A Chef in the Making

I don't know if I should go back to the little boy that was quick to help me in the kitchen, or to the boy that made me a cookie that spelled MOM for my first birthday that I was back at work, or to the boy that was in his element as a food runner and expo at Top Golf, or to the boy that did not want to go to college and did not really enjoy college...These could all be starting points for the current chapter of his life, and I guess they are all touch points.

When Andrew was abroad for his semester in Lithuania, I did a layout about him and on that layout I used the quote:

"We must take adventures to know where we truly belong."

And while I struggle a bit with the expense of sending him to college in Colorado for one year, and then the expense of send him abroad for a semester, I know ultimately it was all part of his journey. I can't really complain. The child told me dozens of time his senior year that he did NOT want to go to college. I believe part of why he finally succumbed to going was the realization that he would get away from us, or at least get away from me. So, he did win in the end, and have his "gap year". And the $25,000 we spent on that "wasted" year and a half was - has to be - viewed as an investment in him. It's only money after all, right? ;-) It does no good to think otherwise....

So when Andrew set off for Colorado Christian University, he was going in as an English major, to become a teacher. And then before the first class began, he had shifted more toward a Sociology major. Or maybe I have this vice versa. {Who can recall?!} Then, during his semester in Lithuania - at least at the beginning of it - he wanted to major in Theology, and post graduation start church plants with his friend Chase. But somewhere along the way during that European semester, he got the bug about cooking, and found an online cooking class. He wanted to take it concurrent with his spring 2016 semester at CCU. And then it shifted to him wanting to only take the cooking class, and not enroll at CCU at all. And we debated and pleaded with the boy across the ocean to at least please just ENROLL for the spring 2016 semester, and then we could talk about it when he was back stateside mid-December 2015. We didn't win that contest. We haven't really won a contest with this kid for a few years now. Stubborn he is.

Now, you may recall that hubby and I had moved from our big home to a little apartment on July 28, 2015. So, said child coming home to live with us was really quite a factor, as there was very limited living space....And the second apartment bedroom we planned to use as storage soon became a bedroom that was going to need to be lived in. Andrew disregarded our advice and listened to his own heart and did come home indeed in December 2015, and did indeed take a "gap year". He did not move out until March 11, 2017. We had him at home for fifteen months and despite the apartment life, we really enjoyed having him around. And while he has long been a handful, I have missed him every day since he left. And I've only got the one photo of him in his new life, which hurts just as bad, and in a completely different way.

But, while he was home, he was busy making good use of his time: learning the trade, building his resume, pocketing his paychecks. Through a Walt Disney World photography club connection, I garnered the name and number of a chef at a local farm to table restaurant. That chef hired Andrew  in January 2016 to work in the kitchen, cooking on the line. Andrew worked at that restaurant until Christmas Eve. For several months during his Whiskey Cake stint, he would work the morning shift at a sister restaurant Ida Claire. He'd leave there at 3:30, after arriving there at 8 AM, and clock in at Whiskey Cake at 4:00 PM, working until close, finishing up around midnight. Then he'd get up again and do it the next day. He worked hard. He respected his coworkers and they respected him. 

After doing all he could do at Ida Claire and Whiskey Cake, he hopped over to another sister restaurant to work in their bakery and gain some different experience. It was amusing to hear him tell tales of his workdays all year long, and the change at the twelve month mark was good for him - he found out "for free" that he didn't want to pursue a bakery/pastry direction at culinary school. He said it was all too slow of a pace, and too repetitive. Working at the fast pace of the kitchen line had shaped him into someone enjoying the pressure of managing the tickets' meal prep.

The boy has always had an incredible work ethic and a strong moral compass. I was amazed at his energy level when he worked at Top Golf - always bounding out of the house, ready to go to work. At Whiskey Cake, Ida Claire, and The Ranch he was the same way, even though his work days were many times in excess of 12 hours, and he was on his feet that entire time, working non-stop, without breaks, water, food. I watched him "feed" his passion during his gap year, and I watched his passion feeding him, in the literal and physical sense of course!

We were trying to diet when he was home and it was so incredibly hard! That boy was always finding a restaurant for us to try, or wanting to go try a new dish at one of his faves. We frequently caved because we knew our time home with him was limited, and that upon completion of his culinary degree and his entering this industry full-time as a career that his time off will be minimal, and our odds of being home together for the holidays slim to none. But, ponderings aside, if he wasn't working and we weren't eating out, we might be found watching the Netflix series, "The Chef's Table"  while playing a game of Catan. The industry as a whole is fascinating, and I soaked in all of this information, using it as my primer to morph into "mom of a chef". ;-)

And during this gap year, while we were crammed in an apartment, building a house, having a son living at home, I watched not only the episodes of a chef in the making on the Netflix series, but I watched it happen to my boy. The longer he worked the line, the more he found himself refining his skills, defining his tastes, discovering his dreams. Around December 2016 he decided he was finally ready to formally apply to The Culinary Institute of America. He had the experience, he had the credentials, he had the recommendations, and above and beyond all of that, he had the refined and honed desire. The dream was still in his heart.

