This post is going to be all yin-yang for you.
It's going to start of nostalgic and sweet, and then get all gangsta' rap...okay?
In June we visited Grandma Cookie for a few days.
We were in town because I was shooting a wedding.
My Grandma, aka Grandma Cookie is 92.
I spent many childhood days at her house, in the grape field, running around in the powdery dirt, eating fresh tomatoes, and saving wildlife.
I have the happiest memories there of swinging, visiting Chuck-E-Cheese, shopping at the mall, picking hydrangeas, and walking to the canal.
My days at Grandma's house were like shortbread cookies.
Shortbread cookies don't need any frills.
No "wow" factor.
They are amazingly delicious and fulfilling all on their own.
The buttery goodness is enough.
Grandma's house is a shortbread cookie.
There's a satisfaction in knowing that my children get a taste of their own shortbread cookie.
Their own experiences, making their own memories, and letting the tenderness of Grandma Cookie's love build a space in their hearts of fondness.
I'm so grateful for this time with her.
While sitting in her dining room, looking out her crystal clean windows at a garden that you can't believe a 92 year old woman still cares for, I watched my kids make memories. I watched them build that space in their hearts.
It made my heart satisfied.
Macy and Zach found a little bird that had fallen out of the nest. They named her Brooke. And for the next two days the kids cared for her, dug up worms, fed her water, had their crazy mom remind them every few minutes to, "WASH YOUR HANDS!!!" And, they made the same memory that I did when I was a kid. Under the magnolia tree, they played and pretended, and cared for Brooke. It was satisfying. While my mom looked on (she was there with us too visiting) I wondered what was happening in her heart. 4 generations together. Making memories under the magnolia tree. I didn't have to wonder for very long, because it couldn't have been any different than what I was feeling and I could tell, it was a shortbread cookie.
Enter heavy bass beat.
Saturday was the day of Caroline and John's beautiful wedding.
Gorgeous stained glass windows, pretty sunflowers, intimate family affair, homemade cupcakes, perfect reception restaurant.
Very, very bad seam.
Because you see, this girl right here.... knows all the words to "Baby Got Back."
Which really is sooo wrong because I learned all those said lyrics at junior high school dances.
Have you actually READ those lyrics?
But I know every. single. one.
So apparently I ate waaaay too many cookies at Grandma Cookie's house, because here's what happened.
I turned into a real life rap song
"I mean, her butt, is just so big.
I can't believe it's just so round, it's like,
out there, I mean - gross. Look!"- Sir Mix A Lot
"Caroline, put your head on John's shoulder..."
"Okay, now John, kiss her...."
"Good, okay...let's take some more when you guys come back from your limo ride...."
"Steve (who is my amazing husband-assistant) I need some water stat..."
....insert long stare of awkwardness from Steve, who comes over to my ear to whisper,
"Um, I'm not sure how to tell you this, and I don't know when it happened or what to do, but you split your pants."
It's kinda like one of those moments where your life flashes before your eyes, except this wasn't a retelling of my whole entire life, only a quick snapshot review in my mind of all the places I've been in the last two hours with my bootie sticking out to get the best shot.
With lime-green granny panties.
It's a big rip.
Right along the seam.
Lots of lime green.
My cardigan does NOT have long arms.
I cannot do a simple "wrap my sweater around my waist."
This girl is resourceful though.
I took my camera belt clip and shoved my cardigan around it and created a curtain.
Not my most professional look ever, but certainly more appropriate than lime green chonies.
And I moved on.
Because cupcakes needed to be captured people.
In the back of my mind I kept thinking, this is going to make for a great blog.
And the rest of the night went off without a hitch.
I even got to dance with Steve at the end to Vanilla Ice.
Yes, I'm that kind of photographer.
i amand i also know all the lyrics to the humpty dance.