Let it snow, let it snow...

Lexi and Kya say to Mother Nature..."Bring it!!"

And now for something completely different

Presenting my son's Thanksgiving story that he wrote for school. He's in 4th grade. I left his grammar basically the way he wrote it with just the changes he said he should've made and some added paragraph breaks to help make it easier to read.
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Hello. My name is Greg, the International Spy and my brothers Skippy and Taco. They don't have jobs. But the story begins in Cheeseville, NY.

Bzzzzzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzz!

Now that was Old Tipper testing his new chainsaw. Then he went inside the farm. "Well," I said, "He's going to cook us all!" Taco reacted by grabbing an egg and threw it at the rooster. The rooster got hit in the face and he screamed. Well, Taco wasn't very smart at all. And Skippy...well let's just say he's near crazy.

"Hey!" yelled Old Tipper. "Who left the bacon on the floor?" "Gloop!" yelled Taco. "Oh be quiet." said Skippy. "No!" yelled Taco. Believe it or not this argument lasted for two years. Then Old Tipper put us in the refrigerator. "How are we going to escape now?" I asked. "The North Pole!" shouted Taco. And by now you probably realized that Taco is not smart and sometimes funny. Skippy sighed. Then Taco began to lick all the food. Every bit of it. Outside the refrigerator was Old Tipper who finally got his chainsaw to work! His wife, Mrs. Tipper, was sitting on the table.

"Okay." said Old Tipper. "Hold those chickens and I'll do the rest. So she took all of us out of the refrigerator and flushed us down the toilet. "Why did you do that?!!!" asked Old Tipper. "That was our Thanksgiving dinner." "Oh really?" asked Mrs. Tipper. "AAAAAHHH!" screamed Skippy as we fell into the sewers. "Oh yuck!" I yelled. We saw dead fish, rotten apples, and even trash cans. "I wonder how they got trash cans in the toilet?" said Skippy looking very interested. Well soon we were walking through this smelly place. But when we got out we saw an airplane. "Cool!" we all said. Then we got in. Soon we were off and one of the wings of the airplane slashed right through the Tipper's house! "I think there's someone at the door." said Mrs. Tipper. "I'll get you one day chickens!!" yelled Old Tipper. "We're not chickens!" I said. "We're TURKEYS! There's a difference!"

Old Tipper opened the fridge and ate some bacon. "Hey!" said Old Tipper. "Why is everything wet?"

The End.
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And that my friends comes from the mind of my son.

"Dear Santa Paws, we want a new mom..."

It just had to be done. How could I let a year go by where I was shooting Santa Paws and not get pictures of my girls? That's like sacreligious. And although DH really, really, really did not want to bring them down, he did. So he's partially to blame for the traumatizing. I told him to come in around 3:15 because I knew by then we'd be close to being finished and they wouldn't have to wait around. The door opened and not only did I see my girls, I heard Kya scream. She was so sure that wherever they were headed was not a good place. Both of them were alternating between the splayed-legs-no-I-don't-want-to-see-what's-behind-door-#1 thing and walking on their own volition. They were slightly excited to see me however that quickly faded when they realized there was a big man in a bright red suit--and the fact that I was chasing them around with some crazy looking thing that had bells on it, trying to put it over their heads. We were spared anymore screaming (amazingly enough) but we had to pick them up and place them ourselves. Then Lynne had to hide behind Kya to make sure she didn't scoot out--which she had tried to do earlier--while Troy squeeked some toys and I snapped quickly. Two shots later we were done. I think DH was less than impressed, but the girls were very happy to get as far away from Santa as possible. I didn't see any bolting out of the doors on the way out, but I can only guess they chastised DH the entire way home. Plus, I think I overheard one of them tell Santa Paws that they wanted a new mom...and dad...for Christmas.

They did, however, cuddle with me that night so I think I am forgiven. For all I know, they blame DH. Afterall, he was the one that brought them down there.

And now for your viewing pleasure...the girls and the big guy in the red suit.