He was of course quickly accepted and elected for a March 27, 2017 start date. {New groups start every 3 weeks, if you can believe that!} My boy had made the cut and was headed to "the Harvard of cooking schools". The countdown began. My mom heart got heavy. We ramped up our Catan games, knowing they would all too soon end. We shopped for some things. We got the financing in place. And on March 11, he and hubby headed out to Nashville to spend some time with our oldest son, and then from there Andrew would continue on to upstate New York for dorm check-in on March 26.

The picture below on the left is him the night before they were to head north in March. He was all smiles - so happy to finally be going, to be heading to his new beginning. I appreciated the irony of him wearing a Colorado shirt - a perfect farewell tribute to his old path - with the cheek to cheek smile a fitting accessory for his new adventure. And on the right, the one photo I have of him since March 27: his first day of class, clean shaven, in chef jacket and toque, for some reason serious as all get out, ready to head into the class kitchen. Right in front of my eyes, a chef in the making. I know he's doing well. I know he's showing up every day and giving it his all. I know he is making the cut.  

Making the Cut ~ Beginning Culinary School ~ March 2017

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: My Minds Eye

Title Font: Pacifico, Times New Roman

Grace Wins Every Time

At the age of forty-eight, in October of 2012, I started this mental challenge with myself called "Fit by Fifty". Steve and I joined 24 Hour Fitness on October 31, 2012, and we both began working twice a week with personal trainers. At the same time, we were eating Nutrisystem diet foods {which tasted awful}. This focused stretch lasted until about June 2013. I did not have a good relationship with my trainer: she regularly had me crying, and so I decided that leaving for our Florida vacation was as good a time as any to quit. Now, I weigh myself just about every day before showering and I log it. I can tell you my weight on any given day for the last several years, going all the way back to 2006 when I began Jenny Craig {for the first time} after moving to the Dallas area. I'm not obsessed with dieting. But I'm probably obsessed with eating, and being married to a curious and persistent Foodie doesn't help my cause. It's highly unfair because said Foodie walks ALL DAY for his job and self sits all day for hers. The deck is stacked against me. Hence my campaign for Fit by Fifty. 

Well, fifty came and I wasn't "fit" yet, so I changed my internal slogan to "Fit AT Fifty". Still had quite a nice ring to it, yes? I did a bout with HCG drops. And then I enrolled in Jenny Craig again. I started walking at lunch. I tried changing all the variables, looking for that magic answer to getting the scale on the downward slope that would match my aging trajectory. Nothing seemed to work permanently. It's all too painful really to recount in detail, as I have basically dieted my entire adult life. I've done all the food diets over one time span or another: Weight Watchers (three times), First Place, The Grapefruit Diet, Adkins, Jenny Craig (three times), Nutrisystem, Slim4Life, BistroMD, and I've done a couple of plans that involved pills. Remember "Fit and Trim", Sheila?.... Suffice it so say my working slogan is now "Fit IN my Fifties". Ah, the sliding rule of middle-aged sedentary working life, with a genesis of slow metabolic genes....

I'm clinging to that quote "You never really lose until you quit trying" which is attributed to Mike Ditka, or perhaps you prefer "You never fail until you stop trying" which is attributed to Albert Einstein. Either works for me, as in it works to keep me trying, but I still haven't "won", because I cannot fully lose. And I'm not miserable, and I'm not seeking a pity party....I'm just determined in a comfortable way. I'm not willing to live and breathe and die for a fitness regimen, for instance. But I've stopped binge eating ice cream and cookies and chips. I'm exercising, more or less, regularly. I'm embracing salads now. Small, incremental steps. Lots of little steps of progress along the way. I see it as a math equation that can be solved if I work at it long enough. It's a challenge to be sure. And there is nothing more addicting to me than a good challenge.

For what it's worth, I did lose the baby weight from both boys. I was a size 10 for my brother's wedding. I remember that navy dress well. And I was holding baby Andrew on my hip. So, whatever I've got going on is all food addiction related, and not maternity pounds gone awry....And there was one point when my eating got really out of hand, and again, without too many details, I battled depression while living in McAllen and ate my way through the pain, and got up to a size 20. I was at that size, or just below it at an 18, when we moved to Dallas in 2005. Oh, the pictures do not lie, do they?

It was equal parts vanity and health that drove me to Jenny Craig for the first time in early 2006. And that same formula has been corraling my gains and had me fighting for losses ever since. {It is equal parts freedom and humiliation to write this out.} As a companion to my dieting manueuvers, and in pursuit of the health aspect, I have of course had varying attempts and successes with exercise. I was never athletic as a child and when I wanted to pursue junior high volleyball, my father forbid it because of the uniform. Additionally, in the sixth grade I was diagnosed with supraventricular tachycardia and put on heart medication, and developed a mild fear of over-exerting my heart. So, the metabolism of a highly sedentary person began its formation long ago, and I have been, as an adult, working that angle of the equation as well. 

