A picture always tells a story

Some more of my favorites.

Advertisements

Amateur Photographer

I love taking pictures.

Of EVERYTHING!

If it impacts me a certain way, I take a picture.

Some people may be annoyed with it.

I have a decent digital camera, but I seriously don’t know how to use it.

So many settings.

Buttons, filters…

I capture as many great things as I can on my phone.

I capture life, beauty, special moments and places.

Do I take too many photos?

I think I make so many moments become great memories.

I remember growing up and my parents would take pictures of birthdays and holidays and other odds and ends.

Then, they eventually got around to taking them to get developed. Only to find that so many, now printed pictures, were garbage.

I can capture a moment in time. Now.

This is a view I couldn’t pass up this evening.

I can draw!

Somewhat.

I am a super creative person. Crafty and artistic.

I laughed recently as I was cleaning out the closet and reorganizing some boxes.

On any given day, I can pretty much guarantee that if you need or want to do some kind of project, I have the tools necessary to complete it.

Need a basket? I have some, with or without a handle?

Iron on letters, ribbon, artificial flowers, several types of adhesives…beads, buttons and yarn. To name a few.

I am literally a tiny craft store.

A lot of my stuff comes in handy when a makeshift repair needs made. Like a jewelry making ring to act as a zipper pull.

But, drawing is something I am only so so with.

I used to put little notes in my 9 year olds lunch bag.

But, that got boring. Recently, I began making drawings of some of their favorite characters.

I google pictures of them, and after my kiddos go to bed, I draw.

So now, it has become such a hit that I get special requests.

My preschooler doesn’t do lunch, but she has begun to make requests.

I don’t draw every night. Sometimes I am just too tired. I have also tried and failed with some.

There are way better artists out there.

But, I can only imagine the smiles on their faces when they see what I have drawn.

My oldest has started to hang them on the bulletin board in her room.

She loves Mario and a game called Five Nights at Freddies.

We all like Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon.

It’s fun to see what I can actually draw.

It is also super fun to do something special for my girls.

I’m gonna’ write a book

Yes, I know “gonna” is not correct.

I excelled in school at english and writing.

It has always been something I enjoy.

I used to write poetry all the time.

So now, I am going to try my hand at a book.

What about, you ask?

I could write about my life. All its ups and downs and twists and turns.

But, one little girl inspired me.

I am going to write a kids book.

One evening, my 4 year old was drawing with her sisters.

She came to me proudly holding a piece of paper. She was happy to show me her latest picture.

As she explained to me each character and what was going on, my eyes kept going back to one specific doodle.

I kept thinking how damn cute this little guy is.

He needed a name. So I asked her what she would name him.

She called him Barnie. I went for the non-traditional spelling so as not to be confused with that other once famous character.

So, here we have Barnie. This cute, little, and happy character.

I have to write a story about him.

I have actually finished a rough draft of the story and what goes on each page.

And because my daughter created this character, she is going to supply the illustrations.

This may take time. But, it will be so worth it. I am going to gather her drawings and use them in the book.

My idea may go nowhere.

And that is ok. I will get to scratch something off my bucket list and make a memory with my child.

I hate Wednesdays

Every week, Wednesday is a crappy day.

I call it transition day.

That is the day I say my super “goodbyes” and “I love you’s” before they get on the bus.

That is the day I have to ride my preschooler to school and not come back for her.

Oh how my heart aches.

I know it is only a few days. I know it gives me more of a chance to relax and breathe. As much as I can with a three month old in the house.

But, I hate them.

Every Wednesday I think about my girls almost non stop. Hope they are having a good day. Which I basically do every day, but Wednesday I know I won’t get to see their smiling faces as they get off the bus. I won’t get the chance to ask them “how was school?”.

I don’t get to pick my 4 year old up from school and spend the next few hours with her without her older sisters.

Not to mention, Wednesdays seem to be particularly rough for her. Sometimes having break downs in school.

Wednesdays may be hump day for those who work. Yes, it’s the middle of the week and getting closer to the break the weekend offers.

For me, it’s the beginning of the count down until I see my girls faces again. One of the worst things about divorce.