Saturday was a hit

Last Saturday, I shot over 70 pets and their people, which raised over $1400 for the Humane Society! Go Santa Paws! Although it was mainly dogs there were a few cats and all of them were oh so cute. Also, none of them peed. A small miracle at that. Usually we have at least one dog that pees. Then somewhere down the line the next dog smells the pee, despite the best efforts to clean it up completely, and subsequently pees as well. Par for the course. One thing that never ceases to amaze me are the dog wrangling skills of Lynne and Troy. Lynne is one tiny woman and Troy, though tall, isn't Arnold--but to watch these two in action you'd think your eyes were deceiving you. And, of course, I must tip my hat to the big guy...Santa. More often than not dogs come in scared out of their wits. The room we shoot in is foreign to them, has funny equipment, smells weird, and there's this big dude in a bright red suit and white beard wanting them to come sit with him. Not only that, but his mom and dad are making goofy faces, things are squeaking, and there's this bright flash that seems to come from nowhere. It's enough to turn even the most well-behaved dog into a snarling, snappy, attack dog. I am always awed at how calm the guys that play Santa remain. If it were me, I'd need Depends.

In the end it is so worth it for all parties involved. We all really do enjoy doing this. Each year Lynne and I sit down and discuss what new things we can offer to the public, background ideas, and anything else that can make this years' event even better than the previous years. It is both exciting and stressful as we truly want to make people happy and give them pictures they will cherish. Although we know that this is fast-paced, assembly-line, photography, we also want to do the best we can in the few minutes we have.

Apparently this year the talk around town is that the Humane Society's Santa Paws event is THE event to go to. That makes us all proud and we know it's because of the loyal people that turn out year after year, the new folks that show up to support a cause that it's worthwhile to them, and all the ones that spread the word. The staff at Bend Pet Express deserve a round of applause as well for their advertising, hosting of the space, and wonderful support. It is such a team effort and I am truly lucky, and glad, to be a part of it!

Yellow means stop--it does not mean go faster

I consider myself a good driver. I go 20 mph in the school zones. I stop for pedestrians. I let people merge. I don't speed...okay, so I typically go 10 mph over in certain areas, but who doesn't? I have never been pulled over before (knock on wood). But all good things must come to an end as I learned this past week. There is a horrible intersection that I hit on the way home from pretty much anywhere I come from. Horrible not in dangerous. Horrible in that the light takes forever and a day to allow me to get to where I need to be (a.k.a. my home). On Fri. I was headed to pick up the kids from school and came upon said intersection. The light turned green...a few cars moved up...then it turned yellow. While it was still yellow I entered the intersection and proceeded due East completely oblivious to anything but the time. The bell was set to ring in exactly 10 mins. and I do not like to be late. The last thing I want are my children to be afraid that their mom is not coming to get them. Thankfully I wasn't sooo oblivious that it didn't take too long for me to notice the flashing lights coming from behind me.

Oh those so aren't for me.

Yes, they are.

I pull to the side of the road, roll down my window, and turn off my car. I grab my license as even though I have never actually done the drill I have seen it on TV. The officer walks to my car and proceeds to tell me that the reason he has pulled me over is because I entered the intersection on a yellow.

"I thought it was okay to enter when it was yellow, just so long as it wasn't red?" I said. And I meant it. Somewhere, somehow my brain had been engrained to believe that entering on yellow is okay. Red, not okay. Green is good we all know that. But yellow was considered safe. You know...green means go, red means stop, yellow means hurry up and drive because the light is about to change. He informed me that it was not okay to enter on yellow (nor drive faster). I glanced at the clock...8 mins. and counting. I explained that I had to pick my kids up from school in 8 mins. and that I honestly thought it was okay to do this, but I understood that he had a job to do and that I was in the wrong--no matter what my brain told me (I did not, however, say that last part--I am only stupid to a small degree). He was very nice, told me that the two people ahead of me that had also entered on yellow could've been pulled over as well (that's just my luck isn't it?!), and that he would give me a warning and let me be on my way to pick up my kids. 6 mins. and counting. I hand over my license and he calls me in to make sure I'm not some drug dealer cruisin' in a stolen Hyundai and once that comes back clear he returns with my written warning.

"Okay, so it's not okay to enter on yellow EVER, correct?" I ask him.

He smiles.

"I'm not trying to be a smartass, I swear."

"I know," and then he tells me the law...the real law. He ends by saying that "this could've been a citation." I thank him and once again say that I had no idea.
"In Indiana it's okay to enter on yellow," I inform the cutie...I mean, officer.
"It is? Hmmm..." I am soooo thinking this is true and he's probably thinking I'm really, really stupid (because I am dead wrong--I just don't know it). 3 mins. and counting. Cutie...I mean, the officer, thanks me for being so agreeable and letting him do his job.
"Hey, no problem! My dad was a cop and I understand your position." 2 mins. and counting. He gets back in his car. I start my car, put my license in my purse, and pray that he is going the other way. As nice as he is I do not feel like driving the exact speed limit the entire way to pick up my kids. Thankfully, he goes the other way. I arrive just as the bell is ringing. I call my dad and inform him that his wonderful daughter just had her first brush with the law.