When I revisited Jenny Craig in October 2015, I did simultaneously begin a regular if modest workout: I would walk for 30 minutes each day during lunch. At first I did this begrudgingly, but over time, it became something I really looked forward to. By April 2016, I was walking twice a day: at lunch, and then again in the evenings with Steve. At this point in time, I loved walking. Loved it. I loved how it made me feel. I loved our end of day talks as we made our way through our mapped out path. I could tell it helped me handle my stress, and I could tell also that it was a great way to unwind the days' troubles.

So 2016 rocked along as a pretty good year of victories in the weight loss war. From October 2015 to June 2016, I lost 24 pounds and then I stalled in loss with my Jenny Craig plan around June, and went off of their food plan because it was too expensive to be used as a "maintenance" plan. We did keep up with the walking. Well, by July I had put a few pounds back on. Between June and mid August, I had put 8 of those pounds back on. And in mid August, we saw for the first time in over a year some dear friends of ours from Knoxville, Damon and Lea. Damon and Lea had begun the Fast Metabolism Diet by Haylie Pomroy in February and we could see before our eyes their incredible changes in body composition and in weight loss. After spending the weekend with them, we came home convicted to try this new program that would repair our metabolism.

I will tell you that it has been hard. We have gone off and on Haylie's 28 day cycle plan. We have basically been off of caffeine, wheat, soy, dairy, alcohol, and refined sugar since August 2016. Oh, we have had our "cheats" here and again, but we haven't enjoyed how we have felt afterwards, and we have slowly been falling out of love with things like pizza, Mexican food, hamburgers, Italian food, desserts of all kinds....a whole host of former faves. The tragic downside of this drastic change in eating is that the social avenue of eating out basically dies a slow death. So many restaurants that we loved are out of the rotation for the meager nights we brave eating out. The inability to eat out, or grab a quick bite anywhere, has been the hardest aspect of it all. 

During the course of this new way of eating, I was FaceTiming my friend, Lea, and we were talking about the three phases of eating and cardio and weight training came up. She was talking about how they were running for their cardio and casually mentioned, "You know, if there's ever a 5K at Disney, we'd be up for it," to which I replied, "Well there IS, so are you trash talking me, or serious?" Before the conversation ended, it was rather apparent that I had committed to running a 5K, and she had committed to going to Walt Disney World with us. I think we were both equal parts elated and mystified. ;-) Thankfully, all of my walking combined with my weight loss had equipped me to mentally and physically take the next step. In November 2016, I was actually only one pound higher than my lowest Dallas weight from October 2006.

On August 28, 2016, in the heat of the Texas summer, I set my Apple watch to track my first {pitiful} effort of my running workout, implementing a 5K training plan of timed walk/run intervals that Lea had shared with me. Steve was in this with me. We were all signed up {both couples} for the February run, and the training gauntlet had been thrown down. Steve and I did really well on our training until the time to move in our home on November 10 arrived. The pressure to get settled for the holidays superceded any race training and before we knew it, it was January and I was nowhere near able to run 3.1 miles. 

On January 10, two months after our move-in, Steve and I knew we were up against a wall and we resumed our race training, which was running 3 times a week. Forcing myself to prepare for this finite deadline, and simultaneously confronting the reality of running {in public} with my husband and our two dear friends, was some of the hardest truths and experiences I've ever faced. I could not quit. I had to finish. I had to keep going. I did not want to, though. I did not think I could do it. Here is an excerpt from an email I wrote on January 24:

Last night as I was running I contemplated the verse, "With man nothing is possible, but with God ALL things are possible" and I thought about getting the word possible tattooed on my wrist. No joke. I need the daily moment by moment reminder that Papa is BIG. I did not have a good run. I am feeling very much like a failure at it. I am full of doubt and feeling very foolish for even trying this. I am the oldest, I have the heaviest % of body fat, and I have a heart problem to boot. "WTH was I thinking?" kept running through my mind.

In one last desperate attempt, on January 25 I Googled some 30-day 5K Training Plans and, mustering gumption and grit, on January 29, we increased our 3-4 day a week running regimen to running every day. Every day. Work, eat dinner, change clothes, lace up shoes, run, die on the couch. The 5K was Friday, February 24. I had a finite amount of time, and what seemed like an infinite amount of distance to cover in my running.

I would spend the next twenty days trying, trying, trying to get to where I needed to be. See, I just was unable to run continuously for 3.1 miles. But, what I realized on February 11 was this was a mental hurdle, and not a physical one. Let me share with you another email excerpt from February 13:

Steve and I continue to be PRESSED into the nuttiness of eating FMD (and ALL that entails) and pairing that with the last minute prep for the 5K. I WILL BE HONEST and tell you I DID NOT THINK I WAS GOING TO BE READY. I WILL BE HONEST and tell you that the progress I have made CAN ONLY BE SUPERNATURAL. I alternate the breath prayer of POSSIBLE with IMMEASURABLE AND IMMENSE daily, moment by moment, as I slog through our route. GOD IS SO MAJESTIC AND OMNIPRESENT. WHO ARE WE THAT HE IS MINDFUL OF US?

