Here is the story of Mr. Happy fan:
Once upon a time, there was a little boy in the land of Oregon who was terrified of the ceiling fan in his bedroom. Every night he cried and begged to not have to go to bed and face the ceiling fan, and sometimes kept his mommy and daddy up for hours and hours because he was very worried that the fan would harm him.
One day, however, along came "Mr Happy Fan." Mr. Happy fan is a white oscillating fan that stands about four feet high. He has a red face that is made out of construction paper, with a golden smile and hair made out of string. He was lovingly crafted by the little boy's father, in an attempt to help him overcome his fear of fans.
Mr. happy face has a big golden smile, which never fades even under the most oppressive of circumstances, such as little boys yelling really loudly into his face. He loves everyone. He watches you all night as you sleep. He will stop anyone that tries to harm you, including the ceiling fan, and he will do it with a huge smile on his face. He never stops smiling. He is, undoubtedly extremely creepy.
But Mr. Creepy Happy fan has saved the little boy's mommy and daddy from going crazy because of lack of sleep. The little boy does not find the fan to be creepy. He helped the little boy to realize that fans are not inherently evil, and that some of them are quite nice. The little boy now lays awake in bed at night saying "The fan is not going to hurt me. He is a nice fan." Mommy and Daddy are very glad that Mr. Happy Fan has helped him overcome his fear.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Six years
We've been married six years, as of Saturday.
I spent a good part of the day on Saturday watching him build rock statues in a river, about an hour and a half away from town. He was so giddy like a little boy, splashing around, so proud of his creations. I enjoyed watching him. Its like having a third son, only I can watch him play with delight at a distance with without having to keep him from danger. Sort of.
It was a good day, and I will share more with you soon.
I spent a good part of the day on Saturday watching him build rock statues in a river, about an hour and a half away from town. He was so giddy like a little boy, splashing around, so proud of his creations. I enjoyed watching him. Its like having a third son, only I can watch him play with delight at a distance with without having to keep him from danger. Sort of.
It was a good day, and I will share more with you soon.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Mother's Day 2013
I am backtracking. Mother's Day 2013. Its funny how it turned into a day of treats for the children! I don't mind.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Adventures of Margot and Matheson
As promised, here is the long awaited story of "The adventures of Margot and Matheson." I hope you enjoy. I really enjoy working in black and white.
Friday, June 7, 2013
'Til death do us part....and then some books.
I moved to Eugene six years ago, with only two bright green suitcases of belongings. Six years later here, and I have an entire house full of stuff. Just to name a few: memorabilia, weird gadgets, clothing, children, and books. A few children, and lots and lots and lots of books. Books about philosophy. books about Russian people. Poetry books. Rare antiquated books. Oversize dictionaries. Children's books. Cook books. Books about the Bible. The bible itself. And, finally, cowboy books.
Books everywhere. Books in the bathroom. Books in our bedrooms. Books shoved in cracks and corners. And 90 percent of them are Isaiah's books.
In the excitement and nervousness of our wedding day, there was something I must have missed during our wedding vows. I remember some hazy talk talk promises. I remember putting our rings on the wrong fingers. I remember it was really hot. What I don't remember at all promising to be the eternal caregiver of all of Isaiah's books. Perhaps I blocked that part out?
Don't be alarmed by my hazy memory. I was told by the person officiating our wedding (father in law) that his "sermon" was meant more as an encouragement to the already married people in the audience, because he is reasonable and doesn't expect the bride and groom to actually be listening to anything as they stand in front of a bunch of people nervously.
Anyway, We have carefully moved Isaiah's books to six different locations. The heavy ones, the ugly ones, even the ones that are never read, have all been boxed up and transported from home to home. My pleas for him to sift through them and give ones that aren't really read to a new home were all shot down. He was not giving any of his books away, and he wants them all to be visibly displayed in our home, no matter what the size of our house is.
But being the perfectly patient person that I am at all times, I have complied with his wishes to keep all of his books, AND find creative ways to visibly store them in our house. So we have carried them through our life together, from house to house and bookshelf to bookshelf.
Recently, my 20 month old son has been handing me philosophy books and looking at me with big brown longing eyes saying "Please read me so I can understand the significant philosophical ideologies of this author." And the other day, I found two small children swimming in a lake of Russian novels while looking through Isaiah's high school year book.
I suddenly had a melt your heart moment when I realized how much these books have become a part of our life together. Being read regularly or not, they are so familiar that they provide a source of comfort and familiarity. They are no longer "Isaiah's books" but the books that make our home what it is. For the past 6 years, they have been resting happily on their shelves, almost as if they are members of our family. They serve as a continual reminder of who I married: A sentimental man who wants to keep everything because it reminds him of something important. And a man who loves knowledge, an understanding of truth, and cowboy life. What more could a woman want in a man?
Books everywhere. Books in the bathroom. Books in our bedrooms. Books shoved in cracks and corners. And 90 percent of them are Isaiah's books.
In the excitement and nervousness of our wedding day, there was something I must have missed during our wedding vows. I remember some hazy talk talk promises. I remember putting our rings on the wrong fingers. I remember it was really hot. What I don't remember at all promising to be the eternal caregiver of all of Isaiah's books. Perhaps I blocked that part out?
Don't be alarmed by my hazy memory. I was told by the person officiating our wedding (father in law) that his "sermon" was meant more as an encouragement to the already married people in the audience, because he is reasonable and doesn't expect the bride and groom to actually be listening to anything as they stand in front of a bunch of people nervously.
Anyway, We have carefully moved Isaiah's books to six different locations. The heavy ones, the ugly ones, even the ones that are never read, have all been boxed up and transported from home to home. My pleas for him to sift through them and give ones that aren't really read to a new home were all shot down. He was not giving any of his books away, and he wants them all to be visibly displayed in our home, no matter what the size of our house is.
But being the perfectly patient person that I am at all times, I have complied with his wishes to keep all of his books, AND find creative ways to visibly store them in our house. So we have carried them through our life together, from house to house and bookshelf to bookshelf.
Recently, my 20 month old son has been handing me philosophy books and looking at me with big brown longing eyes saying "Please read me so I can understand the significant philosophical ideologies of this author." And the other day, I found two small children swimming in a lake of Russian novels while looking through Isaiah's high school year book.
I suddenly had a melt your heart moment when I realized how much these books have become a part of our life together. Being read regularly or not, they are so familiar that they provide a source of comfort and familiarity. They are no longer "Isaiah's books" but the books that make our home what it is. For the past 6 years, they have been resting happily on their shelves, almost as if they are members of our family. They serve as a continual reminder of who I married: A sentimental man who wants to keep everything because it reminds him of something important. And a man who loves knowledge, an understanding of truth, and cowboy life. What more could a woman want in a man?
Monday, June 3, 2013
Margot's 18 month photos, part 1
Margot turned 18 months old, and here are her 18 month photographs. We have known Margot since she was born and is very good friends with my 20 month old son, Matheson. I will post another blog about this session soon and it will be called "The adventures of Margot and Matheson." Stay tuned....
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| Margots favorite activity is watering the plants. |
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| Margot and her Daddy |
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| Margot and her mommy love shoes. |
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| One of my favorite shots |
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| Margot picking a blade of grass for her mommy |
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