"I thought it was okay to enter on yellow," I half lament, half ask him.

"Actually, it's not. Yellow is meant to clear the intersection. The problem is that most cops don't enforce it because you're not running a red light, you're running a yellow light."

So how in the world does that translate to "this could have been a citation"?! I don't know. I do know that no matter what, it took me a half hour to stop shaking from the adrenaline and I was damned thankful that for once my stupidity actually helped me. I should be a blonde.

All you yellow light runners out there...knock it off. You could be next. And your cop might not be as nice.

I am thinking of sending him a thank you card and writing that even in Indiana I would've been wrong. I have no problems admitting when I'm wrong. My friends think this is a stupid thing to do to a cop. I think he'd like it. Plus I have the cutest cards that I made that would be fun to send him. It has a dog on it and everything...

Go Santa Paws...it's your birthday

I recently found out that all the appointments for this Saturday's Santa Paws event are booked. When Lynne from the Humane Society told me this I got all kinds of excited because the appointments are every 15 mins. "Man, that's a ton of people!!" I exclaimed. I didn't realize then that the kind of puzzled-okay, whatever you say-look Lynne gave me was because I am a total math dork. It has never been my strong suit. Even though I was once a drafter (that's right...I converted blueprints of houses into CAD drawings...which requires math) I have just never quite grasped it as much as one would think I should have. Imagine that very moment when while talking to my dad (I do that a lot) he informs me that 1 sitting every 15 mins. for 4 hrs. added up to a whopping 16 sittings. (Insert jaw drop here) Not quite what I had envisioned however it is still really good because last year I don't believe we booked all the appointments. Most people just came in and stood in line and yet it was busy, busy, busy--and raised over $4K. So even though it won't be hundreds of people with actual appointments (stupid math) I know that this year will be huge!

Those of you that haven't already booked your appointment for Saturday the 26th might want to try and get in now. Otherwise you are more than welcome to come on down, put your name on the list, check out my oh so cute Gina Alexander bags that I will be displaying, and all the other cool merchandise that Bend Pet Express offers. It's gonna be crazy AND fun!!

The Lexi-meister

Keep in mind that I have been both too busy and too lazy to take proper pictures of the gorgeous Lexi, but here are a few for your viewing pleasure. Yes, even professional photographers take crappy snapshots.

Lexi on bottom left, Kya on upper right--contemplating the meaning of life.

For the first few days, Kya kept trying to wrestle Lexi and Lexi kept going away. That has changed. Now Lexi layeths the smacketh down on Kya. Take that little sister.

I keep telling her she doesn't have to suck up to him, but she knows what charming a man can get you--food. And good food at that.

That's all for now. I swear I'll get some good ones and some that actually show Lexi's face soon. I want to have DH bring them to Santa Paws but he is convinced I will just traumatize them. I think they'd like to see Santa...and have a small woman man-handle them (lovingly of course)...and have a big guy with a mustache squeak things and make noises at them...and then have this bright ass flash go off in their faces multiple times. I mean, that sounds like fun to me!!

My ever lovin' search

Behold the thing that I covet. That's right...it's Tylenol PM with Vanilla. Why on Earth would anyone covet that you ask? I have no idea. But I wan't it. I'm sure it will not taste nearly as good as I am imagining it will. And I am sure that I will not wake up the next morning feeling refreshed and well-rested. I will instead feel as if I have taken something to help me sleep...which usually translates into groggy, blurry, and stumbly the next morning. Still, I want it. I went looking for it again last night and knowing that Fred Meyer's does not have it I hit Albertson's. And then Wal-Mart. Yes, I went into Wal-Mart for this golden liquid that will probably make me smack myself and say, "Why oh why did you want this for?!" when I actually do find and buy it. Mind you I was looking for it because I am sick. It is either a head cold or stress...or a combination of both...but I needed and wanted some relief. I told my dad about this prize of prizes and he had never heard of it. "Maybe it didn't do well so they pulled it," we reasoned. Maybe. Or maybe "they" just want to taunt me. Don't ask who "they" are because I couldn't tell you--but I can tell you that whenever life isn't going the way you want it to it's always fun to blame "them" or "they" or "those guys." Try it sometime. Back on subject: I am sick. Tylenol PM with Vanilla is for sleeplessness with pain. Not stuffiness, not mucous, not coughing, not anything like that. But I was so sure it would do the trick that I went out 30 minutes before my beloved Lost started in order to try and find that which I covet. Albertson's did not have it though they did have the other same-shaped-bottle-same-stuff-but-not-with-Vanilla-in-it medicine. I sighed and decided I would muster up what little strength I had to venture in to Wal-Mart on a Wed. evening. I was not disappointed by the interesting life stuff that usually can be seen going on inside the confines of Wal-Mart. There were two kids dressed in footy pajamas hanging out of baskets, there was a very tall woman wearing a "Nancy's Trucking" jacket (go Nancy!!), and tired, confused looking people at every turn. There was not, however, any Tylenol PM with Vanilla. There was the same-shaped-bottle-same-stuff-but-not-with-Vanilla-in-it-medicine all over the place, though. See...I told you "they" taunt me.

