new! We had a great time on the fantastic scavenger hunt that Grandma set up for Finn and spent the rest of the day playing with his bubble prize!

Check out http://slings-and-things.blogspot.com/ to see more great baby slings, diaper bags, bibs and a whole lot more from Janie William's - Casey LOVES his and his mom can't say enough good things about it!

Sterling's First Sunrise

2009-07-27T09:17:00.000-07:00

Sunrise and breakfast at the pier restaurant is a tradition with Rufus (my fantastic grandma), and I. Aunt Liz and cousin Sterling decided to join us for the early morning event this time - it was a blast.

LadyPanoply

2009-07-25T07:21:00.000-07:00

Just opened my first Etsy shop yesterday, so go check it out! "LadyPanoply" is the name of the shop- Panoply : (pan-uh-plee) a wide-ranging and impressive array or display; special dress. If you've never experienced Etsy, it's a fantastic online venue for all things handmade and vintage. Thousands of individuals buy and sell craft supplies, pottery, stationary, dresses.... literally everything you could think of handmade. I started off with my vintage hair pieces and am working on [say it yourself] greeting card line and am hoping to get some handmade invitations on there soon!

so go check out the site, and while you're there, enjoy everyone else's! thanks for stopping in.

www.ladypanoply.etsy.com

(say it yourself)

2009-07-18T10:41:00.000-07:00

Ben and I started (say it yourself) just a few weeks after we got married. We received the average amount of cheesy wedding cards and agreed that it was outrageous that people would pay $5.00 for something they didn't even come up with. We even got a few repeats.

So one day I started sewing buttons on cards and he pulled out his 1970's Smith Corona type-writer. (say it yourself) is a unique venue for creative and personal expression, giving the head-start that most people need, but leaving room for personalization and one-of-a-kind products. We're in the process of taking them to different retailers and hoping to get them in stores soon. Tell all your friends!

a lot of the buttons we use are antique that we've just picked up here and there.

the card is held together by the tan string - just unwind a find a sweet little message inside! the inside of this card is seen directly below it.

2009-07-14T06:29:00.000-07:00

lilyglass24@gmail.com
423-618-7408
i'd love to hear from you!

tiff and josh

2009-07-08T13:31:00.000-07:00

Tiffany and Josh got married the week before Ben and I- the season for weddings! It was a gorgeous wedding with so many fun people involved. I was in this one too, but got some great shots of everyone getting ready- thats my favorite part!

Wedding Sampler.

2009-07-08T12:37:00.000-07:00

A few wedding shots to wet the taste buds.

One of my life-long friends, Rachel got married last summer to a fellow redhead. I was in the wedding, but was able to get some fun shots while we were all getting ready. The first is her room-mate erasing her name from the "chore-board."

kinsey and scott are friends of mine who have been dating since high school. They got married three weeks before ben and I and I was so honored that they asked me to shoot the wedding. The whole wedding ceremony and reception was so 'them' - very creative and unique.

this hat got passed around the groomsmen all day

i think this was a sunday school room for little ones... just made me laugh.

emily is my cousin from michigan who moved to TN just before we moved to Ohio... She and Kyle had a beautiful wedding and the reception was super fun.

kiddies

2009-07-08T12:30:00.000-07:00

Some shots from my cousin Melissa's house. Her kids are adorable and super photogenic.

engagement sample

2009-07-08T12:02:00.000-07:00

Emily and I are cousins and have always been just one step ahead/behind each other. We're six months apart and she got married six months before me - we were each in each other's weddings. We love Kyle, he's just perfect for her and they have so much fun together.

claire is one of my sweetest friends and i had a blast shooting her and blake'e engagement photos-

this sweet couple wanted some shots together before he went off to Iraq. They had been married for just over a year when we did the shoot.

sarah and caleb were so fun to work with- she was all giggles and he seemed to love every minute of it.

2009-07-08T11:49:00.000-07:00

Deanna was a blast to work with- she had a great smile and fun personality. We wandered around downtown and then went to my parents place for some fun shots.