It's been a fantastic year, and I am looking forward to a fresh start in 2015! As you've probably noticed, I haven't been blogging here on Typepad much lately. I have decided that I will now blog exclusively on the blog attached to my Squarespace website. Paying two monthly charges for a blog and a website just didn't make financial sense any longer, and I love the Squarespace blogging format so much, especially since photography has become such a big part of my world.
Anyway, I will have to request a redirect through Bloglovin' for those of you who access this blog through their reader service, but I will be redirecting the domain flyoverlifestyle.com to my Squarespace site within the next day or two. I am working on making the transition as seamless as possible for you few loyal friends who have been patient with my long absences. I still plan on doing lots of personal writing as well as featuring the photo shoots I have been a part of.
One of my goals as I approached 40 was to start living my life in such a way that less is more. I've touched on this philosophy in prior posts, but I think at this time of year, it is especially poignant.
I did a really good job of avoiding the stores this weekend. (I did treat myself to a couple Creative Live classes, though!) I think this holiday can bring out the best and the worst in people. Coming from a poor background myself, it also occurs to me that this holiday encourages people who really cannot afford to shop to excess to do so. Credit card companies and big box stores encourage rampant consumerism and debt. While I appreciate what American Express is doing with Small Business Saturday, most large companies are intent on raising their bottom line while paying their employees minimum wage.
And as Americans, we sure do love our "stuff" - drive around the neighborhood, and you'll notice that three car garages are the curbside focal-point of modern homes much of the time. Places to store our stuff. Our status symbols. I'm to the point in my life where I'm seeing how ridiculous it all is. That stuff enslaves us to jobs we don't like and shortens our lives because of the stress it induces.
I'm over it.
If it weren't for the fact that my child needs to be in a stable environment, I'd sell it all and travel the world.
Anyway, I discovered the blog Becoming Minimalist a month or so ago. I really enjoy Joshua's writing, and he comes from a place of conscious consumerism and financial responsibility. I highly recommend his articles. This is my current favorite.
It's something I'm trying to be better about implementing with my own family. Our kids deserve our time - it's the best way we can show them our love.
This season, I encourage you to think about what really matters. I'd wager it's not half as important as a new TV, a fancy handbag, or a heaving toy chest.
I've been pretty busy building my photography business and I haven't had much time for blogging. I have kept up on my photography blog, though - so if you want to see some of my recent work, click here. Lots of pretty babies and families that I had the privilege of shooting this fall.
And big news - I'm now taking wedding clients!
But I do miss lifestyle blogging.
I hope to get back to recipes, the occasional outfit post, and my musings on random things soon. Just don't give up on me. I'm right here in Photoshop. :)
As I mentioned in my prior post, food and I haven't always had the healthiest relationship. I've turned to unhealthy eating habits in times of stress, happy times - basically at any point in my life with emotional extremes. I never really looked at food as medicine. I didn't, until recently, realize just how much the food I was eating was affecting my health.
I've been a migraine sufferer since my teens. I started getting them with my first menstrual cycle, and they run in my family - my mom would hole herself up for hours in a dark room with a washcloth over her eyes, and plead for us to be quiet. I had to do the same thing with my own daughter - taking handfuls of ibuprofen, and alternating coffee and water to try to lessen my suffering. I got bad headaches at least twice a month in a good month, and they were increasing in frequency as I entered my late thirties. If you are a migraine sufferer yourself, you know how horrible these headaches are.
One day, a client of ours at the salon knew that I was a migraneur, and suggested that I try a gluten-free lifestyle. She claimed that her headaches had lessened significantly after dropping wheat from her diet. I was pretty desperate at this point in time - my headaches were increasing to once a week, and I had no quality time on the weekends. I was ready to do anything to be pain free.
So, after Christmas, I gave it up. It was hard at first - I'm a carb fiend. I bought cookbooks, started pinning recipes to Pinterest like a madwoman, and cleaned out my pantry. I tackled the confusing world of gluten-free flours, started getting more creative with making vegetables in new ways, and just generally cleaning up my diet. I discovered the simple deliciousness of eating healthy foods, without preservatives and chemicals.
And guys - it worked.
At first, I thought it was just a placebo effect when my period came and went, migraine-free. I thought that maybe I was imagining it. But months went by. No headaches! I was sleeping better, I was less depressed and stressed out, and my energy levels soared. The scary neurological symptoms I was beginning to have - numbness and tingling, blurred vision, tremors and brain fog, disappeared. I felt like a new person.
I decided to test out eating gluten about 4 months into my diet. I indulged in a slice of regular cake, and had pizza the next afternoon for dinner. The day after, I was met with a crushing headache and my gut was tied in knots. It was horrible.
Since then, I've tested out my tolerance on a couple more occasions - most recently this weekend. After enjoying a delectable cinnamon roll made with wheat flour on Saturday morning, I spent Sunday and Monday in excruciating abdominal pain, and with the worst migraine of my life. I.am.done.