I settled for Nyquil. I am still high from Nyquil despite taking it at 10 p.m. last night and only taking 1 instead of the recommended 2. It did not taste like Vanilla. But then, I got the pills and not the liquid. I know better.

I will find that Tylenol PM with Vanilla. I will buy it. I will take it. And I will hate myself the next morning.

Santa Paws is coming

This will be my 3rd year doing the Santa Paws event for the Humane Society and I am stoked to be shooting it again. It is always fun seeing the different pets that people bring in and people that have supported this event year after year. We will be offering different sizes and Christmas Cards like last year however we're also adding folded cards to the mix. No matter what it's a great fundraiser that is a lot of fun for pets and their people.

Hope to see you at one of the locations and times below:

Saturday Nov. 19th -- 11 a.m. - 3 p.m. -- Westside Bend Pet Express
Saturday Nov. 26th -- 11 a.m. - 3 p.m. -- Eastside Bend Pet Express

Call 382-3537 to schedule an appointment or just come on down!

And then there were two...

Yesterday, DH, Kya, and I all drove 4+ hrs. to the Washington/Oregon border to pick up the newest addition to our family...Channahon's Kolexi of Saghalie (a.k.a. Lexi). She is a beautiful 2 yr. old Chinook that is just as sweet as can be. She and Kya are half-sisters (they share the same father) and Lexi was also half-sister to Toli (they shared the same mom). The car ride was completely unenventful as both girls did very well--despite Kya's constant bothering of Lexi. She is the typical little sister...has to do everything Lexi does, always jumping on Lexi, and generally just being a big pain in the ass to her. We figure that once Lexi is more settled that will change. :o)

When we arrived home last night Lexi was quite confused and scared. We let both girls out in the backyard and it took us over 30 mins. to convince Lexi it was okay to come back inside. Our hearts just broke for her as it does for her mom who had to give her up. We know with time and patience Lexi will be back to normal and we are giving her all the love and space she needs. This morning has proven much better as she has warmed up to the point that she was trying to jump up on me. Plus, I even got lots of kisses before I went to bed last night, so there's hope yet! She's a total sweetheart and I know she'll fit in perfectly here.

Today will be a big day for both of them. We're taking them both to the U-Wash so they can smell purty. Then the kiddos will be coming back from my dad's and will get to meet Lexi. They are both excited and nervous as I told them that Lexi is bigger than Kya. She was raised around kids about the same age as ours so hopefully she'll be extra gentle w/them. For now it seems that anytime I pet Lexi, Kya must stop whatever she is doing, run across the room, and be petted as well. (insert rolley eye icon here) :o) Both of us feel very lucky to have two Chinooks grace our presence and home and we feel very honored that Cheryl entrusted the care of Lexi to us.

Pictures coming soon! I didn't want to traumatize Lexi anymore than we already did. :oO

Veteran's Day

Because of my terribly awful, no good, very bad day yesterday, my dad called me up and asked me if the kids and I wanted to join him for breakfast. How could I say no?! A trip to The Original Pancake House--like there is any way I could turn THAT down. It is one of our very favorite places to eat at and has become a traditional birthday breakfast hot spot for my family. So the kids and I get up, dress/shower, and head out. Once we arrived we staked our claim on a large table, waited for my dad, then after he joined us and drinks were served, we proceeded to chat away.

Dad: "So Ian, do you know what today is?"
Ian: "Veteran's Day."
Dad: "Yes. And do you know what Veteran's Day is for?"
Ian: "Isn't it where all veterinarians take the day off?"
Dad: "Not quite."

It was all I could do not to spit out my decaf coffee. Needless to say, we told him the actual meaning behind Veteran's Day. So all you veterinarians get back to work. Except the one that killed our dog. She can take a permanent vacation.