I praise God for giving me the idea to SEEK OUT a 30 day training plan, and I praise God for also whispering to me to evaluate the elevations that we were running. We were basically running an uphill circle, where the downhill wasn’t long enough to equip me for the uphill, with an accumulated climb that equated to a 74 ft climb over the course of running for 30 minutes. (The Epcot course has a cumulative climb of 42 feet. We ran that looping uphill route that way for the last time on 1/31. On 1/30 we made the adjustment to push ourselves to hit 3.12 miles per night, whether we were walking OR running to begin to transition our bodies for the distance. (Another God whisper.) Papa has guided me relentlessly, helping me to adjust. After 1/31, I felt so FOOLISH and defeated. We took a couple days off, did some weight training, and went back to running on 2/5 - hitting 3.12 miles successfully for the first night. On 2/5 and 2/6, I was able to run nonstop for about 6 or 7 minutes total before needing to stop to walk. On Tuesday 2/7, I stretched that to 8 minutes running before stopping. 

Every night during this time we are adapting our route, trying to even it out, adjusting some each time, thinking where we can turn to hit some flats…? On 2/8 and 2/9 we rest from running. On Friday 2/10, we head out to run and I push myself - God helps me - to run for 16 minutes without stopping to walk. I DOUBLED MY TIME FROM ONE RUN TO THE NEXT. PRAISE GOD!! On Saturday 2/11 we go run and I tell myself I’m going to make it to 20 minutes without stopping. Hit 20. Okay, go for 25. Hit 25. Okay, for for 30. Hit 30. Okay, go for 35. At 35, I know I’m struggling, but I know I have the gas in me to go ahead and finish. On Saturday, 2/11, I RAN A 5K FOR THE FIRST TIME WITHOUT STOPPING ANY. I was filled with joy, elation, disbelief, doubt. MY PREDOMINANT THOUGHTS WERE, “I DID IT!” FOLLOWED IMMEDIATELY BY “CAN I DO IT AGAIN?” 

Well, we ran Sunday 2/12 and yes, yes, praise God I COULD DO IT AGAIN. And my times were a little better and it was incredibly windy at that. I document all of this because in the span of FIVE DAYS I go from being able to run for 6 minutes to being able to run for the whole distance…the time of that varies from 41 to 48. I ran for 48 minutes on Saturday and 41 minutes on Sunday….My paces are improving. My heart rate is getting steadier and stronger…My breathing is getting better. SUPERNATURAL PROGRESS. PRAYERS ANSWERED. I pray that I can continue to get faster and I am not relenting on my training until the race day arrives!! Thank you for your prayers and support. It means so much.  

{There were too many details to try to recount that, so the email sharing was the easiest.} 

I say all of this backstory to say, to quote Walt, "If you can dream it, you can do it," or to quote my scripture, "With man nothing is possible, but with God all things are possible." I feel like if I can run a 5K, anyone can run a 5K. When race day came, we were ready. The race began at 6 AM. We had to be at our corral by 5:30. We had to be on a bus to Epcot by 5 AM. We set our alarms for 4:15 AM. We all quickly got up and got dressed and, thankfully, a bus was there waiting and we walked right on. It was surreal to see so many runners. Over 7,000. We were slotted in corral D. They released 4 times from each corral at 2-minute intervals. We were the first release of our corral, and we began at 6:26 AM and finished 44 minutes later. 

My husband and my friends were so kind to run slowly with me, at my pace that would keep my heartrate at an acceptable level. We started in the parking lot. We ran in the dark. We played frogger around those that were walking already at mile one. Navigating the crowds was the hardest. We entered Epcot at the backstage entrance near the Mexico pavilion, where Donald Duck has his meet and greets. The race went so fast! All of hours and months of training -- for this brief 44 minute run. We tried as best as we could to stay together. There were moments where we were tightly together, and moments where it was just me and Steve, and sometimes I was at the back by myself. I just kept running. I had trained for this! This was the moment! 

The Photo Pass photographers on the sidelines of the race path, in their little green huts for safety and visibility, were proof of that. There was one moment in the breaking dawn when I was clearly by myself as I approached a photographer. It was after mile one, and before mile 2. I know this because towards the end of mile 2 is where I always struggle, until I push through that barrier and get my second win that takes me to mile 3....I know this because the pose I gave the photographer was my moment. That photo of me captures the essence of it all! I was here, I was doing this, I was running in a 5K, I was doing something I never before thought possible!!

I know all of this was a gift to me from God. I know I'm not measured by my body weight, or shape, or size. I know I'm not fenced in by them either. I know my ability to break through that mental barrier on February 11 was my gift, far less tangible than my race medal, but so much more visible in my mind. From August to February, the four of us had a slogan, and on race day we owned it. We crossed the finish line together, holding hands, arms up over our heads. Victory. See, grace wins every time. I'm not done with my "fit in my fifties", but this story, this moment, this race, this medal is a capstone. And every time I doubt my ability to succeed, I tell myself "Anything is possible if you believe," and I recall a sparkly crown, a blue tutu, Epcot in the breaking dawn, 7,000 runners, my husband and friends cheering me on, and I remember grace wins every time.