I have a strong suspicion that I may be one of the thousands of people in the U.S. who have celiac disease. Autoimmune and endocrinological disorders run in my family, so it wouldn't surprise me. I'd have to go back to eating gluten for long enough to get the testing done to confirm my intolerance. I honestly don't think I can endure that, especially since what I'm doing with my diet is the only known treatment anyway.
Our food supplies have changed drastically in the last 100 years or so - causing wheat allergies and gluten intolerance to spike significantly. The wheat that we are eating now isn't the same wheat that our ancestors ate. It's almost impossible to find wheat or other grains that haven't been genetically tampered with.
So, for me - I'm gluten-free for life. Sure, sometimes I miss carrot cake, and doughnuts, and other goodies that I can no longer have. But it's worth it. Gluten-free isn't right for everyone, but for those of us who may be on the autoimmune disease spectrum, it can be beneficial. Talk to your doctor or nutritionist if you suspect yourself or a family member of having celiac disease, and listen to your body. Be your own advocate for your health, and your body will reward you with a long and healthy life.
It's been a long time since I've done an outfit post. I've kind of shifted gears a bit in life lately, and as my 40th birthday approaches, I've been really contemplative. There are changes I'm making in my life - trying to create healthier habits for myself and my family, and thinking about our future.
I love fashion. I may not always be on-trend, and I may have my own take on style, but I do love getting dressed in the morning. I enjoy reading fashion blogs, and seeing style posts from other bloggers inspires me to be more creative. That is a good thing. But, with that being said, my own style blogging was making me something else: materialistic and covetous.
I've always had the tendency to commit the sin of gluttony over all others. It's something that has caused me to struggle with my weight; it's something that has caused me to collect too many shoes, hair products, cosmetics. Maybe because I didn't have much as a child, the long-won opportunity of disposable income drew me to shop somewhat obsessively at times. But, as I started to survey the heaving racks of clothes in my closet, I began to feel really terrible. Not because I spent a lot of money on any one item, but because it was just embarrassing and kind of gross. I started realizing that I was a glutton. Again.
That was about six months ago, and I forced myself to go on a shopping ban for Lent. After Easter passed, I continued for a few more months. It felt good. I was able to beef up my savings, give to charity, and start thinking about trips and experiences I wanted to have with my family - the things that will really last. A few weeks ago, I went on my first shopping trip in months, gave myself a firm allowance, and chose a few new updates to my wardrobe. It satisfied the urge, without making me feel like I had slipped off the wagon.
I will always love clothes. I'm a thrifty shopper for the most part, but quantity was the problem. This isn't a judgement on fashion blogging or on shopping - both are fun, and I will still enjoy them...in moderation. I'll still do style posts from time to time, but they will be thoughtful, not just an excuse to show off my latest purchases.
It really was raining in these photos. And goodness do we need it. It has been dry as a desert in Missouri. I'm trying to be thankful for the simple things.
We are making our way through South Dakota, and will be enjoying our last day of discovering this beautiful land tomorrow. There aren't many words to describe the experiences we've had here. Pictures will hopefully tell the story instead.
So, I'm really putting myself out here with this one...
Two years ago, when I picked up my husband's little Canon Rebel XS and started taking pictures of cats and flowers, I was completely clueless about photography. Most of my pictures were just okay at best - blurry around the edges, too dark, horizons all over the place. I never, ever thought anyone would want me to take their picture. Much less offer to pay me.
This photography thing has taught me a whole lot about the world. About people, about their stories, about what is most important in life. I never expected to fall in love with portraiture. I'm a classic introvert - and people, while I love them, scare me just a little. Did I ever think I would be anything but an amateur photographer? No, and I even wrote a blog post about that just a couple months ago. I was never going to be a professional photographer. No way. Not for me.
But, here's the thing:
Sometimes your plan, and God's plan, are two different things.
People started emailing me and texting me, asking me if I would take their pictures. I made excuses, saying I'm not good enough, that I just do photography for fun. I took a few friends' pictures for free, just because I love them. Everybody else, I referred on, and kept taking pictures of cats and flowers.
But, the truth is - I had caught a bug for taking pictures of people, for seeing their soul through the lens of my camera. And then one of my pictures was picked up by a local magazine (you'll see that next month) and I figured out that Serendipity was calling my name. And why not? Serendipity led me to my day job, which I'm still passionately in love with, and have no plans of quitting.(Rest easy, hair clientele!)
I have several shoots in the next few weeks which will really test my chops. I still have a lot to learn. I expect I will be learning the rest of my life.
I'm not going to try to change the world or get famous for my photography. I'm not doing weddings, and I'm not doing this every day. But I am now "semi" pro. And as terrifying as that is to say, all signs say go.
If you'd like to check out my new photography site, I'd be flattered. You can find it here.
Recently, Cameron - the husband of mesothelioma survivor Heather Von St. James, reached out to myself and a few other bloggers to create a post to raise mesothelioma awareness. Their family's story is very inspiring, and if you would like to read more about Heather, Cameron, and their sweet daughter Lily, you can do so here.