So this morning, as I drove my one princess to school, we laughed and we talked and her happiness made me smile.

That song “Feel it still” was on the radio. (The only thing I can think of when I hear it, is that dude on the treadmill). I don’t normally listen to the radio because it is not my genre of music, but she was grinning and grooving. Like any mom would, I joined in.

I captured that moment at a red light.

And it has had me smiling ever since.

So, I am going to try to make the best of the time they are away. Because, in a few days, I have the opportunity to make more memories with them. That is something to look forward to.

My mom

We certainly have history. A lot of it bad. 

I have learned a lot in the past year since my divorce was finalized. 

A lot about myself, and a lot about life. 

My mom and I have a toxic relationship that erupted after I was married for a bit. 

I don’t necessarily know why I acted the way I did. 

I just know that I didn’t feel like myself in my marriage. In turn it made me act not myself. 

So, to simply explain the troubles, my mom has always been a little “off” as far back as I can really remember. As I got older it became more difficult to deal with her erractic behavior. 

My parents fought daily, and my mom seemed to become more insane. 

Truth is, she was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder, maybe a few years ago, but refuses to accept treatment for it. 

So, regardless, she is still extremely difficult to deal with. 

After all that I have been through, I finally realized how important family is. 


Every fricken day I am reminded. 

So, I decided to write my mom a letter. Heartfelt, apologetic, and real. 

It has been nearly a month since I sent it. 

I have received no response. 

There really isn’t much more I can do. 


I have learned a lot from my mom. All the little things she used to go out of her way and do for us, just to get some smiles, I find myself doing with my girls. 

But, I also vowed to never be the negatives I saw growing up. 

I saw her struggles and how she lived selflessly and unhappy. 

That was not going to be me. I love my dad, but my parents should have been divorced long ago. 

I refuse to live in misery and not live my life. 

I want happiness. I want peace. I want my family. 

I took a nasty road to get there, but I made it. Now, I am just trying to repair the damage I created. 

What will be, will be. I won’t hold my breath. 

What’s in a name? 

I have been purging like crazy around the house. Gotta tell you, it is liberating. 

It is almost like a light suddenly went off in my head and I was free. 

Like I have said before, divorce is not easy. Regardless if you started it. Regardless if you are happy now.

So much comes with it. Even though I can look back and evaluate some of the events and feelings I had, and know that everything happens for a reason, the transition from what you know to the unknown is scary, stressful and new. 

There are times of adjustment. It has been nearly a year since the divorce was finalized. I feel so eager to move on. 

Bags of clothes, not worn in years. Why was I keeping them? I bought them because I thought they were cute, but not for me. I was trying to live somebody elses life. 

Seriously, this is how I felt when putting on dresses or pant suits…


But, I came across my wedding outfit. You see I ran off to Hawaii when I was 23 years old and married a Marine I met on online that I barely knew. 

I have always been bold. But, I think I took this journey because it was to teach me a lesson about life, family and love. 

So, after 13 years, I put that outfit on, was curious to see how it fit. The waist was a little loose. 


But, more importantly, that musty and dingy white outfit went into the trash pile. And it felt great. 

All over the house I was purging, ran out of garbage bags, boxes and energy, but I wanted to keep going. 

I found some things I no longer wanted or needed. I found some things I had forgotten about. 

I found a box of rubber stampers that I completely forgot existed. 

In the box of stampers was a bunch of dried out stamp pads and one stamper of my first name. 


I remember growing up, hating my name. Mellow yellow, mellon ball, smelly melly. 

I hated it. I wanted to change it, and to me the most logical name was “Jeremy”, because that was the popular song by Pearl Jam at the time. 

I was always so pissed that my name was never common enough to be on key rings, pencils and plastic cups. But, my mom found me this stamper. 

I didn’t change my name. The thought fleeted me after awhile I guess. I grew to understand my name better. Those who called me Mel, were close friends. Melanie was the formal name, and if you chose to call me Mel and I didn’t think we were close enough, I was usually offended. 

My name is mine. It fits me, and I no longer cringe when I hear it. 

Letting go of parts of my past one day at a time. I am completely ready for this new journey now.