Anything is Possible if You Believe ~ Epcot Royal Family 5K ~ February 2017

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Echo Park

Title: Silhouette file

Adventure is Out There

We weren't sure where we were headed when we left the house. Thank goodness for Siri. I mean, Springfield, Missouri isn't everyone's dream destination. ;-) We had some college friends that were from Joplin, Missouri, but I safely say that before June 2011 I really hadn't felt the Show Me state had lived up to its name. We visited St. Louis and the arch in 1997 for a very brief, and now very blurred, drive-through trip, and other than perhaps driving through it as a child with my parents, I had never been to Missouri.

But, you see, back in 2010 I stumbled onto the sweet scrapbooking nectar of the sketch a la Scrapbook Generation, and it wasn't long before I was one of their avid fans. I drooled over every Allison Davis layout long before I knew what Hall of Fame was, and the clean linear style displayed in their sketches and in their work was one to which I always and immediately gravitated. Once I put two and two together and found out that I could use their design work to play with on my own, I was hooked and set about to budget for and snag all of their sketchbooks. I will tell you from that moment to now, I can count on probably one hand the number of layouts I have created that does not use one of their sketches. When they went to electronic sketch downloads in 2013, I was truly in heaven, since I just might have a reputation for my affair with instant gratification. 

So way back in 2010, Scrapbook Generation sent out an email to its customer base, announcing Scrapapalooza. Scrapapa - whata? A crop. A mega crop. A crop with 350 women. A crop with 350 women and an onsite store. A crop with 350 women, on onsite store, classes being taught by Allison Davis, and oh yeah, don't forget the chocolate fountain. Hey, they had me at CROP. Everything else after that was just fruit for that fountain! My incredible and amazing husband did not think I was zany for wanting to go, and in fact agreed to take me. The boys were providentially out of town with a church event, and so plans were made!

The crop was registered for, the hotel was booked, the bags were packed, and the course was set. We would head up Friday night after work, I would crop on Saturday, while Steve would explore the metropolis of Springfield, and then we would head home Sunday. And oh my goodness, you would have thought I was a kid headed to the North Pole in December!

I couldn't believe I was going to get to go to meet the people that had revolutionized and re-energized my scrapbooking, and I would also get to learn from them, and scrapbook under their watchful eye. I can still remember this trip so well. We grabbed a quick dinner Friday evening at Culver's in McKinney before heading due north, and then we were bound for Missouri. Show Me state or bust. What a terrible ride through Oklahoma! Bad roads, small towns, speed zones, traffic lights, 18-wheelers. No matter. We were focused on the destination, not the journey itself. 

Some trips are that way -- where it's all about where you are going to end up, versus how exactly you get there. I'm okay with that. Not every trip is a scenic drive though the Natchez Trace. We were together, and we were headed toward fun. Well, at least I was anyway. ;-) Steve was really just a tag-a-long on this trip more so than any other time, and we were both okay with that. We just truly like being together in any fashion. Always have, always will.

We arrived in Springfield safe and sound. Saturday morning found me bright and early toward the back of the line, waiting for the big doors to open up and admit us to 12 hours of cropping heaven. Steve helped me unload at the curb in that early blinding summer morning sun. It was hot already, I do recall. Even that was okay. It was a wonderful day, all that I hoped for. The Show Me state delivered! I came away from the day with some pages done, but more importantly, I learned some things that day, and even better, I made some new friends. I might even have snagged a few more sketchbooks and paper packs. A road trip just doesn't get any better than that. 

Sure, we stayed at a cheesy little hotel, ate a lot of chain restaurant food, drove more miles than is normal in a weekend, but it was an adventure, to be sure. I love my guy. I love our spirit of adventure. And I'm game for any road trip anytime. If it includes scrapbooking, that's all the better. But usually most of them just include making memories. And that's okay, too. It gives me something to scrap about later. 

We love that Disney/Pixar movie Up. Love the cute characters, the love story, the silly little boy, the crotchedy old man, but mostly we love the message. Adventure is out there! Yes, yes it is! And I aim to keep finding it, one road trip at a time.
  

Road Trip ~ Headed to Scrapapalooza ~ June 2011

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation 

Paper: Bo Bunny

Cork: My Favorite Things

Title: Silhouette Cut File

My Little Punkin Head

I think Steve and I have adapted fairly well to both boys spreading their wings and launching to college campuses that are 600+ miles from home. I think we really have. I love that he and I have time together, and I am naturally one to crave peace and quiet. Goodness knows we have both of those now in plenty. All in all, life is fairly good presently for all four of us, and we are all enjoying where life's path currently has us placed. I will say, though, that it is hard on me to miss celebrating my April birthday boy's big day with him on the day. Oh, yes, I am that girl. I believe in a birthday day. I was raised with it. Growing up, it meant we had a chore free day that started with being sung to in bed, and it ended with a home-cooked family meal around the formica table that was one of our choosing. Good times, those childhood birthdays. 