Photo: Cameron, Heather, and Lily Von St. James
Cameron asked me to relay statistics and facts about this rare, but entirely preventable cancer, which is diagnosed in about 3,000 people annually.
Exposure to asbestos is the leading cause of mesothelioma. (Important information for those of us who love to live in and explore old houses.) Asbestos was used as an insulator, ceiling texture product, and siding material up until the 1960s. Asbestos must be remediated professionally. If you suspect your home contains asbestos, call a professional abatement company such as Sunbelt Environmental.
Smoking can exacerbate the symptoms and increase the risk factor for mesothelioma, but is not a direct cause. That said, smoking greatly increases the chances of developing any form of cancer.
Veterans are considered a particularly high-risk group for mesothelioma, due to the fact that they were often exposed to asbestos during their service. Navy vets are particularly at risk, because asbestos was used in the shipbuilding process.
Some symptoms of mesothelioma are chest pain, bowel obstructions, nausea, and anemia. Imaging scans and biopsies are the most common methods for diagnosis.
Educating yourself and others on asbestos exposure, early detection if symptoms occur, and prompt medical treatment are the best ways to increase your survival factor for mesothelioma. For more information, go to www.mesothelioma.com
This Father's Day, I wanted to share something very personal with you, which makes me so incredibly thankful that this day is no longer a date on the calendar I dread.
In March of 2008, suddenly my daughter no longer had a father. After battling severe depression for many years, her dad chose to take his own life shortly before her 4th birthday. It's something that rocked her to the core, and left me trying to pick up the pieces of both of our lives. I struggled with forgiveness, guilt, and anger as she struggled with pain and abandonment. I look back on that time in my life, and I'm not sure how I survived it - but my child gave me a reason, and God gave me the strength.
On Father's Day, whenever I passed by a stand of cards proclaiming "World's Best Dad" I would cringe inside. I'd mourn the fact that my daughter would have to sit alone amongst the lucky kids who still had their fathers every time this holiday came around. My dad tried to be there for her. Her uncles tried. It just wasn't the same. I had a little girl with an irrevocably broken heart, and no amount of grief counseling or caring people could fill that void.
And then, almost two years later, I met Ryan.
I was so nervous when I discovered that he didn't have kids of his own. Would he understand that I didn't have free time at the drop of a hat? Would he be the stereotypical boyfriend - fun to have around, but suddenly disappearing when things got rough? Most importantly, could I ever trust this man with my daughter's heart?
It's been over five years since our first date.
She has tested his love. She has tried to push him away. But he's not easily pushed.
My daughter has a father. She has a man who wasn't afraid to face the difficulties of a broken heart or a broken child. She has a dad who won't abandon her, a man who was waiting at the end of an aisle to promise to me, as well as to her, his lifelong love.
He's the man who has taught her how to ride a bike. He helps her stumble through multiplication tables and spelling lists. He has taken her to the movies and to the dentist, and now reaps the benefit of hearing a little girl with a tattered, but freshly mended heart say, "This is my dad."
Love doesn't come from shared blood. Love comes from the heart. Happy Father's Day.
One of the things about blogging I love is the unique platform it gives to women. Lifestyle bloggers are predominantly female. We write about things that interest us, share our personal style, and the lives of our families with our readers.
But there's also something that really bothers me about lifestyle blogging.
I read two separate posts lately about the amount of fakery that goes into blogging. One by fellow midwesterner Gabrielle, which notes the level of body-altering photoshopping that some people do to their personal style posts. (I thought the whole point was to be yourself?)
And another post about the perfectionism that seems inherent to lifestyle bloggers, making those of us in the real world feel less than if our houses aren't always clean and our kids don't look like Quinoa the well-dressed toddler. (I can't wait to read that book!) Sometimes we lifestyle bloggers are laughably formulaic.
That being said, I'm not here to criticize other bloggers, and I realize that all of those pretty pictures are a great way to escape reality. I am a big fan of Martha Stewart and all of her acolytes. I think the problem comes when you start comparing yourself to others - something we as women do almost subconsciously.
As I round the corner onto the final stretch toward 40, I am learning to own who I am. I am learning to accept the fact that my marionette and frown lines are just going to be there, because I refuse to succumb to the allure of plastic surgery. That my waistline isn't going to be 24 inches, because I refuse to deny myself the pleasure of the foods I enjoy. That I'm moody, and sometimes depressed. That I can be judgmental and self-involved - things I'm working on, while simultaneously forgiving myself for being human.
Some of that makes it into this blog. Some of it is edited. But nothing in my life is perfect. How boring would that be?
Because, in that picture above - without any makeup or retouching, I'm starting to acccept the person that I am. I am learning that what other people think doesn't matter. And I am learning how to be a role model of healthy middle-age, so that my own daughter will look at the flipping calendar with anticipation instead of dread. Above all, I want to be a happy old person.
What's on the inside matters more than ever when the flower of youth begins to fade.
And no retouching tool, makeup, or well-draped dress can cover up who a person truly is.
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