Who's afraid of tornadoes?

I am. I grew up in Indiana...Evansville to be exact. I remember the tornadoes, the storms, the sirens, all of it. We always got lucky however. Although we had a few close calls, we were never actually hit by a tornado. This weekend the people of my hometown were not so lucky. The death toll is now up to 22 with quite a few more unaccounted for folks. Our family is safe and despite some of our close friends being way too close (2-3 blocks if that), it seems that all is well. I do have an overwhelming sense of needing to go there and help out, though. My only problem is I have obligations here that cannot be put off. Instead I sit here looking through the list of names and wondering if any of them were people I knew. Please keep Evansville and Newburgh (and the surrounding areas) in your thoughts. Many people lost everything...including family members.

To donate to the American Red Cross please go HERE and follow the instructions.

I, the Tooth Fairy, do hereby resign

I would so love to meet the genius that came up with this brilliant idea. What must have that conversation been like?

"Ya know, honey, I think we should tell little Jimmy that when he loses his teeth he can put them under his pillow and a magical fairy will come, take the tooth, and, and...and what?! There has to be a reason for Jimmy to leave his tooth and for the fairy to come. Wait, I have it. She'll leave him....MONEY! Yes, that's it...money. But what should we call this otherwordly creature that doesn't exist? Ah yes, we'll call her the Tooth Fairy!"

I'm sure it seemed like a grand idea at the time. Maybe little Jimmy was scared of losing his first tooth so his parents lied to make it easier for him. We do this. We don't like to see our kids scared so we tell them "The shot won't hurt," and other nonsense so they, and we, can make it through whatever crisis it is we are all dealing with at the moment. Course it usually backfires when our kid finds out the truth. "That shot did too hurt!" they yell as you watch their little souls lose faith in you just a tiny bit. But that's what we do and we do it with good intentions and once our kids grow up, they realize this, and turn into the same big fat liars we are...even though they promised themselves they wouldn't do that to their children.

But this Tooth Fairy thing...it's just got to go. The other day when I picked my kids up from school, my daughter came over to my side of the car and showed me the hole in her mouth where her once tiny tooth had been. She had been working on it for weeks, much to my horror (and her delight), she would push it forward, twist it (shiver), and with all her might tried to coax it out. Finally it happened (thankfully at school) and the tooth was sent home in a tooth coffin. We have seen the tooth coffin before and quickly learned that a tooth coffin under the pillow just isn't a good combination. It seems the Tooth Fairy can't get her weak, stubby arms under the pillow, open the tooth coffin, and retrieve her treasure. Because of this, we all decided it was best to put the tooth coffin on her dresser. This would make it easier for the Tooth Fairy--and we all want to make it easy on her because her life is tough enough as it is. My daughter knows the drill and dutifully put the tooth, in the tooth coffin, on the top of her dresser all the while wondering aloud what the Tooth Fairy would leave her and how she wanted to catch her in the act. Great...a challenge.

After my husband tucks them in he comes out and asks, "Do you have any ones?"
"No, I didn't go to the strip club this week." He knows I rarely carry cash. He's the cash hound, I'm the Visa/Debit girl. He checks his wallet. A 5-spot. He checks mine. Same thing. "This tooth ain't worth 5 bucks," I say. "Do I have any quarters?" He looks and sure enough I do. Lo and behold I have 4 of them. "That'll work." Pleased that we have solved this crisis for the time being we settle in for our nightime ritual of de-stressing. We watch TV. The husband goes to bed. I watch TV. I check my email. I go to bed.

7:30 a.m. -- my bedroom door opens and I hear sniffles. Oh crap. I already know what's coming. The Tooth Fairy was a no-show. My daughter doesn't understand why the Tooth Fairy didn't take her tooth. "She didn't even leave a note or nothing!" she cries. "hmmmm...well, maybe it was because the tooth was in the tooth coffin." "What?" "Uh, I mean the tooth box." After a lengthy discussion, she and I surmise that the slacker Tooth Fairy must have gotten confused (she's not a Purdue graduate, after all) and missed it. So much for the whole "all-knowing" hullabaloo that was previously associated with magical beings like the Tooth Fairy, Santa, the Easter Bunny, etc. We decide that this time we should put the tooth in a plastic baggy and put THAT under her pillow. Brilliant.