As I grew up, I was for the evolution of the birthday day to a birthday week, which gave way to a birthday month. Oh, the birthday month is only in my head. Dear hubby won't play along with it. {I guess I am already far too big of a brat for his indulgence.} ;-) But, birthday month nonetheless do I have. And my Philip ascribes to the birthday month notion as well. It is nice to not be the only one in the family as such. :-) So now this April birthday boy of mine has turned twenty and twenty-one without me, celebrating his day in Nashvegas among his college friends.  Without me there to celebrate with him. He ought to be ashamed. ;-) It's just another measurable moment that gives proof to his emerging adulthood. 

This past April, that little adorable baby boy of mine turned the big twenty-one. Now, our sons enjoy our company, but when it got down to it, it just didn't seem like us visiting him on campus that weekend would be how he would want to celebrate his big day. Steve and I are not that hip. ;-) So, we sent Andrew from Denver to Nashville in our stead. Andrew doesn't have Friday class anyway, so he flew over on Thursday evening and was there on the big birthday day, on Friday, April 10, when Philip Edward turned twenty-one. 

He's a long way from that little punkin head now, isn't he? Somehow both of my tow-headed blonde little boys turned into redheads. Redheaded young men with big red beards. Yes, he is older, and yes, every day is a gift. It has been my absolute joy and pleasure to have a front row seat in the metamorphosis of little blonde Philip to big tall red-headed Philip. 

There are parts of him that have remained constant throughout his life, the chief component being his strong and undying affection for all things Star Wars. He was collecting the little figures before he could even properly pronounce them, and somewhere in storage right now are the remnants of his Star Wars Micro Machine collection, including the big Death Star. He has always been a reader. He has always been a gamer. He has always loved traditions. He has always loved for the four of us to be together. He has always laughed heartily at the antics of his brother. He has always loved animals. He has always been quick to smile, and quick to frown, ever expressive, letting us know quickly and easily where he stood on things. He has always loved fruit and sweet drinks, travel and adventure, trying new things, and having some stay at home downtime.

He is developing an affinity for photography. He secretly nurses the skill of writing. He yearns for a life of purpose. I cannot see past the curve in the earth, and neither can he, and so we wait expectantly to see how his life fully unfolds, and to see what fork in the road God will lead him to. It is such a gift for me to continue to see him grow, even though physically he won't get any taller. His growth now will predominantly be on the inside, as he continues to be molded by life choices and his burgeoning adulthood personal decisions.

If I could wish anything for him, it would be to live in his skin comfortably, to own completely all of his gifts, and to set about to use them with the greatest purpose imaginable. I feel like he can do this. I feel like he will do this. And I aim to sit and watch and enjoy the show for as long as possible. We had an absolutely wonderful time celebrating his birthday during our May family vacation. I know that our time together is less frequent than any of us would like, but I am forever grateful that we do all enjoy being together, and that we have such fun together. It may have been his birthday, but celebrating it together in May was my gift.

Look who's 21! My little punkin head, that's who. Happy Birthday, Philip. Thank you for being a gift in 1994, and every day of your life since then. 

Look Who Is 21 ~ Philip's Birthday ~ April 2015 ~ as seen in CREATE by Scrapbook Generation

This layout was featured in the September issue of Create by Scrapbook Generation which can be seen here on their website. 

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation 

Paper: Carta Bella, Jillibean Soup, We R Memory Keepers

Chipboard: Cosmo Cricket

Stickers: Simple Stories

Souvenirs of My Past

It's probably a little silly - that degree to which I love NSD. {I also think it's funny that it rhymes with LSD, which is very bad for you, whereas NSD is very good for you.} Of all the thoughts and memories and ideals I have imbedded in me from nine years as a Creative Memories consultant, setting to the side some lifelong friends that are the very best treasure, I would say that NSD was probably the best takeaway I gleaned from CM, and probably one of their greatest ideas.

National Scrapbook Day was initiated by Rhonda Anderson and Cheryl Lightle, Creative Memories co-founders, in May 1995 and it included an official proclamation by the governor of Minnesota. Of course, that made it officially national. ;-) I was a fairly new consultant at the time, and most importantly I was six months pregnant with my youngest son. Hauling CM inventory around to sell at home classes was one thing. Doing it pregnant was totally another. I guess that is why the first ever NSD is indelibly etched in my brain. And today, just like 21 years ago, women are gathering to celebrate NSD.

Oh, scrapbooking and I have sure come a long way in two decades of women gathering everywhere to scrap together on the first Saturday in May. Today marks that anniversary, and this 21st NSD finds me just as in love as ever with my beloved hobby. Just think - I have been scrapbooking for 21 years, and I have the wall of albums and scrap stash to prove it!  ;-) That's almost half of my life! I think what I love the most about my hobby, as I analyze it, is that I have passed the tipping point and can now say that I have been scrapping outside of CM for more years than I scrapped inside it. For over a decade now I have been just a regular scrapper, having tendered my CM resignation in May 2004 after 9 1/2 years of sharing how to create, preserve and remember. September 2015 will be the 21st anniversary of my starting to scrapbook. 

