Rave reviews

In my quest to become more knowledgeable about photography and digital camera technology, I have always had it in the back of my mind that I need to learn how to use Photoshop. It seems that I just missed the technology boat in high school. Computer technology wasn't quite there yet, and I had a typing class but no computer class. I know...kind of crazy that I missed out on something that is so prevalent and basic to elementary and junior high kids today. So I was thrilled today to find that Adobe Photoshop has a new website called Photoshop Express. It is a quick, smaller version of the larger Photoshop application. What's is even more exciting is that it is very intuitive and user-friendly. That is of utmost importance to me, considering my aforementioned lack of computer intuition. Finally, I can correct, crop, and manipulate my photos 'til my heart is content. To celebrate, I bring you my first photo I turned black and white with this website.

Karis, lizard watching.

29 candles

A few weeks ago I turned 29, or as I see it, VERY close to 30. I can't lie. I feel old. Sorry to you readers who are over the age of 29. Rest assured, I don't think of you as old. No, certainly not. You are young, full of life, and gracefully aging. But me? I just feel old. After all, 29 is just one year/12 months/365 days away from the big 30. For some reason this milestone has been especially hard for me. Perhaps it is coupled with the ever growing presence of prematurely graying hairs on my head and the constant lack of energy. But really I think it is the realization that at my age, my mom was already a mother of 4 kids, my mother-in-law had all 3 of hers, and Matt's biological grandmother had already birthed 8! That last one is a little unusual, I know. But still, my point is...29 is adult. Make no mistake, I am an adult. And I am almost 30. (sigh)

Other than a minor mid-life crisis, my birthday was spent sitting in the lap of luxury, thanks to the love of my husband, family, and friends. After a delicious birthday dinner of steak and crab legs with Matt and his parents, I was led on an exciting scavenger hunt complete with riddles, clues, hunting through rooms, a decoy present, and a treasure at the end. I learned that I am not too old for a treasure hunt! Oh, and the treasure....you ask? It is the fabulous new love of my life...a Nikon D40 camera. Thanks to Matt and his orchestrating a fabulous gift courtesy of family and friends, I have moved up in the camera world. I love it, and I am so wildly grateful. Now the pressure is on to do the reading about the camera and general photography that I have been meaning to do for some time. I hope to bring you many new photo creations from Mr. Nikon in future blog posts to come. All complaints aside about my age, I am so blessed to have another year of life!

Praising God

We woke up this morning praising God for the safe, though stressful, delivery of Owen Andrew Johnson to Kelly and Ande, my sister-in-law and her hubby. Congratulations to the proud parents! Check out this little stud...

Roots

Last week Karis and I went on vacation to my parents' home. I must say that it is so wonderful to be able to drive a mere 5 hours and find myself sitting in their living room chatting away. That is a luxury I have not had since leaving for college 10 years ago. We all remarked how nice it is to live so close to each other. Our time was wonderful, filled with deep conversation, shopping, beaching, and plenty of baby relishing. I would say that Karis bonded for the first time with my parents and my sister, and it was such a wonderful thing to watch some of the most dear people in my life get to know each other!

No matter how well I think I know my parents, the people who saw me come into this world, raised me, and made countless decisions on my behalf for so many years, I amazed at the things I still find out about them. I guess in some ways the tables have turned. For years they poured into my life and knew me, and now I find myself so curious about these two individuals. I wonder who they are, and what are the experiences in their lives that have shaped them--whether it be their childhood or the years that I was living in my childlike, self-absorbed world, not paying the least bit of attention to them as individuals. Now that I have my own child and the generations are multiplying, I find myself curious...who do I come from?

Sitting around the dinner table the first night I got home, my Dad settled into his chair after a hard day's work. As conversation developed he began sharing stories of his childhood filled with the adventures, or misadventures rather, of him and his twin brother. He recounted story after story of pranks, outings, travel, and memories that gave me a flavor of what his childhood was like. I was captivated by the details. The next morning he offered to make some of his infamous rolls for breakfast. I call them infamous because my siblings and I would both look forward to and dread these "biscuit-ish, scone-esque" creations when we were kids. We looked forward to them because it was fresh, hot bread coming straight from the oven. The dread was because they were a bit of a gamble...Dad never used a recipe but simply grabbed whatever was available and struck his fancy that day. Most of the time they tasted good. We always joked that regardless of taste, the nutritional value was so superior and the density so great we were sure someone could survive on a deserted island with those and water alone.

As I was saying, we sat down the next morning around the table and I asked something I have never thought to ask: where did my father learn to make bread? He began to tell me how his Oma (German for grandma) was a great cook and baker. As a little boy he would crawl under the table where she sat rolling out dough for noodles (most likely for that night's goulash or beef stroganoff or some such other German/Hungarian fare). As she worked with the noodles, some of the dough would hang off the table, and my father's little hands would grab the leftovers. I love picturing my Dad as a little boy eyeing the scraps, positioning himself in the right place, and scoring the unwanted bits. It was his Oma's skills with flour, yeast, and water that trained my father in his baking skills. These stories help color in some of the missing shades of his life story in my mind.

I also got to know more about my mother. Born and raised in Cuba, my mother's childhood was full of experiences that were unique, lively, and quite un-American. I had the rare privilege of visiting Cuba in 1998 and became acquainted with the land and people that my mother came from. During my visit home last week, my mother took Karis and I to beautiful nearby Sanibel Island. With its white sandy beaches, light blue waters, and quaint lighthouse, we fully enjoyed our visit. As we sat there munching on our seafood salad sandwich and watching the family of dolphins lazily swim by, I remarked to my mom how much the beach seems to mean to her. Her response was immediate and passionate. She began to tell me stories of annual summer trips from her inland hometown in Cuba to the coastal towns where she and her parents would stay for a month long visit. Her days were spent running, swimming, and playing under the Cuban sun. In the afternoon, they would gather for games with the other vacationers. Good food and music were plentiful. For her, the beach is more than a great place to visit. There is something healing, soulful about the beach. She drinks it in. So, for me, there is no one I would rather go to the beach with than this woman, my mom.

3 Lessons learned

Lesson #1: Always ride in style
According to someone I know, when sitting in the stroller while on an afternoon walk, it is advised to make all efforts to be comfortable, not the least of which includes propping up one foot on the front tray.


Lesson #2: BIG changes can come in 3 short months
I read somewhere that the time frame of 6-9 months of age is full of discovery and exploration. No less can be said for Karis. Topping the list: eating solid food, speaking words (Daddy and doggy), crawling, pulling up, reaching out for mom, and waving hello. She is all movement these days.


Lesson #3: Stop and smell the roses
...and then take their picture. With all their radiance and perpetual smiling in the afternoon sun, it would simply be foolish to do otherwise.