8:00 p.m.--My daughter is insisting that her father put her tooth in a plastic baggy. Luckily he was filled in on the whole fiasco from last night, so her request didn't seem that strange. The kids go to bed. We watch TV. Hubby goes to bed. I watch TV. I check my email. I get ready for bed. I go to bed. I get back out of bed. I search for the quarters. They are nowhere to be found. I wake hubby up. "Where are the quarters?" "On my thermos." Sure enough...right where I had looked (and didn't see), there are the four shiney quarters just waiting to take their place under my daughters' pillow. I think my husband didn't trust that the Tooth Fairy would get it right this time. :o/

Now, anyone that has ever had to creep into their kids' bedroom can relate to this. When you need to wake them up they won't hear a single noise. You can dance, you can jump, you can jiggle the doorknob, and they will keep on snoring as if you didn't exist. But when you are trying to be sneaky not only will every sound be amplified by a thousand, your child will hear every sound possible; including the shuffling of bare feet on carpet. I turned my daughters doorknob as slowly, as quietly, as restrained as I possibly could. I swear I may as well have been breaking in because it sounded the same. She sat up, mumbled something incoherently, and flopped back down. I waited with sweat starting to bead up on my forehead. Finally I heard the sounds of deep breathing so I knew it was safe to proceed. The next step was a dangerous one. My daughter sleeps with a nightlight on. Usually this comes in handy when you need to dodge the millions of toys that litter her bedroom floor, but I also know this could be the downfall of a parent up to no good--a.k.a. me. As soon as my body blocked that light her third eye was going to open up and tell her brain, "There is SOMEONE in your room!!!! WAKE UP!!!" Again, that's all fine and dandy if a prowler gets in but it truly sucks for the Tooth Fairy...I mean me. Seeing as how I know this I'd already devised a lie...errr plan for if her other eyes opened. Thankfully all she did was stir a bit, smack her lips, and did a spread eagle thing with her legs in the most unladylike fashion. I did have a moment of panic as it seemed she was searching for her comforter to cover up with, but she gave up after a few seconds. By this point that inner child in me was trying not to laugh. HARD. I guess it's because the whole situation was just so ridiculous that it struck me as funny. Plus I tend to get giggly when I know I'm doing something stupid and when I'm trying to be quiet it usually comes out more like snorts than giggles. Heavy, breathy, odd sounding snorts. I know this and knowing this makes it all the more difficult to keep from doing it. I slip the quarters under her pillow thinking that if she does wake up and checks for the Tooth Fairy to have come, I can lie and tell her I just wanted to tuck her in and "Oh look at that! The Tooth Fairy must have come and let you keep your tooth!" With a quick glance I knew it was now time to "easily" grab the plastic bag and pull it from under her head. One problem. I washed my face before all of this. That's not the problem. I applied lotion to my face before I went to bed. The lotion has made my fingers slippery. I can't grab the stupid plastic baggy. Now I am ready to burst. I have done well up until this point but I can literally feel the laughter bubbling up in my throat. As soon as I have what I've come for the next decision is whether to run out or do the quieter version and slowly walk out. I chose to walk. Remember that my dear daughter...I walked out biting my tongue just to keep the magic alive for you. I don't think I breathed the entire time.

As soon as I shut the door, stored the tooth in a hidden place, and crawled back into bed I told my husband that whoever created the Tooth Fairy should be shot. Oh, and the Tooth Fairy is resigning. She's done.

What a way to end the season

Jamie and Blythe. What more can you say than that? Okay...lot's more. They had kilts, they had Dead cake, they had a golf course, and of course they had the coolest Berner around--Bosco (see below). Their wedding was my last for this year and I couldn't have asked for a better one to go out in style. I swear I smiled so much my cheeks hurt the day after. Both Jamie and Blythe are just genuinely nice people that make you feel welcome and like you want to pull up a chair and chat the night away with them. It's easy to see where they get it from, though, as both sets of parents are the exact same way. And don't even get me started on the siblings. The sisters cracked me up and the sole brother obliged me with my obsession of photographing cool people on more than one occasion. :o) I couldn't help myself--their guests were cool. Really cool.

Enough of that...on to the pictures...

To see the rest you can go here: Jamie & Blythe

The end of my wedding season is always filled with mixed emotions. Relief to have my weekends back. No more back aches from lugging my heavy cameras around. Plus a little bit of sadness knowing that it will be several more months before I'm snapping the shutter to catch tears, laughter, and every other kind of emotion. Course usually by the time I get used to all of this it starts again and I'm once again longing for the quietness of Winter. ;o)

Jamie & Blythe, thanks again for ending my year on a high note! I meant it when I said I am kidnapping you when you come back down here, Blythe. You can run, but you can't hide. ((Hugs))