I can say that after all this time, even with the boys gone, and the shutter on the camera clicking less and less often, I absolutely love my hobby more than ever. I have a broad base of friends that share this hobby with me and I have an incredibly supportive husband, who never minds me piddling in my room, and I have my little bi-monthly allowance that hasn't been eradicated by tuition bills, and I have access to a plethora of incredible supplies, at both a store that is 66 miles from me, where I can go when I absolutely need to touch and feel a room full of paper and have three hours to spare, and an online store whose incredible service and free shipping options make "getting my fix" sometimes far too easy. 

I have celebrated NSD with both of "my stores". The Crafty Scrapper puts on an incredible weekend retreat each year on NSD weekend and Scrapbook Generation does an all out online event {and also an event in their store} that allows me to play along from the nook in my home that I have christened Scrap Central. There's just something fun and celebratory and slightly decadent about having a DAY that is earmarked National Scrapbook Day. If you want to roll it into a weekend retreat, or a week long online store sale, I'm down with that. What these two stores have in common, though, is that I found both of them through Two Peas in a Bucket.

Two Peas led me to Creating Keepsakes events, which led me to the Great American Scrapbook Convention, which led me to the booth that The Crafty Scrapper had there. I remember looking up TCS on a Saturday in April when Steve and I were taking a road trip, and we happened to drop into their store on their birthday bash. I can still remember the joy and camaraderie that day being palpable in the store, and I knew I wanted to be a part of that. Years of traversing the miles to the store for crops, classes, retreats, and card stock runs have been such a treasure for my heart. I even guest designed for them briefly and that was an added honor. TCS restored my faith in the sisterhood of scrapping, and taught me how to connect and create and craft and collect. I am so thankful for their store and all the lovely talent there. The owner, Carolyn, is just an energetic jewel and I never get enough time with her. She's an incredible lady. I still love TCS and just can't find enough time it seems to make that trek. I was able to go help them celebrate their 10th anniversary a few weekends ago, and I know I will be back there in a couple of weeks as I head south to retreat with my scrapping peeps.

Two Peas also led me to Scrapbook Generation. I don't think any of my online friends really can recall exactly WHO posted the first thread on the General Scrapping message board about the sketch books from Scrapbook Generation. But, I know that I bought my first two in January 2010, and started following their blog right around that same time. Shortly thereafter, I subbed to their Super Saver Sketch Club, and received my first ever SS kit for the March layouts on my porch in April 2010. Oh, those were life changing days! I can tell you that I was made for sketch books. I have that need for creativity...and order. The clean lines of the sketch books brought me back internally to my journalism/yearbook training and gave me a form that supported my going off the CM grid, and how to really have fun with a blank 12x12 canvas. So, this is my fifth NSD with SG. I keep hoping one year I can actually SPEND NSD at SG, but it will have to fall right on the calendar with work scheduling, because the first of the month is always full and busy at work. Now, I have been blessed to meet the SG team and crop with them several times. They are just like Lay's Potato Chips thought - you can't stop at just one! I love these ladies, marvel at their creativity, and depend on their inspiration. I am so incredibly blessed to be part of their CREATE team. 

It's funny that in 21 years of NSD that I have morphed from a gal hosting events for others, to a gal going to events with others, to a gal staying home alone, dependent on the internet for a little interaction and a ton of inspiration. I guess my scrapbooking journey is really trekking along the same path as society. The internet has changed us all - for good or bad - with it's opportunities to "connect" with others. I cannot deny though that the online crops and at home events are the easiest to pack for. ;-) 

I created this layout below in 2013 more than likely, if I do some detective work on the supplies used. It is an SG sketch of course, and I know I used my Silhouette to cut that title and the little cameras. The photos are from NSD 2011, the next to last NSD that I would spend online at Two Peas. {Who could predict their demise?} I am thankful that I snapped some photos that day - and that I had Steve take a picture of me sitting at my computer. As it turns out, I am looking at an ad for the Scrap 'n Easel on my computer, which seems fitting, since I do a fair amount of online scrap shopping. ;-) That year, NSD 2011, was the kick off of my scrapping our 2010 vacation for which I used Basic Grey Wander. I just love my paper. I just love my hobby. I guess you could say I am still crazy about scrapping after all these years. 

Happy National Scrapbooking Day to you -  whether this is your first NSD or, like me, your 21st. Take some time to document your scrappy life. You just never know what is around the corner, and it's always a good thing to create, preserve, and remember. I love the quote at the top that SG posted on Tuesday of this week. It's true. And I like to think of each one of my layouts as a souvenir of my past - a very special memory that I was blessed to live through and cobble together a story to tell of it. Happy Scrapping!

