Monthly Archives: May 2012

Lily, Darling

I love this photo in all of it’s unedited beauty.

I was quite surprised after I downloaded everything and saw that this turned out because she was in the middle of the garden where I couldn’t get close to her. Lucky thing my camera had zoom. The issue is that my camera isn’t exactly a fan of zooming, and so I was completely prepared for this photo to be terrible.

Let’s just say I was pleasantly amazed.


Posted by on May 31, 2012 in Photographic Memory


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Aurora. Sydney. Leia?

I’m going to pre-warn you: You may or may not be sick of all the photos of flowers that are to come in the next (several) weeks. You see, I happen to have made a trip to the botanical gardens in Como Park this weekend, and loved every peaceful second of it. I suggest you check it out if you haven’t already, with an added bonus of free-will donation for entry.

Mathematical formula for disaster sucess: Kristin + camera + lots of pretty things = 4GB of pictures half way through the exhibit.

I know WordPress is flooded with pictures of gorgeous flowers this spring-time, but I can’t help myself. I have to add to the virtual bouquet. What I do promise, though, is that you will only see what I deem as the cream of the crop.

Quite honestly, I have no clue as to what this pretty lady above is called. I’ll let myself believe her name is something spunky, like Leia, Aurora, Sydney, or something. At least until told otherwise.


Posted by on May 30, 2012 in Photographic Memory


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Houston is Charming

I have already expressed my love for my pet turtle, Dallas.

But this is different. Here is Houston, my sister’s adorable turtle. He was actually found on a playground when we were in elementary school by a little boy with the last name Houston. At that time, he was about the size of a quarter and could turn circles in the bottom of those little fruit cups that elementary schools like to use to serve kids “healthiness” at lunch.

I had a wonderful mother that allowed us to keep him.

My sister inherited him when she moved off to college, and now that she lives back up by me, I get to hang out with Houston again. I hate to admit this, but he is so much more personable than Dallas. Houston will come to you. He likes to be pet. Dallas is a grumpy fellow who likes to be fed and swim… and that is about it.

Isn’t he charming?


Posted by on May 25, 2012 in Photographic Memory


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A Reminder

Welcome to springtime, love. The warm sunshine misses you, and will continue to miss you as you march right on through antineoplastic agents, leukemias, and lymphomas. A gentle reminder to take time to smell the flowers. And a reminder that it is not the end of the world to miss the bus once because you stopped to take pictures of the flowers. Lovely life.


Posted by on May 21, 2012 in Photographic Memory


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Stealing Ideas and Fears

While surfing around the lovely land of WordPress, I recently ran across an interesting post on a wonderful young lady’s blog that I loved. After mulling over it about a week, I think I have finally decided I can do this.

To just steal the quote right off Miss Docimo’s page, this “is a blog-writing challenge to break through the mist of this shiny happy pretty blogosphere and tell the real truth about your life—the things you’re afraid to tell because you think they might shatter who people think you are. I have talked about this idea often with my husband—I think the internet is a blessing and a curse—it is amazing to be able to connect with people from all over the world and inspire each other, but it can also be down-right depressing to go around to one blog after another that makes the blogger seem like they have everything all together, and success is literally raining down upon them while they take bubble baths and drink champagne in a beautiful beachfront home. Even though I realize that people are representing only part of the truth (I’m a blogger myself and tend to focus on inspiration), I often find myself feeling depressed and jealous as I make my blog rounds, and tend to avoid reading blogs when I’m in a certain mood.”

1. I’m terribly afraid of growing vain. I would much prefer struggling with insecurity issues than be blinded of my over-confidence issues. On the same note, I’m not comfortable with my body size and shape, with how thin my hair is, with my fingernails, with my lingering acne, with my hunchback, with the stank of my feet, with my awkward incoordination, and with me in general.

2. I’m afraid of people really getting to know all of me. I have no idea why I don’t like anyone knowing everything about me, but I feel it may have something to do with vulnerability.

3. I’m afraid of being held responsible for other people’s lives in my future. I think this is for obvious reasons, though.

4. I’m afraid if I tell you that I don’t have many fears, you will think I don’t care. That you will think my lack of fear of dying means I don’t understand the meaning of life. That you will think I don’t feel anything when I tell you I’m not afraid of heartbreak. That you will think I am stupid for not being afraid of heights, spiders, snakes, rats, etc. That you will think my lack of fear of failure means I haven’t ever failed. That you will think I’m fearless, when in all reality I’m not.

5. I’m more scared of meeting my significant other’s parents than sky diving. Don’t translate this as me rather jumping out of a plane than meeting his parents. It’s a little bit different than that.

6. I’m terrified of having children.

7. I’m afraid to tell you I have this drafted since Tuesday and just haven’t been able to push the publish button until today.


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Running in Circles

Here I am, full circle back to you. My bags packed, I left you. Reluctantly at first, but then I felt free to run. So I ran. I ran and I danced. I didn’t dance with you because, even though you knew you couldn’t dance and only kind of liked to dance, I didn’t like when you flailed about so helplessly. I’m not helpless, and I never was. I told you that. That is maybe why it was so easy to walk away. I found out that you walk a smaller circle than me. You made it back to remind me that I once said “I love you.” I reminded you that you once said you loved me, and at the same time reminded myself that was then. This is now. And now you tell me you still love me and you were stupid to let me go. I didn’t want to tell you, but I did anyway. I was walking in line with another, someone who was able dance. He made me smile like you made me smile. I sent you walking away, bags packed, out on another path. It took me too long to realize that his path wasn’t right. I found out he was good at focusing on us, our happiness, our dancing, our mirror lined tunnel. When I see light at the end of a tunnel, I think sun. Life has told me there will be sun at the end of a tunnel, so I ran and danced on, forward through his tunnel. One day, I heard a rumor there was no light. She told me she was in the tunnel, too, and there was no light at all. I didn’t believe it, so I looked hard. I looked so hard I saw there was no light. The light shone in from the opening of the tunnel, the path I came from. The path from you. I ran back, panicked, to see if you were still standing at the opening. And not surprisingly, you walked away. Now again, I felt free to run. I didn’t run quite so fast this time, being careful that I didn’t fall or disrupt someone else’s track. I’ve been running for a long time, and I feel like I’m getting tired. And here I am, full circle back to you. Have you come back around, too? And now its me telling you I still love you and I was stupid to let you go, even if you can’t dance.


Posted by on May 14, 2012 in My "Love" Life


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Detail Oriented

I’m still working on this whole macro photography thing. I feel like I could quite possibly, maybe come to like doing these sorts of photos. I find each picture to be a reminder of the delicate intricacies that sustains life, or on the other hand, the intricacies that are left after life has disappeared. Or I suppose the details in life we miss being so busy with “bigger, better” things.

The top photo is a branch of a full grown, papa tree reaching out to greet oncommers and the wind. The second is looking directly down upon a little guy reaching towards the sky where his papa stands tall. Next follows natures carpet, fighting to keep the world warm against the blustery winds, clear frozen solid water, and dusty snowflakes.

The last two are examples of battles fought and lost. Proving to be tiny examples of the destruction of harvesting, the remnants stand tall despite being crushed. A story of growth and prosperity, jealousy and battles of a stronger force, and the consequences of war. A story of life. A story of history. A story of the future.


Posted by on May 11, 2012 in Photographic Memory


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