In Nebraska we enjoy prairie grass seas, seals at the children’s zoo and a dock or two at Holmes Lake. People-watching is good sport in a few grocery stories I visit in the ‘hood, but otherwise it’s just not that interesting here.
But Fisherman’s Wharf provides the most excellent people-watching experience, which we appreciated to the fullest several days ago. I liked checking out shoe choices—you would not believe the heels some gals wore to the Wharf. Un-believable.
Fisherman’s Wharf is a photographer’s dream. Want to see what we saw? Scroll down.
Let the record show that the photos in this post contain cable cars, not trolleys. (There is a difference.) Though, from our hotel room last weekend, we certainly heard lots of clanging and it was definitely coming from the cable cars that run up and down Powell Street in San Francisco. Their sounds joined gospel music from street performers, shouting people who lived on the streets, and honking from crazed drivers who didn’t have patience for performers, homeless people OR cable cars. It was a cacophony of city noises that floated up to our third story windows all day long, and much of the night, too.
Jeremy works for an awesome company in San Francisco called ThoughtMatrix. I did some copywriting work for the firm last year and was constantly impressed by the work they do. Lucky for us, the folks employed at ThoughtMatrix are awesome as well and we really enjoy hanging out with them when Jeremy flies west for work.
After convincing Jeremy that the cable car was a legitimate form of transportation—and not just a ridiculous tourist ride—we bought tickets and jumped a car headed for Fisherman’s Wharf.
What do you like about flying? What do you *not* like about flying? Do you talk with your seat mates? Would you rather pull out your fingernails one by one than have to talk with your seat mates? Discuss.
My time with the Parish family exemplified everything I love about my job. Super fun family, plenty of time to capture their great personalities, and superb lighting. Really, God pulled out all the stops on the light this afternoon in Pioneers Park and it was gorgeous. Also, I love this fun middle school stage that Bryce and Marshall (the Parish kids) are in. Watching them reminded me of all the times my brothers and I half-wrestled/half-hugged each other.
Karen, it was a joy to photograph your family! I’m kind of glad it took me so long to post the images on my blog—now it’s a pleasant reminder of warm sunny fall days in Lincoln, Nebraska! It won’t be winter forever… right?
No, I didn’t forget to post the Parish family portraits from last October. Not really.
The awesome Parish family was the last of five shoots I did within seven days.
And then Livia and I had an adventure in Chattanooga.
And then I edited all five of those shoots.
And then, this feast called Thanksgiving showed up in my dining room.
And then, the Advent season, Christmas Day and New Year’s came along.
For tonight, one photo. The rest will follow soon.
This was Livia’s chosen attire for a trip to the grocery store yesterday.
First I need to acknowledge that I am a sentimental goofball. Because next I’m going to acknowledge that I cried a lot while watching The Sound of Music recently.
Livia and I watched this awesome Christmas present (again, thank you, Jeremy!) over a period of three to four sessions. I’m pretty sure each session involved me folding laundry because the laundry situation around here is just that bad. I was impressed that Livia, lover of animation, stuck it out and watched the whole show with me. Loved that.
Is there anything better than the dramatic score of The Sound of Music? I’m pretty certain is was the soaring musical numbers that got me all teary. Maria in her wedding gown? Goosebumps and glossy eyes. The entire family climbing over the Alps at the end? Definite tear-jerker:
Climb every mountain
Ford every stream
Follow every rainbow
Till. You. Find. Your. Dream.
Such intense moments require singing along, so then I, the laundry-folding mommy, end up with arms raised in triumph in the living room, singing along in my best warbling and dramatic falsetto.
Oh, Julie Andrews, how I love thee.
**January Reflections are writing prompts from the thoughtful and creative Corrin of The Glorious Impossible.
Alternate title: The Day the Food Processor Died
That there in the background is my [now dead] food processor. I was shredding carrots and marveling at the fact this little machine has been processing away since my wedding 12 years ago when it breathed its last breath. Or shredded its last carrot, more appropriately. Twelve years is good for a small appliance, right?
Livia and I were making carrot cake for our friends’ wedding. Dylan and Emily asked a bunch of buddies if they’d be interested in making layer cakes for their wedding reception. There were a few moments during the baking process where I wondered why I agreed to help. Namely, when my food processor up and died and when the cake layers came out with sunken centers. But overall, I considered how awesome it was that 20-30 amateur bakers around Lincoln, Nebraska, were, at the same moment probably, making cakes for this awesome young couple. I imagine a lot of us were praying for Dylan and Emily and for their new life together. And in that way, God was using a group of slightly incompetent pseudo chefs to bless this wedding—and in turn, we were also blessed.
As it turns out, love and cream cheese frosting cover a multitude of sins. Sunken centers did not ruin anything.
The Bill’s Big Carrot Cake recipe is posted at Needs More Butter. You can also check out the recipe for a yummy Curried Chicken & Cauliflower Soup I recently made. And, if you feel so led, you can email me any healthy and delicious recipes your family adores. I’d appreciate that!
Livia’s class teddy bear, Theodore or Teddy as he is often called, came home with her this weekend. She was ecstatic about this development and proceeded to cuddle him at every opportunity.
The one requirement at the end of Teddy’s visit was a small story on what he did over the weekend. The writer in me needed restraint to not embellish Livia’s words in the classroom journal. After recording her story, I gave her a set of colored pencils so she could draw a picture. The following image is what Livia came up with.
Do you see what she wrote next to the picture? Do you see her first sentence? Yaaaayyy, Liv!! I asked her later how she wrote the sentence and she said she “turtle talked” it. Sometime you’ll have to ask Livia for a demonstration of turtle talking—it’s a fascinating method of sounding out words and I have no idea why it’s called turtle talking. Anyhow, when you adopt a kid you just don’t know much about their development. When is she going to walk? Talk? Read? Write? Etc, etc. And, as mothers often do, you worry a bit about your child. So it is with great pride and great joy that I mark my child’s first sentence. What a beautiful thing.