National Scrapbook Day ~ An Homage to Online Crops ~ May 2011

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation I think - confirming from friend - I did a lift for a challenge

Paper: October Afternoon

Title Font: Lavenderia

Editors Note: I changed the layout for this story because I realized this morning after I published this post that I had already blogged that layout. So, then!, I decided I needed to do another layout about NSD since I have only ever done that other one. So, I CAN do a layout in an afternoon - this proves it. And how fun to scrap about NSD ON NSD??!! Thanks Rona/Jaffa for the inspiration for the layout and thanks SnY Tink for the challenge to scrap lift a friend.

Peanut Butter Eggs and Polka Dotted Swiss

Easter is kind of a crazy holiday. It moves all over the calendar, acting as capriciously as the very eggs themselves that you try to dye. I will never forget the very first year we lived in North Texas. My deep south Texas mom planning mode found the perfect short-sleeved pastel shirts for the boys that matched my sleeveless dress. A cold front blew in, and I have photos of us standing near budding trees, wind blowing our hair, freezing.

As a child, Easter to me meant matching dresses for me and my sisters that mother would whip out on her sewing machine, and specifically I recall the tortures of laced necklines and stiff polka dotted swiss that both itched like the blazes during church. I always loved picking out my new white patent leather shoes, and I remember being delighted the year that I graduated from knee socks to white tights. I also remember treading oh, so carefully on those virginal white shoes, not wanting any scuff marks to mar their sparkling new status. I also loved a little white beaded handbag one year. I believe it was the same year I got those white tights. Oh, I had it going back in the day.

As I aged and entered adulthood, Easter became a jumbled chaos of pinks and blues and baskets of candy, and Steve and I, childless at the time, were the designated egg hunt hiders, choosing to head outside with baskets overbrimming with eggs to be hidden, rather than stay inside and try to manage a herd of children eager to hunt for the chocolate that would be over their eating allotment, partially melted, and offer a perennial mess, including but not limited to the little discarded pastel foil wrapper balls that would be found in nooks and crannies for weeks to come. Children too eager to eat more candy on the sly could never be bothered to head to the trashcan with those. 

When Steve and I moved an hour north of my family in Houston, we became a tour spot on the Easter rounds, our home now perfect for hosting the family Easter gathering. Our heavily treed backyard and lush grass, along with our large deck, was an excellent spot for activities relating to Peter Cottontail, et. al. However, the Easter twenty-one years ago was slightly different. Instead of hiding the eggs, I was the egg. I was 38 weeks pregnant at the time, and decked out for the sunny spring afternoon in a jersey knit top that was full of tiny flowers. I remember going to the OB the morning after Easter, and him fussing at me over my weight gain. I assured him it was the salt from the Easter ham and the fluid would come off.

Well, indeed it did. That Easter Sunday in 1994 was April 3. The following Saturday, 11 days early, I went into labor and my own little bundle of joy appeared just after midnight on Saturday, giving our first child a birthdate of Sunday, April 10.  If I could have been a little faster, he would have had the coolest birthday - 4-9-94. Alas, I didn't make the midnight mark and settled for the 11 day early feat.

Easters took on another new meaning at this juncture. Little boys in dandy matching outfits with cute coordinating socks and shoes, Easter hunt outfits for playing in, and parents wanting a nap at about the moment the sugar high kicked in for the kiddos. We moved around the state, and took our little boys with us, keeping to the simple Easter traditions we had that of course always included starting the day at church.

While growing up in my house had included the age old tradition of dying Easter eggs every year the Saturday before Easter, as the photo above documents, Steve and I never implemented that tradition with our sons. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that Steve worked every year on the Saturday before Easter or not. It never was appealing to me. No one would eat those eggs, and they just easily cracked and were quite the mess. Warm gulf Easters could even have the dye coming off on your hand if the hunt ran long. We were none the worse for wear by skipping it. Paas had nothing to offer me and each year I skipped over that egg dying kit on the Target aisle, no regrets.

One year, 2010 to be exact, the boys got a wild March hair and wanted to pick up one of those Paas kits. Now, mind you, they are 14 and 15 years old at this point, and since I imagined the mess could be managed easily enough, I acquiesced. We bought the kit and the Saturday before another April Easter, we dyed Easter eggs. Our one and only time. I think the boys kind of felt like Steve and I about it - once you've done it, it's enough. They were really cute in the moment - quite proud of their feats. I still smile when I see these photos and remember these tall lanky boys, headed into manhood, wanting to dye eggs and really enjoying it.

Easter has changed once again. We celebrated our first Easter on Sunday where there were no Orange Danish for breakfast, no new clothes in the house, no baskets to prep, no candies to shove into eggs. It was a little melancholy to say the least, Reese's Peanut Butter eggs offering me no comfort. I was open to embracing the change as an opportunity to soak in the true import of the day, and we had an amazing worship service at church no doubt. We changed the restaurant where we ate, and invited two dear friends to go with us. We had a wonderful day, truly. But in my heart I was thinking about all the Easters past, full of baskets and boys and bunnies, and  wishing for just a simple case of Easter Egg-citement.

A Simple Case of Easter Egg-citement ~ Easter Weekend ~ April 2010

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Echo Park, Lawn Fawn, October Afternoon, W R Memory Keepers

Title Font: Eggcream Title Stickers: October Afternoon